As has already been explained, both Aymery and Roland had for years past proudly worn the gage of Beatrice, with or without her permission, and not unnaturally this news sent them nearly wild with the desire to follow Sir John as his esquire. To take part in a famous campaign beneath her very eyes would, they felt certain, be a sure means towards gaining her admiration. From the moment this news leaked out their rivalry was fanned to boiling-point, and the quarrels between them became constant. Only Edgar’s tact and self-control kept him from embroilment also; for though they knew he was no rival so far as Beatrice was concerned, for he openly scoffed at all such notions, they both feared his swordsmanship, which might defeat their ambitions to follow Sir John to the wars. All indeed that was needed to drag him within the circle of their strife was something which would rouse his antagonism to the pitch at which theirs normally stood. An explosion would then be inevitable. Unfortunately this spark was presently supplied, and the unhappy cause of the mishap was Peter, the armourer’s lad. It happened that one day Aymery had set Peter to work to burnish up his armour, which he had carelessly left exposed to the rain after he had been going over it and fondly trying it on on the walls of the keep. Peter went to work willingly enough, but the havoc was so great that by the time he should have returned to the armourer it was only half done. Hastily completing it, in a rough-and-ready fashion, he put it back in the esquires’ chamber and went on his way to the forge, intending to finish the work as soon as he was again free. Presently two or three of the pages entered the chamber, and Aymery’s armour spread out on the table was the first object to attract their attention. Not knowing or caring to whom it belonged, and ripe for any sort of mischief, they proceeded to amuse themselves by kicking and throwing the pieces about the room. Tiring of the fun, the armour was left lying where it had fallen, and remained there until Aymery and several of the esquires entered. "He refuses, Aymery," Roland was saying as they entered. "He saith that the responsibility of looking after one esquire is enough for him, and that the others must seek other opportunity of winning their spurs--at the tourney, I think he meant." "Didst press thy claims to accompany him?" enquired Aymery sourly. "They need no pressing," responded Roland haughtily. "And ’tis not _thy_ claims I fear." Aymery was about to make an angry retort when he noticed the pieces of armour he so highly prized lying about the floor in all parts of the room. "Who hath flung my armour here?" he cried, with a sudden burst of wrath. "I will trounce him finely--upon my sword, I swear it--whoever the varlet may be. Was’t any of ye?" he ended fiercely, as he glared at the shamefaced pages. The boys looked at one another uneasily, and then one more brazen than the rest replied coolly: