“Then you must bide such a buffet as you never abode before. They say his arm has seven men’s strength; and whosoever visits him, he challenges to give and take a blow; but every man that has taken a blow as yet has never needed another.” “Hereward will have need of his magic head-piece, if he tries that adventure,” quoth another. “Ay,” retorted the first speaker; “but the helmet may stand the rap well enough, and yet the brains inside be the worse.” “Not a doubt. I knew a man once, who was so strong, that he would shake a nut till the kernel went to powder, and yet never break the shell.” “That is a lie!” quoth Hereward. And so it was, and told purposely to make him expose himself. Whereon high words followed, which Torfrida tried in vain to stop. Hereward was flushed with ire and scorn. “Magic armor, forsooth!” cried he at last. “What care I for armor or for magic? I will wager to you”--“my armor,” he was on the point of saying, but he checked himself in time--“any horse in my stable, that I go in my shirt to Scaldmariland, and bring back that mare single-handed.” “Hark to the Englishman. He has turned Berserk at last, like his forefathers. You will surely start in a pair of hose as well, or the ladies will be shamed.” And so forth, till Torfrida was purple with shame, and wished herself fathoms deep; and Adela of France called sternly from the head of the table to ask what the wrangling meant. “It is only the English Berserker, the Lady Torfrida’s champion,” said some one, in his most courteous tone, “who is not yet as well acquainted with the customs of knighthood as that fair lady hopes to make him hereafter.” “Torfrida’s champion?” asked Adela, in a tone of surprise, if not scorn. “If any knight quarrels with my Hereward, he quarrels with Robert himself!” thundered Count Robert. “Silence!” And so the matter was hushed up. The banquet ended; and they walked out into the garden to cool their heads, and play at games, and dance. Torfrida avoided Hereward: but he, with the foolish pertinacity of a man who knows he has had too much wine, and yet pretends to himself that he has not, would follow her, and speak to her. She turned away more than once. At last she was forced to speak to him. “So! You have made me a laughing-stock to these knights. You have scorned at my gifts. You have said--and before these men, too--that you need neither helm nor hauberk. Give me them back, then, Berserker as you are, and go sleep off your wine.” “That will I,” laughed Hereward boisterously. “You are tipsy,” said she, “and do not know what you say.” “You are angry, and do not know what you say. Hearken, proud lass. I will take care of one thing, and that is, that you shall speak the truth.” “Did I not say that you were tipsy?” “Pish! You said that I was a Berserker. And truth you shall speak; for baresark I go to-morrow to the war, and baresark I win that mare or die.” “That will be very fit for you.”