Though fighting keenly, Edgar kept an eye upon the room as well as upon his adversary. Aymery, he could see, was recovering from the blow he had received, and in a moment might be expected to renew the fight with temper little improved by the sharpness of his punishment. Others of his comrades were whispering together, and he fancied they meditated an attack to overcome his resistance and put an end to the conflict. Thinking it time to rid himself of Roland, for Aymery had given himself a shake and grasped his sword anew, Edgar put into effect a trick he had learned of Gaspard some years before. As their swords grated together he locked his blade in the hilt of his opponent’s sword, and, with a sharp wrench, tore the weapon from his grasp. With a shout of pain, for his wrist had been severely twisted, Roland jumped swiftly back out of reach; then, recovering from his surprise, he seized another weapon from the wall and sprang to the attack once more. Aymery was now also attacking, and the two made such an onslaught that Edgar was compelled to fence as he had never fenced before. Suddenly the door opened and Geoffrey Fletcher entered, followed by a couple of men-at-arms. "Hold!" he cried. "Hold! Cease this brawling, or ye shall cool your heels in the guardroom." But neither Aymery nor Roland paid any heed to his words; they were too intent upon beating down Edgar’s resistance. Roland had already inflicted a severe blow upon his unprotected head, and, dizzy from the effects, Edgar had retired a pace or two into the doorway, where the two blades could play upon him less easily. "Men-at-arms, arrest these brawlers!" cried Geoffrey sternly, and striding forward, followed by the two men, he seized Roland roughly by the shoulder and struck down his sword with his own weapon. One of the men-at-arms seized Aymery, and the other approached Edgar, who immediately flung his sword upon the floor, and, folding his arms, looked the man in the face. "There, Matthew!" he said, as quietly as his heaving chest would allow, "take it--it has done its work so far. Then come with me and help me to take poor Peter to his bed. He is the innocent cause of all this unhappy mischief." Matthew picked up the weapon and went and looked at Peter, who was supporting himself, half-fainting, against the wall. Then, recalled by the stern voice of Geoffrey, he whispered: "I will return and see to him, or send someone in my place." "Men-at-arms, march the prisoners to the guard-room, and keep them close till Sir John’s pleasure is known," commanded Geoffrey; and the esquires, sobered by the recollection of their folly now that the heat of the conflict was evaporating, marched unresistingly out of the chamber down the stairs to the guardroom adjoining the castle gates. *CHAPTER VI* *Sir John’s Esquire*