My father and mother sat down by either side of us as we ate; and when our hunger had been something dulled, and the maid had been despatched for a jar of the Mountjoy honey which my mother so closely guards against the coming of noble guests, I began the tale of the fortunes of the day. “Thou knowest, Father, that young Lionel of Carleton hath often sworn to have the lives of you and me for the check the Carletons had in their foray on Mountjoy in the spring and for the bolt which came from Marvin’s bow which laid low his father, the Old Wolf of Carleton.” “Full well I know it,” growled my father, “an if he were aught but a beardless youth, I would long ago have challenged him to the combat. When he hath won his spurs, if he be still of the same mind, I’ll meet him with whatever weapons he chooses, and trust to put an end to his mouthings.” “That thou’lt never do, Father,” I cried, “for Cedric here hath come before thee. This day, but half a league from Teramore, young Lionel did meet me as I went my way alone through the forest; and did curse and revile me and all my house, saying that we of Mountjoy were a race of dogs. This being more than e’en a Mountjoy could bear, I did challenge him to mortal fight, and we did meet with swords, on foot there in the path. I quickly found that he wore, beneath his garment, a coat of linked mail which shielded him from all my thrusts. All his strokes I made shift to parry, and at last, when he found he could not reach me with his sword, he rushed within my guard, seized me with a wrestling hold and flung me on my back. Then, kneeling on my chest, he placed a poniard at my throat and sought to make me swear allegiance to the Carleton, acknowledging him as lord and suzerain. This I would never do; and truly I thought my last hour had come, for he had drawn back his dagger for the thrust, when this brave youth, coming through the woods with cross-bow drawn, did see the Carleton’s murderous aim, and let fly a bolt which struck him through the forehead.” While I spoke my mother had grown pale as death and my father red, with blazing eyes and angry clinching hands. When I paused my mother cried: “Oh, Dickon! And had’st thou no wound at all?” “Not a nick,” I answered, “though ’twas close enough, in faith. But we had more to do in no time at all, for no sooner had the Carleton breathed his last than there came a-riding towards us six stout men-at-arms of the Carleton livery. We took horse and rode for our lives, Cedric here on the Carleton’s great war-horse. But my little Clothilde being no match for their long-limbed steeds, we should have been overhauled and slain had not Cedric twice turned on them with his cross-bow, each time landing a bolt that sent one of the robber hounds to earth. With that, and with hard riding through the woods where no paths were, we at last got safe away.”