'Is it not time to rise, Curdie?' said the king. 'It is, Your Majesty. Today we must be doing,' answered Curdie. 'What must we be doing today, Curdie?' 'Fighting, sire.' 'Then fetch me my armour--that of plated steel, in the chest there. You will find the underclothing with it.' As he spoke, he reached out his hand for his sword, which hung in the bed before him, drew it, and examined the blade. 'A little rusty!' he said, 'but the edge is there. We shall polish it ourselves today--not on the wheel. Curdie, my son, I wake from a troubled dream. A glorious torture has ended it, and I live. I know now well how things are, but you shall explain them to me as I get on my armour. No, I need no bath. I am clean. Call the colonel of the guard.' In complete steel the old man stepped into the chamber. He knew it not, but the old princess had passed through his room in the night. 'Why, Sir Bronzebeard!' said the king, 'you are dressed before me! You need no valet, old man, when there is battle in the wind!' 'Battle, sire!' returned the colonel. 'Where then are our soldiers?' 'Why, there and here,' answered the king, pointing to the colonel first, and then to himself. 'Where else, man? The enemy will be upon us ere sunset, if we be not upon him ere noon. What other thing was in your brave brain when you donned your armour, friend?' 'Your Majesty's orders, sire,' answered Sir Bronzebeard. The king smiled and turned to Curdie. 'And what was in yours, Curdie, for your first word was of battle?' 'See, Your Majesty,' answered Curdie; 'I have polished my mattock. If Your Majesty had not taken the command, I would have met the enemy at the head of my beasts, and died in comfort, or done better.' 'Brave boy!' said the king. 'He who takes his life in his hand is the only soldier. You shall head your beasts today. Sir Bronzebeard, will you die with me if need be?' 'Seven times, my king,' said the colonel. 'Then shall we win this battle!' said the king. 'Curdie, go and bind securely the six, that we lose not their guards. Can you find me a horse, think you, Sir Bronzebeard? Alas! they told me my white charger was dead.' 'I will go and fright the varletry with my presence, and secure, I trust, a horse for Your Majesty, and one for myself.' 'And look you, brother!' said the king; 'bring one for my miner boy too, and a sober old charger for the princess, for she too must go to the battle, and conquer with us.' 'Pardon me, sire,' said Curdie; 'a miner can fight best on foot. I might smite my horse dead under me with a missed blow. And besides that, I must be near to my beasts.' 'As you will,' said the king. 'Three horses then, Sir Bronzebeard.' The colonel departed, doubting sorely in his heart how to accoutre and lead from the barrack stables three horses, in the teeth of his revolted regiment. In the hall he met the housemaid. 'Can you lead a horse?' he asked. 'Yes, sir.' 'Are you willing to die for the king?'