“I tell you the knights were not the biggest; they very often fought huge people and monsters. And don’t you remember how Ulysses served the giant with one eye?” “I should like to bore a hole through Ted like that,” said Mark. “He’s a brute, and Phil’s as cunning as ever he can be, and you’ve been and lost the battle.” “I tell you I’ve got Cecil, who is as quick as lightning, and all the sharp ones, and if you say any more I won’t speak to you again, and I’ll have some one else for lieutenant.” Mark nodded his head, and growled to himself, but he did not dare go farther. They worked all the afternoon in the bench-room, cutting off the swords to the same length, and fastening on the cross-pieces. They did not talk, Mark was sulky, and Bevis on his dignity. In the evening Phil came with the ribbons. Next morning, while they were making two more eagles for Pompey, Val Crassus came to say he thought they ought to have telescopes, as officers had field-glasses; but Bevis said they were not invented in the time of their war. The day was very warm, still, and cloudless, and, after they had fixed the three brass rings on each long rod for standards, Bevis brought the old grey book of ballads out of the parlour into the orchard. Though he had used it so often he could not find his favourite place quickly, because the pages were not only frayed but some were broader than others, and would not run through the fingers, but adhered together. When he had found “Kyng Estmere,” he and Mark lay down on the grass under the shadow of a damson-tree, and chanted the verses, reading them first, and then singing them. Presently they came to where:-- “Kyng Estmere threwe the harpe asyde, And swith he drew his brand; And Estmere he, and Adler yonge, Right stiffe in stour can stand. “And ay their swords soe sore can byte, Through help of gramaryè, That soone they have slayne the Kempery men, Or forst them forth to flee.” These they repeated twenty times, for their minds were full of battle; and Bevis said after they had done the war they would study gramaryè or magic. Just afterwards Cecil came to ask if they ought not to have bugles, as the Romans had trumpets, and Bevis had a bugle somewhere. Bevis thought it was proper, but it was of no use, for nobody could blow the bugle but the old Bailiff, and he could only get one long note from it, so dreadful that you had to put your hands to your ears if you stood near. Cecil also said that in his garden at home there was a bay-tree, and ought they not to have wreaths for the victors? Bevis said that was capital, and Cecil went home with orders from Caesar to get his sisters to make some wreaths of bay for their triumph when they had won the battle.