WHILST the prince's council was sitting, Alleyne and Ford hadremained in the outer hall, where they were soon surrounded by anoisy group of young Englishmen of their own rank, all eager tohear the latest news from England.

"How is it with the old man at Windsor?" asked one.

"And how with the good Queen Philippa?"

"And how with Dame Alice Perrers?" cried a third.

"The devil take your tongue, Wat!" shouted a tall young man,seizing the last speaker by the collar and giving him anadmonitory shake. "The prince would take your head off for thosewords."

"By God's coif! Wat would miss it but little," said another. "Itis as empty as a beggar's wallet."

"As empty as an English squire, coz," cried the first speaker."What a devil has become of the maitre-destables and his sewers?They have not put forth the trestles yet."

"Mon Dieu! if a man could eat himself into knighthood, Humphrey,you had been a banneret at the least," observed another, amid aburst of laughter.

"And if you could drink yourself in, old leather-head, you hadbeen first baron of the realm," cried the aggrieved Humphrey."But how of England, my lads of Loring?"

"I take it," said Ford, "that it is much as it was when you werethere last, save that perchance there is a little less noisethere."

"And why less noise, young Solomon?"

"Ah, that is for your wit to discover."

"Pardieu! here is a paladin come over, with the Hampshire mudstill sticking to his shoes. He means that the noise is less forour being out of the country."

"They are very quick in these parts," said Ford, turning toAlleyne.

"How are we to take this, sir?" asked the ruffling squire.

"You may take it as it comes," said Ford carelessly.

"Here is pertness!" cried the other.

"Sir, I honor your truthfulness," said Ford.

"Stint it, Humphrey," said the tall squire, with a burst oflaughter. "You will have little credit from this gentleman, Iperceive. Tongues are sharp in Hampshire, sir."

"And swords?"

"Hum! we may prove that. In two days' time is the vepres dutournoi, when we may see if your lance is as quick as your wit."

"All very well, Roger Harcomb," cried a burly, bullnecked youngman, whose square shoulders and massive limbs told of exceptionalpersonal strength. "You pass too lightly over the matter. Weare not to be so easily overcrowed. The Lord Loring hath givenhis proofs; but we know nothing of his squires, save that one ofthem hath a railing tongue. And how of you, young sir?" bringinghis heavy hand down on Alleyne's shoulder.

"And what of me, young sir?"

"Ma foi! this is my lady's page come over. Your cheek will bebrowner and your hand harder ere you see your mother again."

"If my hand is not hard, it is ready."

"Ready? Ready for what? For the hem of my lady's train?"

"Ready to chastise insolence, sir," cried Alleyne with hashingeyes.

"Sweet little coz!" answered the burly squire. "Such a daintycolor! Such a mellow voice! Eyes of a bashful maid, and hairlike a three years' babe! Voila!" He passed his thick fingersroughly through the youth's crisp golden curls.

"You seek to force a quarrel, sir," said the young man, whitewith anger.

"And what then?"

"Why, you do it like a country boor, and not like a gentlesquire. Hast been ill bred and as ill taught. I serve a masterwho could show you how such things should he done."

"And how would he do it, O pink of squires?"

"He would neither be loud nor would he be unmannerly, but rathermore gentle than is his wont. He would say, 'Sir, I should takeit as an honor to do some small deed of arms against you, not formine own glory or advancement, but rather for the fame of my ladyand for the upholding of chivalry.' Then he would draw hisglove, thus, and throw it on the ground; or, if he had cause tothink that he had to deal with a churl, he might throw it in hisface--as I do now!"

A buzz of excitement went up from the knot of squires as Alleyne,his gentle nature turned by this causeless attack into fieryresolution, dashed his glove with all his strength into thesneering face of his antagonist. From all parts of the hallsquires and pages came running, until a dense, swaying crowdsurrounded the disputants.

"Your life for this!" said the bully, with a face which wasdistorted with rage.

"If you can take it," returned Alleyne.

"Good lad!" whispered Ford. "Stick to it close as wax."

