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, thinkst 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 mayst
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.