The king’s levy, however, did not seem to be hereabouts, for the booths nearest the head-quarters were evidently occupied by great barons, as Felix easily knew from their banners.  There was here some little appearance of formality; the soldiery were not so noisy, and there were several officers moving among them.  He afterwards discovered that the greater barons claimed the right to camp nearest the king, and that the king’s levy was just behind their booths.  But unable to discover the place, and afraid of losing his liberty if he delayed longer, Felix, after hesitating some time, determined to apply direct to the guard at the gate of the circular entrenchment.

As he crossed the open ground towards it, he noticed that the king’s quarters were the closest to the enemy.  Across the little stream were some corn-fields, and beyond these the walls of the city, scarcely half a mile distant.  There was no outpost, the stream was but a brook, and could be crossed with ease.  He marvelled at the lack of precaution; but he had yet to learn that the enemy, and all the armies of the age, were equally ignorant and equally careless.

With as humble a demeanour as he could assume, Felix doffed his cap and began to speak to the guard at the gateway of the entrenchment.  The nearest man-at-arms immediately raised his spear and struck him with the butt.  The unexpected blow fell on his left shoulder, and with such force as to render it powerless.  Before he could utter a remonstrance, a second had seized his boar-spear, snapped the handle across his knee, and hurled the fragments from him.  Others then took him by the shoulders and thrust him back across the open space to the camp, where they kicked him and left him, bruised, and almost stupefied with indignation.  His offence was approaching the king’s ground with arms in his hands.

Later in the afternoon he found himself sitting on the bank of the stream far below the camp.  He had wandered thither without knowing where he was going or what he was doing.  His spirit for the time had been crushed, not so much by the physical brutality as by the repulse to his aspirations.  Full of high hopes, and conscious of great ideas, he had been beaten like a felon hound.

From this spot beside the brook the distant camp appeared very beautiful.  The fluttering banners, the green roofs of the booths (of ferns and reeds and boughs), the movement and life, for bodies of troops were now marching to and fro, and knights in gay attire riding on horseback, made a pleasant scene on the sloping ground with the forest at the back.  Over the stream the sunshine lit up the walls of the threatened city, where, too, many flags were waving.  Felix came somewhat to himself as he gazed, and presently acknowledged that he had only had himself to blame.  He had evidently transgressed a rule, and his ignorance of the rule was no excuse, since those who had any right to be in the camp at all were supposed to understand it.