“You are called wise men, sirs,” said the Jester, “and I a crazed fool; but, uncle Cedric, and cousin Athelstane, the fool shall decide this controversy for ye, and save ye the trouble of straining courtesies any farther. I am like John-a-Duck’s mare, that will let no man mount her but John-a-Duck. I came to save my master, and if he will not consent⁠—basta⁠—I can but go away home again. Kind service cannot be chucked from hand to hand like a shuttlecock or stool-ball. I’ll hang for no man but my own born master.”

“Go, then, noble Cedric,” said Athelstane, “neglect not this opportunity. Your presence without may encourage friends to our rescue⁠—your remaining here would ruin us all.”

“And is there any prospect, then, of rescue from without?” said Cedric, looking to the Jester.