*OF THE SHARPENING OF THE COCKEREL’S SPURS.* And now the morning of the Feast of St Michael had come. All the preparations were complete, and the lists were ready decked. The green sward between the stout palings, gaily painted and bedizened with flags, was divided in the middle by a barrier, which was covered with a gorgeous hanging, and parted the lists lengthways into two equal divisions. As Dicky Cheke and Ralph Lisle strolled round in the early morning--for there was no drill that day, and all ordinary exercises were suspended--they were delighted at the handsome appearance of the preparations. The covered gallery or grand-stands for the ladies; the numberless poles, gilded and painted, from which gay shields of arms were hung, and still gayer banners and banderoles fluttered; the lavish adornment and laborious preparations, struck them with astonishment, although they had seen the work going on for some days past. "In sooth, Dicky, there’s been great charges here. Who pays the cost?" "Why the Captain, certes, though the Bretons pay some of it; but ’tis rarely done, i’ faith. Thou’rt a lucky wight, Ralph, but thou wilt get a fall to-day, for ’tis not ’gainst ’Pig’s Eyes’ or Bowerman thou wilt ride, so make up thy mind to comfort thy broken bones." "Ay, marry will I," said Ralph, laughing. "But I trust to do my devoir without disgrace. But ’twas a sad mischance Black Tom went lame," added the boy, changing his merry tone to a sad one. "He was _the_ horse of all others for a tilt. Such depth of chest, such limbs and wind! Beshrew me if I can think how he could have gone lame like that, and only yesterday too. ’Twas a rare mischance," and Ralph looked very downcast. With the money, or rather the order which the Abbot of Quarr had given to pay for all things needful to the merchant, Master Langstoke, Ralph had bought two very serviceable horses, one a great bargain. He had been guided in his choice by Humphrey, who was a likely man at buying cattle. This horse had belonged to an esquire who had been killed at the battle of Stoke, and was thoroughly broken to all the work of the tilt-yard and the battlefield. Ralph had been delighted at getting such an animal, and the congratulations he received upon it. Many old hands had told him that a good horse was more than half the battle, and all who saw Black Tom were loud in their praises of his good points. "Ye see, Master Lisle, ’tis this way," remarked Lord Woodville’s head varlet or groom. "A ’oss that’s too quiet be’t no good, nor a ’oss that’s all fire. What you wants is a animal that’s used to the work, and this ’un be, for I knows ’un."