Lord Lacy now advanced towards him. "You intrude upon my privacy,
soldier; withdraw yourself and Your followers. There is peace betwixt our
nations, or my servants should chastise thy presumption."
"Such peace as ye give such shall you have," answered the moss-trooper,
first pointing with his lance towards the burned village, and then almost
instantly levelling it against Lord Lacy. The squire drew his sword, and
severed at one blow the steel head from the truncheon of the spear.
"Arthur Fitzherbert," said the baron, "that stroke has deferred thy
knighthood for one year; never must that squire wear the spurs whose
unbridled impetuosity can draw unbidden his sword in the presence of his
master. Go hence, and think on what I have said."
The squire left the chamber abashed.
"It were vain," continued Lord Lacy, "to expect that courtesy from a
mountain churl which even my own followers can forget. Yet before thou
drawest thy brand," for the intruder laid his hand upon the hilt of his
sword, "thou wilt do well to reflect that I came with a safe-conduct from
thy king, and have no time to waste in brawls with such as thou."
"From my king,--from my king!" re-echoed the mountaineer.
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