"I shall see justice," cried Newbury, Sir Oliver's silentattendant.

"You brought it upon yourself, John Tranter," said the tallsquire, who had been addressed as Roger Harcomb. "You must everplague the new-comers. 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. "Theremust be a finish to this."

"Nay; Tranter first laid hand upon his head," said Harcomb. "Howsay you, Tranter? The matter may rest where it stands?"

"My name is known in these parts," said Tranter, proudly, "I canlet pass what might leave a stain upon another. Let him pick uphis glove and say that he has done amiss."

"I would see him in the claws of the devil first," whisperedFord.

"You hear, young sir?" said the peacemaker. "Our friend willoverlook the matter if you do but say that you have acted in heatand haste."

"I cannot say that," answered Alleyne.

"It is our custom, young sir, when new squires come amongst usfrom England, to test them in some such way. Bethink you that ifa man have a destrier or a new lance he will ever try it in timeof peace, lest in days of need it may fail him. How much morethen is it proper to test those who are our comrades in arms."

"I would draw out if it may honorably be done," murmured Norburyin Alleyne's ear. "The man is a noted swordsman and far aboveyour strength."

Edricson came, however, of that sturdy Saxon blood which is veryslowly heated, but once up not easily to be cooled. The hint ofdanger which Norbury threw out was the one thing needed to hardenhis resolution.

"I came here at the back of my master," he said, "and I looked onevery man here as an Englishman and a friend. This gentlemanhath shown me a rough welcome, and if I have answered him in thesame spirit he has but himself to thank. I will pick the gloveup; but, certes, I shall abide what I have done unless he firstcrave my pardon for what he hath said and done."

Tranter shrugged his shoulders. "You have done what you could tosave 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 agray-haired squire. "You have a clear two hours."

"And the place?"

"The tilting-yard is empty at this hour."

"Nay; it must not be within the grounds of the court, or it maygo hard with all concerned if it come to the ears of the prince."

"But there is a quiet spot near the river," said one youth. "Wehave but to pass through the abbey grounds, along the armorywall, past the church of St. Remi, and so down the Rue desApotres."

"En avant, then!" cried Tranter shortly, and the whole assemblyflocked out into the open air, save only those whom the specialorders of their masters held to their posts. These unfortunatescrowded to the small casements, and craned their necks after thethrong as far as they could catch a glimpse of them.

Close to the banks of the Garonne there lay a little tract ofgreen sward, with the high wall of a prior's garden upon one sideand an orchard with a thick bristle of leafless apple-trees uponthe other. The river ran deep and swift up to the steep bank;but there were few boats upon it, and the ships were moored farout in the centre of the stream. Here the two combatants drewtheir swords and threw off their doublets, for neither had anydefensive armor. The duello with its stately etiquette had notyet come into vogue, but rough and sudden encounters were ascommon as they must ever be when hot-headed youth goes abroadwith a weapon strapped to its waist. In such combats, as well asin the more formal sports of the tilting-yard, Tranter had won aname for strength and dexterity which had caused Norbury to utterhis well-meant warning. On the other hand, Alleyne had used hisweapons in constant exercise and practice for every day for manymonths, and being by nature quick of eye and prompt of hand, hemight pass now as no mean swordsman. A strangely opposed pairthey appeared as they approached each other: Tranter dark andstout and stiff, with hairy chest and corded arms, Alleyne amodel of comeliness and grace, with his golden hair and his skinas fair as a woman's. An unequal fight it seemed to most; butthere were a few, and they the most experienced, who sawsomething in the youth's steady gray eye and wary step which leftthe issue open to doubt.

"Hold, sirs, hold!" cried Norbury, ere a blow had been struck."This gentleman hath a two-handed sword, a good foot longer thanthat of our friend."

"Take mine, Alleyne," said Ford.

"Nay, friends," he answered, "I understand the weight and balanceof mine own. To work, sir, for our lord may need us at theabbey!"

