Yes sire. I knew what he meant

Ivanhoe:

God save you, Knight. Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert:
And God save you minstrel. We ride to Ashby, which crossroad do we take? Ivanhoe:
The right will take you to Ashby, sire Sir Hugh De Bracy:
Shall we get there By nightfall? Ivanhoe:
By nightfall tomorrow. Sir Hugh De Bracy:
Tomorrow? Can you show us the way to a roof for the night? Ivanhoe:
I know of a roof nearby, but perhaps you would scorn it. Sir Hugh De Bracy:
Why, is it humble? Ivanhoe:
No sire. It is Saxon. Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert:
I'd sooner bivouac on the roadside. Ivanhoe:
'Tis a warm, fine night. Sir Hugh De Bracy:
To be butchered in ones sleep. Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert:
We could sooner walk into a Saxon trap. Sir Hugh De Bracy:
What is this house you speak of minstral? Ivanhoe:
Rotherwood, the keep of Cedric The Saxon. Sir Hugh De Bracy:
I believe I know this Cedric The Saxon. Has he a ward, a woman of great beauty? Ivanhoe:
The Saxon princess Lady Rowena is his ward. Sir Hugh De Bracy:
Aye, Rowena. 'Tis the same Cedric. He loves us not at all, but we would sleep safe beneath his roof. Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert:
You know the way? Ivanhoe:
Well enough to lead you there. Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert:
Then lead us there, but mark you this. One false step and you'll sing a very different song my friend. Ivanhoe:
I have a song to fit every occasion, sire. Sir Hugh De Bracy:
He means he'll lop your head off, minstral. Ivanhoe:
Yes sire. I knew what he meant