“Go to, knave, what pratest thou of conversions?⁠—what, is there no respect?⁠—all masters and no men?⁠—I tell thee, fellow, I was somewhat totty when I received the good knight’s blow, or I had kept my ground under it. But an thou gibest more of it, thou shalt learn I can give as well as take.”

“Peace all!” said the Captain. “And thou, Jew, think of thy ransom; thou needest not to be told that thy race are held to be accursed in all Christian communities, and trust me that we cannot endure thy presence among us. Think, therefore, of an offer, while I examine a prisoner of another cast.”

“Were many of Front-de-Boeuf’s men taken?” demanded the Black Knight.

“None of note enough to be put to ransom,” answered the Captain; “a set of hilding fellows there were, whom we dismissed to find them a new master⁠—enough had been done for revenge and profit; the bunch of them were not worth a cardecu. The prisoner I speak of is better booty⁠—a jolly monk riding to visit his leman, an I may judge by his horse-gear and wearing apparel.⁠—Here cometh the worthy prelate, as pert as a pyet.” And, between two yeomen, was brought before the silvan throne of the outlaw Chief, our old friend, Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx.