“Troth,” said Tempest, still wishful to maintain the king’s incognito, “the Turks having now taken Byzantium, the great bulwark of Christendom, I did fear me that the first of the tribe from that great army of locusts had descended upon us.”

“Fear not,” said the unfortunate monarch, with a smile; “this poor innocent will do no ill.  His mistress brought him for me a present from her father’s court; and, to say the truth, he has been a great solace in my trouble.  He hath not forsaken me when they who fattened on my bounty—­who dipped their hands with me in the dish—­have been the first to betray me.  The knave is shrewd and playful, but of an incredible strength, being, as ye may observe, double-jointed.  Madoc, let them behold some token of thy power.”

The cunning rogue obeyed in a twinkling.  He seized the host’s chair with one hand, lifting its occupant without difficulty from the ground.  With the other he laid hold on him by the throat, and would certainly have strangled him but for the king.

The assault was so sudden and unexpected that the domestics stood still a moment, as though rendered powerless by surprise.

The next instant they all fled pell-mell out of the hall, every one struggling to be foremost, apprehending that the great personification of all evil was there, bodily, behind them, and in the very act of flying off with their master.

In vain Joan shouted after the cowardly villains; her threats but increased their speed.

“Fly, King Henry,” cried the dwarf, in a voice that sounded like the roar of some infuriated beast; “the rascal curs are barking; the stag is in the net.  This traitor”—­Here he became at a loss for words; but his gesticulations were more vehement.  “Fly!” at length he shouted, in a louder voice than before; “I’ve seen sword and armour glittering in the forest.”

But the king was irresolute, as much amazed as any of the rest.  He saw the imminent danger of his host, whose face was blackening above the grip of this fierce antagonist, and he cried out—­

“Leave go, Madoc; let the curs bark, we fear them not in this good house.  Let go, I command thee.”

With a look of pity and of scorn the savage loosened his hold, saying—­

“Thou be’st not king now; but Henry with the beads and breviary; and here come thy tormentors.”

A loud whistle rang through the hall, and in burst a band of armed men, led on by Sir Thomas Talbot of Bashall, and his oldest son of the same name, together with Sir James Harrington.

Tempest, recovered from his gripe, made a furious dart at the king; but ere he had accomplished his purpose, Edmund Talbot rushed between, at the peril of his life, opening a way for the terrified monarch through the band that had nearly surrounded him.

The king fled through the passage made by his deliverer; and the dwarf, keeping his enemies at bay, heroically and effectually covered his retreat.