birds fly out. But perhaps it would not be convenient to have your
lordship's cook troubled with this?"

Biterres made an impatient gesture. "Child's play--but it will serve. The
cook shall come for your orders. Have it ready before the drinking begins
or the men will not know whether you have larks or peacocks in the pie."

Ranulph bowed very low and left the hall.

"Peirol," he said when he re-entered the cell-like room, "we are prisoners
to a caitiff knight who has taken this castle and undoubtedly holds your
mistress and her friends also captive. I think he intends to carry off the
ladies, and I am not sure what will happen to the rest of us. If we can
get word to Count Thibaut's castle we may spoil the fellow's game. No one
must suspect, of course, that we have carriers with us. He takes us for
strolling mountebanks and desires us to amuse the company at supper. Now,
I have a plan."

He was already writing the letters to be sent by the winged couriers,
putting all his hard-won skill with words into the task of getting all the
information possible into a little space. If the rescuing party did not
come before Biterres took his prisoners away--and it was hardly to be
hoped that they could--at least they should have a fair start in pursuit
of him and evidence enough to punish him, if they received even one of
these missives.

Peirol heard the scheme with wide-eyed gravity. At the end he nodded.

"That fellow asked what we had here," he said pointing to the panier, "and
I told him when the pie was cut he would see."