Assuming that the three separate groups of robbers that have plagued our merry band at each furlong had a retreating warning scout, our gallivant is widely known, most likely all the way to the keep itself. None of our nightly discomforts were necessary, the hard ground and pounding rain have only soured our resolve, possibly even the paladin's sanity.
But no matter now, the deed is done and here we are, wet, tired, and wounded, with no silver to show for it. And the hedge knight's discovery of the spidery monogram bodes ill (for some) indeed. This slippery magician has the right idea, I too will lean back and watch fate unfold before us.