Sir Hugh’s own choler was so high that ’tis doubtful if he sensed the meaning of Oswald’s words, for he answered with a command to throw the door wide, as he would take the cot forthwith to stable his horse within, and it should be seen who was master on the lands of DeLancey. Oswald stood immovable, and as the knight advanced on him laid hold of a firewood stick to dispute his way. At this Sir Hugh struck right madly with the weapon which he still held by the blade. By a most unhappy chance the broadsword hilt came down, full force, upon the farmer’s temple, and in an instant he was stretched dead at the feet of his master. Then Sir Hugh took horse again and rode back to the manor. Poor Dame Margery set up a piteous outcry, and soon there came two or three of the neighbor folk who heard her broken tale of the encounter. Ere night the bitter news was on every tongue within miles of DeLancey Manor; and when at dark the word went round that Margery had died also, a vengeful band soon formed itself, and those bloody deeds were done of which the earlier news had come to us. Scarce had the DeLancey man finished his tale and been taken to his lodging where the leech should tend his hurts when a messenger rode up to our court-yard gate and demanded admittance in the name of the Lord High Constable. He brought us the news that the Constable was already in the saddle and with half a hundred lances at his back was riding to DeLancey Manor for the quelling of the mutiny and the punishment of Sir Hugh’s murderers. It seemed, however, that the Lord Constable had no archers with him and feared they might be sorely needed in the fighting to come. Therefore he asked of Lord Mountjoy that he send with the messenger half a dozen mounted cross-bow men,—men who could strike a fair target at two hundred paces; and he promised to reward bountifully any such who should do the Crown good service. At this Lord Mountjoy turned to Cedric, saying: “Now here’s the chance, Cedric, my lad, for thee to earn both gold and honor. Wilt thou pick five more Mountjoy cross-bow men and ride with them ’neath the Constable’s banner?” But with a countenance of a sudden grown something pale, Cedric made reply: “Good my lord, I pray you lay not your commands upon me to that effect. This expedition likes me not.” “How now!” exclaimed my father, “this is a new temper for thee, Cedric. Thou’rt ever ready to be where shafts and quarrels fly. Surely thou’rt not frighted of peasants’ clubs and scythes.” “Nay, my lord. But for this fighting I have indeed no stomach, and ’tis like I should make but a poor soldier in the Constable’s train. I pray you, if Mountjoy must furnish archers for this work, let some other lead them.” My father’s face grew very red. He leaned far over the table toward Cedric, and seemed about to speak full loud and angrily. Then bethinking himself, he turned again to the Constable’s messenger, and said: