"Now, that is not ill sung," said Wamba, who had thrown in a few of his
own flourishes to help out the chorus. "But who, in the saint's name,
ever expected to have heard such a jolly chant come from a hermit's cell
at midnight?"

"Marry, that should I," said Gurth, "for the jolly Clerk of Copmanhurst
is a known man and kills half the deer that are stolen in this walk. Men
say that the deer-keeper has complained of him and that he will be
stripped of his [v]cowl and [v]cope altogether if he keep not better
order."

While they were thus speaking, Locksley's loud and repeated knocks had
at length disturbed the [v]anchorite and his guest, who was a knight of
singularly powerful build and open, handsome face, and in black armor.

"By my beads," said the hermit, "here come other guests. I would not for
my cowl that they found us in this goodly exercise. All men have
enemies, sir knight; and there be those malignant enough to construe the
hospitable refreshment I have been offering to you, a weary traveler,
into drinking and gluttony, vices alike alien to my profession and my
disposition."

"Base [v]calumniators!" replied the knight. "I would I had the
chastising of them. Nevertheless, holy clerk, it is true that all have
their enemies; and there be those in this very land whom I would rather
speak to through the bars of my helmet than bare-faced."

"Get thine iron pot on thy head, then, sir knight," said the hermit,
"while I remove these pewter flagons."

He struck up a thundering [v]_De profundis clamavi_, under cover of
which he removed the apparatus of their banquet, while the knight,
laughing heartily and arming himself all the while, assisted his host
with his voice from time to time as his mirth permitted.

"What devil's [v]matins are you after at this hour?" demanded a voice
from outside.

"Heaven forgive you, sir traveler!" said the hermit, whose own noise
prevented him from recognizing accents which were tolerably familiar to
him. "Wend on your way, in the name of God and Saint Dunstan, and
disturb not the devotions of me and my holy brother."

"Mad priest," answered the voice from without; "open to Locksley!"

"All's safe--all's right," said the hermit to his companion.

"But who is he?" asked the Black Knight. "It imports me much to know."

"Who is he?" answered the hermit. "I tell thee he is a friend."

"But what friend?" persisted the knight; "for he may be a friend to thee
and none of mine."

"W