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Doyle, Arthur Conan, Sir, 1859-1930

"Sir Nigel"

There was little amenity in the warlike
ways which had been learned upon the Scottish border. The
champions rode onward without deigning to take notice of the
taunts of the rabble, but the archers turned that way and soon
beat the mob to silence. Then they resolved themselves into the
keepers of the ground, and pressed the people back until they
formed a dense line along the edge of the field, leaving the
whole space clear for the warriors.
The Breton champions had not yet arrived, so the English tethered
their horses at one side of the ground, and then gathered round
their leader. Every man had his shield slung round his neck, and
had cut his spear to the length of five feet so that it might be
more manageable for fighting on foot. Besides the spear a sword
or a battle-ax hung at the side of each. They were clad from head
to foot in armor, with devices upon the crests and surcoats to
distinguish them from their antagonists. At present their visors
were still up and they chatted gayly with each other.
"By Saint Dunstan!" cried Percy, slapping his gauntleted hands
together and stamping his steel feet. "I shall be right glad to
get to work, for my blood is chilled."
"I warrant you will be warm enough ere you get through," said
Calverly.
"Or cold forever. Candle shall burn and bell toll at Alnwick
Chapel if I leave this ground alive, but come what may, fair sirs,
it should be a famous joust and one which will help us forward.


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