Tranter's great sword was indeed a mighty vantage in his favor.He stood with his feet close together, his knees bent outwards,ready for a dash inwards or a spring out. The weapon he heldstraight up in front of him with blade erect, so that he mighteither bring it down with a swinging blow, or by a turn of theheavy blade he might guard his own head and body. A furtherprotection lay in the broad and powerful guard which crossed thehilt, and which was furnished with a deep and narrow notch, inwhich an expert swordsman might catch his foeman's blade, and bya quick turn of his wrist might snap it across. Alleyne, on theother hand, must trust for his defence to his quick eye andactive foot--for his sword, though keen as a whetstone couldmake it, was of a light and graceful build with a narrow, slopingpommel and a tapering steel.

Tranter well knew his advantage and lost no time in putting it touse. As his opponent walked towards him he suddenly boundedforward and sent in a whistling cut which would have severed theother in twain had he not sprung lightly back from it. So closewas it that the point ripped a gash in the jutting edge of hislinen cyclas. Quick as a panther, Alleyne sprang in with athrust, but Tranter, who was as active as he was strong, hadalready recovered himself and turned it aside with a movement ofhis heavy blade. Again he whizzed in a blow which made thespectators hold their breath, and again Alleyne very quickly andswiftly slipped from under it, and sent back two lightningthrusts which the other could scarce parry. So close were theyto each other that Alleyne had no time to spring back from thenext 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 breathingheavily, while the crowd of young squires buzzed their applause.

"Bravely struck on both sides!" cried Roger Harcomb. "You haveboth won honor from this meeting, and it would be sin and shameto let it go further."

"You have done enough, Edricson," said Norbury.

"You have carried yourself well," cried several of the oldersquires.

"For my part, I have no wish to slay this young man," saidTranter, wiping his heated brow.

"Does this gentleman crave my pardon for having used medespitefully?" asked Alleyne.

"Nay, not I."

"Then stand on your guard, sir!" With a clatter and dash the twoblades met once more, Alleyne pressing in so as to keep withinthe full sweep of the heavy blade, while Tranter as continuallysprang back to have space for one of his fatal cuts. A three-parts-parried blow drew blood from Alleyne's left shoulder, butat the same moment he wounded Tranter slightly upon the thigh.Next instant, however, his blade had slipped into the fatalnotch, there was a sharp cracking sound with a tinkling upon theground, and he found a splintered piece of steel fifteen incheslong was all that remained to him of his weapon.

"Your life is in my hands!" cried Tranter, with a bitter smile.

"Nay, nay, he makes submission!" broke in several squires.Another sword!" cried Ford.

"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 witha fire and a fury which more than made up for the shortness ofhis weapon. It had not escaped him that his opponent wasbreathing in short, hoarse gasps, like a man who is dizzy withfatigue. Now was the time for the purer living and the moreagile limb to show their value. Back and back gave Tranter, everseeking time for a last cut. On and on came Alleyne, his jaggedpoint now at his foeman's face, now at his throat, now at hischest, still stabbing and thrusting to pass the line of steelwhich covered him. Yet his experienced foeman knew well thatsuch efforts could not be long sustained. Let him relax for oneinstant, and his death-blow had come. Relax he must! Flesh andblood could not stand the strain. Already the thrusts were lessfierce, the foot less ready, although there was no abatement ofthe spirit in the steady gray eyes. Tranter, cunning and waryfrom years of fighting, knew that his chance had come. Hebrushed aside the frail weapon which was opposed to him, whirledup his great blade, sprang back to get the fairer sweep--andvanished into the waters of the Garonne.

