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Updated: May 29, 2025
"Your life for this!" said the bully, with a face which was distorted with rage. "If you can take it," returned Alleyne. "Good lad!" whispered Ford. "Stick to it close as wax." "I shall see justice," cried Norbury, Sir Oliver's silent attendant. "You brought it upon yourself, John Tranter," said the tall squire, who had been addressed as Roger Harcomb. "You must ever plague the new-comers.
"Nay, sir," said Harcomb, "that is not the custom." "Throw down your hilt, Edricson," cried Norbury. "Never!" said Alleyne. "Do you crave my pardon, sir?" "You are mad to ask it." "Then on guard again!" cried the young squire, and sprang in with a fire and a fury which more than made up for the shortness of his weapon.
"His master also, as I understand, is a very mild and courteous gentleman," remarked Harcomb; "yet I do not think that they are either of them men with whom it is very safe to trifle." Even the squires' table at the Abbey of St. Andrew's at Bordeaux was on a very sumptuous scale while the prince held his court there.
So close were they to each other that Alleyne had no time to spring back from the next cut, which beat down his sword and grazed his forehead, sending the blood streaming into his eyes and down his cheeks. He sprang out beyond sword sweep, and the pair stood breathing heavily, while the crowd of young squires buzzed their applause. "Bravely struck on both sides!" cried Roger Harcomb.
"What! do you still pursue the quarrel?" asked Tranter. "And why not, sir? I am slow to take up such things, but once afoot I shall follow it while I have life or breath." "Ma foi! you have not too much of either, for you are as white as marble," said Harcomb bluntly. "Take my rede, sir, and let it drop, for you have come very well out from it."
"You will have little credit from this gentleman, I perceive. Tongues are sharp in Hampshire, sir." "And swords?" "Hum! we may prove that. In two days' time is the vepres du tournoi, when we may see if your lance is as quick as your wit." "All very well, Roger Harcomb," cried a burly, bull-necked young man, whose square shoulders and massive limbs told of exceptional personal strength.
"You have done what you could to save him, Harcomb," said he. "We had best settle at once." "So say I," cried Alleyne. "The council will not break up until the banquet," remarked a gray-haired squire. "You have a clear two hours." "And the place?" "The tilting-yard is empty at this hour."
"It was but such a jest as we play upon each other, and, if you must have it so, I am sorry for it." "Then I am sorry too," quoth Alleyne warmly, "and here is my hand upon it." "And the none-meat horn has blown three times," quoth Harcomb, as they all streamed in chattering groups from the ground. "I know not what the prince's maitre-de-cuisine will say or think.
"The river has been my enemy," said Tranter, "but it hath been a good friend to you, for it has saved your life this day." "That is as it may be," returned Alleyne. "But all is now well over," quoth Harcomb, "and no scath come of it, which is more than I had at one time hoped for.
But it were shame if this went further. The lad hath shown a proper spirit." "But a blow! a blow!" cried several of the older squires. "There must be a finish to this." "Nay; Tranter first laid hand upon his head," said Harcomb. "How say you, Tranter? The matter may rest where it stands?"
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