He sprang to his feet and stood an instant anxiously listening. Then he bounded over to a door in the corner of the kitchen, flung it open, and disappeared up a spiral stone staircase.
A moment later they heard the distant clanking of mail and a harsh roaring voice raised in anger. The sounds came nearer and nearer and they heard mighty feet descending the stone stairs. Gorbo snatched up his bow and pushed the children towards the door. Sir Percival was struggling to get his helmet on, and making heavy weather of it.
“Good, my lord,” they heard the voice of Baldry saying, “if you will but listen to reason----”
“Reason me no reason,” interrupted the roaring voice. “If I find unbidden guests in my kitchen I’ll first flay them and afterwards slay them----”
The door was flung open and Baldry appeared alone, sweetly smiling and smiting together two pot-lids to imitate the tread of mailed feet.
“Be seated, I pray you,” he said with a ringing laugh. “Now was not this a pretty jest?”
“Ay, a right joyous jape,” said Sir Percival, pulling his helmet off with violence and displaying a pale and angry face. “Thou art altogether a choice merry varlet. Though how you manage to go on day by day without getting slain passes my understanding.”