So intent had the squires, both combatants and spectators, beenon the matter in hand, that all thought of the steep bank andswift still stream had gone from their minds. It was not untilTranter, giving back before the other's fiery rush, was upon thevery brink, that a general cry warned him of his danger. Thatlast spring, which he hoped would have brought the fight to abloody end, carried him clear of the edge, and he found himselfin an instant eight feet deep in the ice-cold stream. Once andtwice his gasping face and clutching fingers broke up through thestill green water, sweeping outwards in the swirl of the current.In vain were sword-sheaths, apple-branches and belts linkedtogether thrown out to him by his companions. Alleyne haddropped his shattered sword and was standing, trembling in everylimb, with his rage all changed in an instant to pity. For thethird time the drowning man came to the surface, his hands fullof green slimy water-plants, his eyes turned in despair to theshore. Their glance fell upon Alleyne, and he could notwithstand the mute appeal which he read in them. In an instanthe, too, was in the Garonne, striking out with powerful strokesfor his late foeman,

Yet the current was swift and strong, and, good swimmer as hewas, it was no easy task which Alleyne had set himself. Toclutch at Tranter and to seize him by the hair was the work of afew seconds, but to hold his head above water and to make theirway out of the current was another matter. For a hundred strokeshe did not seem to gain an inch. Then at last, amid a shout ofjoy and praise from the bank, they slowly drew clear into morestagnant water, at the instant that a rope, made of a dozensword-belts linked together by the buckles, was thrown by Fordinto their very hands. Three pulls from eager arms, and the twocombatants, dripping and pale, were dragged up the bank, and laypanting upon the grass.

John Tranter was the first to come to himself, for although hehad been longer in the water, he had done nothing during thatfierce battle with the current. He staggered to his feet andlooked down upon his rescuer, who had raised himself upon hiselbow, and was smiling faintly at the buzz of congratulation andof praise which broke from the squires around him.

"I am much beholden to you, sir," said Tranter, though in no veryfriendly voice. "Certes, I should have been in the river now butfor you, for I was born in Warwickshire, which is but a drycounty, and there are few who swim in those parts."

"I ask no thanks," Alleyne answered shortly. "Give me your handto rise, Ford."

"The river has been my enemy," said Tranter, "but it hath been agood 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 ofit, which is more than I had at one time hoped for. Our youngfriend here hath very fairly and honestly earned his right to becraftsman of the Honorable Guild of the Squires of Bordeaux.Here is your doublet, Tranter."

"Alas for my poor sword which lies at the bottom of the Garonne!"said the squire.

"Here is your pourpoint, Edricson," cried Norbury. "Throw itover your shoulders, that you may have at least one dry garment."

"And now away back to the abbey!" said several.

"One moment, sirs," cried Alleyne, who was leaning on Ford'sshoulder, with the broken sword, which he had picked up, stillclutched in his right hand. "My ears may be somewhat dulled bythe water, and perchance what has been said has escaped me, but Ihave not yet heard this gentleman crave pardon for the insultswhich he put upon me in the hall."

"What! do you still pursue the quarrel?" asked Trenter.

"And why not, sir? I am slow to take up such things, but onceafoot I shall follow it while I have life or breath."

"Ma foi! you have not too much of either, for you are as white asmarble," said Harcomb bluntly. "Take my rede, sir, and let itdrop, for you have come very well out from it."

"Nay," said Alleyne, "this quarrel is none of my making; but, nowthat I am here, I swear to you that I shall never leave this spotuntil I have that which I have come for: so ask my pardon, sir,or choose another glaive and to it again."

The young squire was deadly white from his exertions, both on theland and in the water. Soaking and stained, with a smear ofblood on his white shoulder and another on his brow, there wasstill in his whole pose and set of face the trace of aninflexible resolution. His opponent's duller and more materialmind quailed before the fire and intensity of a higher spiritualnature.

"I had not thought that you had taken it so amiss," said heawkwardly. "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 handupon it."

"And the none-meat horn has blown three times," quoth Harcomb, asthey all streamed in chattering groups from the ground. "I knownot what the prince's maitre-de-cuisine will say or think. By mytroth! master Ford, your friend here is in need of a cup of wine,for he hath drunk deeply of Garonne water. I had not thoughtfrom his fair face that he had stood to this matter so shrewdly."

"Faith," said Ford, "this air of Bordeaux hath turned our turtle-dove into a game-cock. A milder or more courteous youth nevercame out of Hampshire."

"His master also, as I understand, is a very mild and courteousgentleman," remarked Harcomb; "yet I do not think that they areeither of them men with whom it is very safe to trifle."