answered poor Wamba, "and for hanging up by the feet,
my brain has been topsy-turvy ever since the [v]biggin was bound first
around my head; so turning me upside down may peradventure restore it
again."

"Hah!" cried Front-de-Boeuf, "what have we here?"

And with the back of his hand he struck Cedric's cap from the head of
the jester, and throwing open his collar, discovered the fatal badge of
servitude, the silver collar round his neck.

"Giles--Clement--dogs and varlets!" called the furious Norman, "what
villain have you brought me here?"

"I think I can tell you," said De Bracy, who just entered the apartment.
"This is Cedric's clown."

"Go," ordered Front-de-Boeuf; "fetch me the right Cedric hither, and I
pardon your error for once--the rather that you but mistook a fool for
a Saxon [v]franklin."

"Ay, but," said Wamba, "your chivalrous excellency will find there are
more fools than franklins among us."

"What means this knave?" said Front-de-Boeuf, looking toward his
followers, who, lingering and loath, faltered forth their belief that if
this were not Cedric who was there in presence, they knew not what was
become of him.

"Heavens!" exclaimed De Bracy. "He must have escaped in the monk's
garments!"

"Fiends!" echoed Front-de-Boeuf. "It was then the boar of Rotherwood
whom I ushered to the postern and dismissed with my own hands! And
thou," he said to Wamba, "whose folly could over-reach the wisdom of
idiots yet more gross than thyself. I will give thee holy orders, I will
shave thy crown for thee! Here, let them tear the scalp from his head
and pitch him headlong from the battlements. Thy trade is to jest: canst
thou jest now?"

"You deal with me better than your word, noble knight," whimpered forth
poor Wamba, whose habits of [v]buffoonery were not to be overcome even
by the immediate prospect of death; "if you give me the red cap you
propose, out of a simple monk you will make a [v]cardinal."

"The poor wretch," said De Bracy, "is resolved to die in his vocation."
The next moment would have been Wamba's last but for an unexpected
interruption. A hoarse shout, raised by many voices, bore to the inmates
of the hall the tidings that the besiegers were advancing to the attack.
There was a moment's silence in the hall, which was broken by De Bracy.
"To the battlements," he said; "let us see what these knaves do
without."

So saying, he opened a latticed window which led to a sort of projecting
balco