The baron, however, waved them back.
"It is no question," he said, "of honourable fight.

This is a follower of the murderer of my good cousin of Montferat, who died under the hands of assassins set upon him by Richard of England." "It is false!" Cuthbert shouted.

"I denounce it as a foul lie, and will maintain it with my life." "Your life is already forfeited," the baron said, "both by your past connexion with Richard of England and as the insulter of the arms of Austria.

You die, and to-morrow at noon your head shall be struck off in the great square before my castle." Without another word Cuthbert was hurried off to his cell, and there remained, thinking moodily over the events of the day, until nightfall.
He had no doubt that his sentence would be carried out, and his anxiety was rather for his followers than for himself.

He feared that they would make some effort on his behalf, and would sacrifice their own lives in doing so, without the possibility of assisting him.
The next morning he was led out to the square before the castle.