Tranter shrugged his shoulders. 'You have done what you could to save him, Harcomb,' said he. 'We had best settle at once.'
'So say I,' cried Alleyne.
'The council will not break up until the banquet,' remarked a grey-haired squire. 'You have a clear two hours.'
'And the place?'
'The tilting-yard is empty at this hour.'
'Nay; it must not be within the grounds of the court, or it may go hard with all concerned if it come to the ears of the prince.'
'But there is a quiet spot near the river,' said one youth. 'We have but to pass through the abbey grounds, along the armoury wall, past the church of St. Remi, and so down the Rue des Apôtres.'
'En avant, then!' cried Tranter shortly, and the whole assembly flocked out into the open air, save only those whom the special orders of their masters held to their posts. These unfortunates crowded to the small casements, and craned their necks after the throng as far as they could catch a glimpse of them.
Close to the bank of the Garonne there lay a little tract of green sward, with the high wall of a prior's garden upon one side and an orchard with a thick bristle of leafless apple-trees upon the other. The river ran deep and swift up to the steep bank; but there were few boats upon it, and the ships were moored far out in the centre of the stream. Here the two combatants drew their swords and threw off their doublets, for neither had any defensive armour. The duello with its stately etiquette had not yet come into vogue, but rough and sudden encounters were as common as they must ever be when hot-headed youth goes abroad with a weapon strapped to its waist. In such combats, as well as in the more formal sports of the tilting-yard, Tranter had won a name for strength and dexterity which had caused Norbury to utter his well-meant warning. On the other hand, Alleyne had used his weapons in constant exercise
