rumoured that Du Guesclin, with all the best lances of France, have taken service under the lions and towers of Castile. But, comrade, it is in my mind that there is some small matter of dispute still open between us.'
''Fore God, it is sooth,' cried the other. 'I had forgot it. The provost-marshal and his men tore us apart when last we met.'
'On which, friend, we vowed that we should settle the point when next we came together. Hast thy sword, I see, and the moon throws glimmer enough for such old night-birds as we. On guard, mon gar! I have not heard clink of steel this month or more.'
'Out from the shadow, then,' said the other, drawing his sword. 'A vow is a vow, and not lightly to be broken.'
'A vow to the saints,' cried Alleyne, 'is indeed not to be set aside; but this is a devil's vow, and, simple clerk as I am, I am yet the mouthpiece of the true Church when I say that it were mortal sin to fight on such a quarrel. What! shall two grown men carry malice for years, and fly like snarling curs at each other's throats?'
'No malice, my young clerk, no malice,' quoth Black Simon. 'I have not a bitter drop in my heart for mine old comrade; but the quarrel, as he hath told you, is still open and unsettled. Fall on, Aylward!'
'Not whilst I can stand between you,' cried Alleyne, springing before the bowman. 'It is shame and sin to see two Christian Englishmen turn swords against each other like the frenzied bloodthirsty paynim.'
'And, what is more,' said Hordle John, suddenly appearing out of the buttery with the huge board upon which the pastry was rolled, 'if either raise sword I shall flatten him like Shrove-tide pancake. By the black rood! I shall drive him into the earth like a nail into a door, rather than see you do scath to each other.'
''Fore God, this is a strange way of preaching peace,' cried Black Simon. 'You may find the scath yourself, my
