“Nay, my lord; but ’tis enough. The Mountjoys fight their enemies and do not lie about them.” With a wave of his hand the King bade my father be seated. Then he sat motionless and thoughtful for long, while none ventured to disturb him. His brow was drawn as with pain and he rested his head on his hand, the while we of Mountjoy, our enemies of Carleton all the members of that brilliant company awaited his verdict. At last he slowly lifted his head and began to speak: “I find the prisoners guilty of the charge that lies against them. To Richard, son of Robert, Lord of Mountjoy, I extend my clemency in view of the loyal and valiant service rendered by his father to our house, commanding only that he desist from bearing arms till he receive our permission. “As for yonder varlet, called Cedric, he shall hang, to-morrow at dawn; and his body shall swing from Shrewsbury gate as an example to like evil-doers.” Some of the clerks and constables strove to raise the shout—“Long live the King”; but all became utterly silent when my father sprang from his bench, and with a face of fury addressed his sovereign: “Not so, my lord! Not so! By the Holy Sepulcher, it shall not be.” The King sprang to his feet, and his right hand went to his sword hilt. “Mountjoy,” he shouted, “thou forget’st thyself. Beware lest thou bring down on thy head a wrath more terrible than that of any Carleton.” “By Heaven, my lord!” returned the Lord of Mountjoy in tones that matched the King’s, “that brave youth shall never hang for having done a deed that should bring him praise instead. I stand on my rights as a freeman of England, and demand the _trial by battle_. There lies my glove.” Tearing from his hand his leathern gauntlet, he dashed it on the floor at the feet of the King. All the assembled knights and soldiers drew a deep breath, as one man. There was a low murmur of applause, for the Mountjoys have many friends. The King’s hand left his sword, and his face relaxed. “Thou hast the right, Mountjoy,” he said. Then, turning to the Carleton benches, went on: “Is there any among you who will take up this challenge?” At this there started forth from a group of knights who had been standing a little behind the Lady of Carleton, a man of middle age, short of stature and of wide-mouthed, ill-favored face, but broad of shoulder and with arms so long that his hands reached nearly to his knees like those of a great ape I had seen in the train of the Cardinal. “I, Philip, Knight of Latiere in Gascony, am cousin of Elizabeth, Lady of Carleton,” he shouted. “I take up this glove as her protector and champion.” Then, seizing the glove, he tossed it high in air; and while it soared aloft, drew a long and slender blade from its scabbard, and as the glove fell, pierced it with a flashing thrust so that he held it high where all might see it impaled on the point of his sword.