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The earl had his own doubts as to this new piece of evidence, for he was aware of Drogo's feelings towards Hubert, and therefore he welcomed the indignant denial of the younger boy. Still, he could not permit mortal combat at their age. They were not entitled to claim it while below the rank of knighthood. "You are too young for the appeal to battle."
The chronicler has forgotten who befriended or seconded Drogo, and hopes he found it hard to find any one to do so. The earl rose up in the pavilion, and bade the herald sound the charge. The two combatants galloped against each other at full speed, and met with a dull heavy shock. Drogo's lance had, whether providentially or otherwise, just grazed the helmet of his opponent and glanced off.
The men he had with him on the spot were certain lewd fellows of the baser sort, distinguished even in Walderne Castle for their wickedness; yet even they had their superstitions, and imagined it would bring bad luck to arrest the ecclesiastic, travelling in the garb of his order. But Drogo's will was law, and they obeyed.
She had strong predispositions against him: and quite accepted Hubert's version of the quarrel at Kenilworth which, under Drogo's manipulation, assumed a much more innocent aspect than the one in which it was presented to our readers.
The point of the lance seldom penetrated the armour of proof in which combatants were encased. The pages separated in great excitement. Most of them held with Hubert for Drogo's arrogant manners had not gained him many friends.
So it is for those who win." He whistled shrill, And quick was answered from the hill; That whistle garrisoned the glen, With twice a hundred armed men. In short, the three travellers were surrounded on all sides. Their errand had been betrayed by one of Drogo's outlying scouts. "What is thy purpose, Drogo?" said Martin. "Do ye yield yourselves prisoners?" "On what compulsion?"
A thin smoke still arose from the spot where the cottage had stood. They all paused; then, without a word, hurried on ward by a common impulse. They only found the smoking embers of the dwelling they had come to seek. "This is Drogo's doing," said Ralph of Herstmonceux. "Could he have heard of our intentions?" said the mayor.
But in the greenwood it was different, and young Martin had been left again and again, as a part of a sound education, to "hold his own" against his equals in age and size, by aid of the noble art of fisticuffs; what wonder then that Drogo's eyes were speedily several shades darker than nature had designed them to be, of which there was no obvious need, and that victory would probably have decked the brows of the younger combatant had not the elders interfered.
Drogo's lance grazed his opponent's casque: the unknown knight drove his missile through corselet and breast, and Drogo went down crashing from his steed. The combat went sweeping on past them, the desperate foes fighting as they rode.
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