It was a question far too deep for my boyish brain. Besides I knew that silence was the beginning of caution, so I flung my hand in the air as though the affair were of no importance to me. “From what I have heard,” I said, “the Black Prince is well able to care for himself.” I saw an expression of contempt gather on his face. “The meeting at Rouen was a blow to your country,” the man went on with more perseverance than ever. “A good dozen of your finest blood lost their lives. It’s a good thing,” he added with biting scorn, “that you were not there yourself!” I was growing angry. “Why?” I demanded. “Because,” he replied with cutting deliberation, “you would not have had the courage to raise an arm in your own defence!” The hot blood stole slowly to my neck and face. I saw out of the corner of my eye that the armorer was rolling his sleeves up over his elbows, while one hand reached out for the hammer that lay alongside the anvil. “Have you come here to pick a quarrel?” I demanded. “As you wish,” he said and spat derisively upon the ground. It was a challenge flung into my teeth. I was but a lad, of course, but for all that of big bone and strong from the life which I had lived in the open. My opponent was a man full grown and, from what I had just seen, as quick and slippery in his actions as an eel. For the moment in my wrath I took little heed of these things but knotted my fists together and advanced towards him. I thought that if I could strike the first blow I could settle him once for all and so end his insolence. With a lunge that ought to have carried him off his feet I made at him. To my surprise I beat only into the empty air. The fellow had slipped to the one side with a light gliding motion that for quickness fairly took my breath away. Then, to add fire to my discomfiture, he calmly placed his hands flat upon his hips and stood smiling at me. “A Norman calf!” he cried. “If the rest of your race can fight no better than that, it is no wonder that the King of France will soon devour you!” I made no answer. The taunt struck me with the sharpness of a knife. If I was full of wrath before, I was boiling with anger now. I steadied myself on the balls of my feet and looked the fellow in the eye. Then, with greater quickness than at first, I rushed again upon him. But he was ready, even more than I had expected. Instead of leaping to the side, he jumped back and, as I came towards him, struck me a sharp blow on the face with his open hand.