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Updated: May 5, 2025
The dagger tinkled down upon the deck. Seamen and archers ran forward, to find Nigel half senseless upon his face. They drew him off, and a few deft blows struck off the helmet of his enemy. A head, sharp-featured, freckled and foxy-red, disclosed itself beneath it. Nigel raised himself on his elbow for an instant. "You are the Red Ferret?" said he.
They've been lawyers and such like over yonder for a hundred years but she's a Lashmar for all that." "Lord! What's a hundred years?" said Whybarne, who had seen seventy-eight of them. "An' they write too, from yonder my uncle's woman writes that you can still tell 'em by headmark. Their hair's foxy-red still an' they throw out when they walk.
In eight days you must manage to tame and bring to me three horses that have never felt a master. The first is pure white, the second a foxy-red with a black head, the third coal black with a white head and feet. And besides that, you must also bring as a present to the empress, my wife, as much gold as the three horses can carry.
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