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Updated: May 3, 2025
Persons whom he met and they were not all of the peasant class seeing a traveller jaunty in plumed cap, light blue camail, pointed buskins, and close-fitting hose the color of the camail, sword at his side, and javelin in hand, stayed to observe him long as he was in sight, never dreaming they were permitted to behold a favorite of one of the bloody Mahounds of the East.
Shortly a party of terror-stricken peasants ran down toward him. "Why do you run? What is the matter?" he asked. "Oh, the Turks, the Turks!" "What of them? Stand, and tell me." "We went to work this morning cutting corn, for it is now ripe enough. The Mahounds broke in on us. We were a dozen to their fifty or more. We only escaped, and they set fire to the field.
And if the bolt fell truly, there was loud laughter on the walls. The captains, moreover, were incessantly encouraging the raw men under them. "Two walls, and a hundred feet of flooded ditch! There will be merry Christmas in the next century before the Mahounds get to us at the rate they are coming. Shoot leisurely, men leisurely. An infidel for every bolt!"
No, he is challenging the Mahounds to single combat; and, my lords and gentlemen, if he be skilful as he is bold, then, by the Three Kings of Cologne, we will see some pretty work in pattern for the rest of us." Thus Grant replied. Corti made the passage safely, and in the road beyond the moat halted, and drove the staff of his banderole firmly in the ground.
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