I am a poor
man with many children, and I dare not risk the loss of it. But
as to what you say of the old suit of mail, is it indeed in good
condition?"
"Most excellent, save only at the neck, which is much frayed."
"To shorten the limbs is easy. It is but to cut out a length of
the mail and then loop up the links. But to shorten the body--nay,
that is beyond the armorer's art."
"It was my last hope. Nay, good armorer, if you have indeed
served and loved my gallant father, then I beg you by his memory
that you will help me now."
The armorer threw down his heavy hammer with a crash upon the
floor. "It is not only that I loved your father, Squire Loring,
but it is that I have seen you, half armed as you were, ride
against the best of them at the Castle tiltyard. Last Martinmas
my heart bled for you when I saw how sorry was your harness, and
yet you held your own against the stout Sir Oliver with his Milan
suit: When go you to Tilford?"
"Even now."
"Heh, Jenkin, fetch out the cob!" cried the worthy Wat. "May my
right hand lose its cunning if I do not send you into battle in
your father's suit! To-morrow I must be back in my booth, but
to-day I give to you without fee and for the sake of the good-will
which I bear to your house. I will ride with you to Tilford, and
before night you shall see what Wat can do."
So it came about that there was a busy evening at the old Tilford
Manor-house, where the Lady Ermyntrude planned and cut and hung
the curtains for the hall, and stocked her cupboards with the good
things which Nigel had brought from Guildford.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132