“’Tis but a contrivance to gain time,” said Locksley; “they dare not do a deed for which I could exact a fearful penalty.”

“I would,” said the Black Knight, “there were some one among us who could obtain admission into the castle, and discover how the case stands with the besieged. Me-thinks, as they require a confessor to be sent, this holy hermit might at once exercise his pious vocation, and procure us the information we desire.”

“A plague on thee, and thy advice!” said the pious hermit; “I tell thee, Sir Slothful Knight, that when I doff my friar’s frock, my priesthood, my sanctity, my very Latin are put off along with it; and when in my green jerkin, I can better kill twenty deer than confess one Christian.”

“I fear,” said the Black Knight, “I fear greatly, there is no one here that is qualified to take upon him, for the nonce, this same character of father confessor?”

All looked on each other, and were silent.

“I see,” said Wamba, after a short pause, “that the fool must be still the fool, and put his neck in the venture which wise men shrink from. You must know, my dear cousins and countrymen, that I wore russet before I wore motley, and was bred to be a friar, until a brain-fever came upon me and left me just wit enough to be a fool. I trust, with the assistance of the good hermit’s frock, together with the priesthood, sanctity, and learning which are stitched into the cowl of it, I shall be found qualified to administer both worldly and ghostly comfort to our worthy master Cedric, and his companions in adversity.”

“Hath he sense enough, think’st thou?” said the Black Knight, addressing Gurth.

“I know not,” said Gurth; “but if he hath not, it will be the first time he hath wanted wit to turn his folly to account.”

“On with the frock, then, good fellow,” quoth the Knight, “and let thy master send us an account of their situation within the castle. Their numbers must be few, and it is five to one they may be accessible by a sudden and bold attack. Time wears—away with thee.”

“And in the meantime,” said Locksley, “we will beset the place so closely, that not so much as a fly shall carry news from thence. So that, my good friend,” he continued, addressing Wamba, “thou mayest assure these tyrants, that whatever violence they exercise on the persons of their prisoners, shall be most severely repaid upon their own.”

“Pax vobiscum,” said Wamba, who was now muffled in his religious disguise.

And so saying, he imitated the solemn and stately deportment of a friar, and departed to execute his mission.