“I hope so, Sir Ralph. I have tried my
best, and he has been good enough to commend me warmly,
and even told my father that I was the aptest pupil
that he had.”
“I will try a bout with you presently,”
the knight said. “It is nigh two years
since we had one together, and my arm is growing stiff
for want of practice, though every day I endeavour
to keep myself in order for any opportunity or chance
that may occur, by practising against an imaginary
foe by hammering with a mace at a corn-sack swinging
from a beam. Methinks I hit it as hard as of
old, but in truth I know but little of the tricks
of these Frenchmen. They availed nothing at Poictiers
against our crushing downright blows. Still,
I would gladly see what their tricks are like.”
A FENCING BOUT
After he had talked for a short time with Mistress
De Courcy, Edgar went to the fencing-room with Sir
Ralph, and they there put on helmets and quilted leather
jerkins, with chains sewn on at the shoulders.
“Now, you are to do your best,” Sir Ralph
said, as he handed a sword to Edgar, and took one
himself.
So long as they played gently Edgar had all the advantage.
“You have learned your tricks well,” Sir
Ralph said, good-temperedly, “and, in truth,
your quick returns puzzle me greatly, and I admit that
were we both unprotected I should have no chance with
you, but let us see what you could do were we fighting
in earnest,” and he took down a couple of suits
of complete body armour from the wall.
Albert, who was looking on, fastened the buckles for
both of them.
“Ah, you know how the straps go,” Sir
Ralph said, in a tone of satisfaction. “Well,
it is something to know that, even if you don’t
know what to do with it when you have got it on.
Now, Master Edgar, have at you.”
Edgar stood on the defence, but, strong as his arm
was from constant exercise, he had some difficulty
to save his head from the sweeping blows that Sir
Ralph rained upon it.
“By my faith, young fellow,” Sir Ralph
said as, after three or four minutes, he drew back
breathless from his exertions, “your muscles
seem to be made of iron, and you are fit to hold your
own in a serious melee. You were wrong
not to strike, for I know that more than once there
was an opening had you been quick.”
Edgar was well aware of the fact, but he had not taken
advantage of it, for he felt that at his age it was
best to abstain from trying to gain a success that
could not be pleasant for the good knight.
“Well, well, we will fight no more,” the
latter said.
When Albert had unbuckled his father’s armour
and hung it up, Edgar said: “Now, Albert,
let us have a bout.”
The lad coloured hotly, and the knight burst into
a hearty laugh.
“You might as soon challenge my daughter Aline.
Well, put on the jerkin, Albert; it were well that
you should feel what a poor creature a man is who
has never had a sword in his hand.”
