Here's a writing on the matter for the captain of this company," and, taking a letter from the folds of the white flag in which it had been fastened, he handed it to Bolle, who, as he could not read, passed it on to Jacob Smith.

Just then a lad brought the ale for which Jeffrey had asked, and with it a platter of cold meat and bread, on which he fell like a famished hound, drinking in great gulps and devouring the food almost without chewing it.
"By the saints, you are starved, Jeffrey," said a yeoman who stood by.
"Come with me and shift those wet clothes of yours, or you will take harm," and he led him off, still eating, to a tent that stood near by.
Meanwhile, Jacob, having studied the letter with bent and anxious brows, read it aloud.

It ran thus-- "To the Captain of the King's men, from Clement, Abbot of Blossholme.
"By what warrant I know not you besiege us here, threatening this Abbey and its Religious with fire and sword.

I am told that Cicely Foterell is your leader.

Say, then, to that escaped witch that I hold the man she calls her husband, and who is the father of her base-born child, a prisoner.