The baron was one morning, as usual, cutting his way valorously
through a rampart of cold provision, when his ears were
suddenly assailed by a tremendous alarum, and sallying forth,
and looking from his castle wall, he perceived a large party
of armed men on the other side of the moat, who were calling on
the warder in the king's name to lower the drawbridge and raise
the portcullis, which had both been secured by Matilda's order.
The baron walked along the battlement till he came opposite
to these unexpected visitors, who, as soon as they saw him,
called out, "Lower the drawbridge, in the king's name."
"For what, in the devil's name?" said the baron.
"The sheriff of Nottingham," said one, "lies in bed grievously bruised,
and many of his men are wounded, and several of them slain;
and Sir Ralph Montfaucon, knight, is sore wounded in the arm;
and we are charged to apprehend William Gamwell the younger,
of Gamwell Hall, and father Michael of Rubygill Abbey,
and Matilda Fitzwater of Arlingford Castle, as agents and
accomplices in the said breach of the king's peace."
"Breach of the king's fiddlestick!" answered the baron.
"What do you mean by coming here with your cock and bull, stories of my
daughter grievously bruising the sheriff of Nottingham? You are a set
of vagabond rascals in disguise; and I hear, by the bye, there is
a gang of thieves that has just set up business in Sherwood Forest:
a pretty presence, indeed, to get into my castle with force and arms,
and make a famine in my buttery, and a drought in my cellar,
and a void in my strong box, and a vacuum in my silver scullery.
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