“Our master was too ready to fight,” said the Jester; “and Athelstane was not ready enough, and no other person was ready at all. And they are prisoners to green cassocks, and black visors. And they lie all tumbled about on the green, like the crab-apples that you shake down to your swine. And I would laugh at it,” said the honest Jester, “if I could for weeping.” And he shed tears of unfeigned sorrow.

Gurth’s countenance kindled⁠—“Wamba,” he said, “thou hast a weapon, and thy heart was ever stronger than thy brain⁠—we are only two⁠—but a sudden attack from men of resolution will do much⁠—follow me!”

“Whither?⁠—and for what purpose?” said the Jester.

“To rescue Cedric.”

“But you have renounced his service but now,” said Wamba.

“That,” said Gurth, “was but while he was fortunate⁠—follow me!”