the Lord: "This minstrel's tale goes with the song the bird sang to me this morning; and therefore am I here thronging--to win thy head, rank reiver, and this young man's head, since it may not better be, and let the others go free for this time. Hah! what sayest thou? and thou, youngling? 'Tis but the stroke of a sword, since thou hast fallen into my hands, and not into the hangman's or the King's."
"Thou must win them first, Lord," said Jack of the Tofts. "Therefore, what sayest thou? Where shall we cast down the white shield and uprear the red?"
"Hot art thou, head, heart, and hand, rank reiver," said the Lord; "bide a while." So he sat silent a little; then he said: "Thou seest, Jack of the Tofts, that now thou hast thrust the torch into the tow; if I go back to King Rolf without the heads of you twain, I am like to pay for it with mine own. Therefore hearken. If we buckle together in fight presently, it is most like that I shall come to my above, but thou art so wily and stout that it is not unlike that thou, and perchance this luckless youngling, may slip through my fingers into the wood; and then it will avail me little with the King that I have slain a few score nameless wolf-heads. So, look you! here is a fair field hazelled by God; let us two use it to-day, and fight to the death here; and then if thou win me, smite off my head, and let my men fight it out afterwards, as best they may without me, and 'tis like they will be beaten then. But if I win thee, then I win this youngling withal, and bear back both heads to my Lord King, after I have scattered thy wolf-heads and slain as many as I will; which shall surely befall, if thou be slain first."
Then cried out Jack of the Tofts: "Hail to thy word, stout-heart! this is well offered, and I take it for myself and my Lord King here." And all that stood by and heard gave a glad sound with their voices, and their armour rattled and rang as man turned to man to praise their captains.
But now spake Christopher: "Lord of Brimside, it is nought wondrous though thou set me aside as of no account, whereas thou deemest me no king or king's kindred; but thou, Lord Earl, who wert once Jack of the Tofts, I marvel at thee, that thou hast forgotten thy King so soon. Ye twain shall now wot that this is my quarrel, and that none but I shall take this battle upon him.
"Thou servant of Rolf, the traitor and murderer, hearken! I say that I am King of Oakenrealm, and the very son of King Christopher the Old; and that will I maintain with my body against every gainsayer. Thou Lord of Brimside, wilt thou gainsay it? Then I say thou liest, and lo here, my glove!" And he cast it down before the Lord.
Again was there good rumour, and that from either side of the bystanders; but Jack of the Tofts stood up silent and stiff, and the Baron of Brimside laughed, and said: "Well, swain, if thou art weary of life, so let it be, as for me; but how sayest thou, Jack of the Tofts? Art thou content to give thine head away in this fashion, whereas thou wottest that I shall presently slay this king of thine?"
Said Jack: "The King of Oakenrealm must rule me as well as others of his liege-men: he must fight if he will, and be slain if he will." Then suddenly he fell a-laughing, and beat his hand on his thigh till the armour rattled again, and then he cried out: "Lord Gandolf, Lord Gandolf, have a care, I bid thee! Where wilt thou please to be buried, Lord?"
Said the other: "I wot not what thou wilt mean by thy fooling, rank reiver. But here I take up this youngling's glove; and on his head be his fate! Now as to this battle. My will is, that we two champions be all alone and afoot on the eyot. How say ye?"
"Even so be it," said Jack; "but I say that half a score on each side shall be standing on their own bank to see the play, and the rest of the host come no nigher than now we are."
"I yea-say it," said the Baron; "and now do thou, rank reiver, go back to thy fellowship and tell them what we have areded, and do thou, Oliver Marson, do so much for our folk; and bid them wot this, that if any of them break the troth, he shall lose nought more than his life for that same."
Therewith all went ashore to either bank, save the Baron of Brimside and Christopher. And the Baron laid him down on the ground and fell to whistling the tune of a merry Yule dance; but as for Christopher, he looked on his foeman, and deemed he had seldom seen so big and stalwarth a man; and withal he was of ripe age, and had seen some forty winters. Then he also cast himself down on the grass, and fell into a kind of dream, as he watched a pair of wagtails that came chirping up from the sandy spit below the eyot; till suddenly great shouting broke out, first from his own bent, and then from the foemen's, and Christopher knew that the folk on either side had just heard of the battle that was to be on the holm. The Baron arose at the sound and looked to his own men, whence were now coming that half-score who were to look on the battle from the bank; but Christopher stirred not, but lay quietly amongst the flowers of the grass, till he heard the splash of horse-hoofs in the ford, and there presently was come Jack of the Tofts bearing basnet and shield for his lord. And he got off his horse and spake to Christopher: "If I may not fight for thee, my son and King, yet at least it is the right of thine Earl to play the squire to thee: but a word before thy basnet is over thine ears; the man yonder is well-nigh a giant for stature and strength; yet I think thou mayest deal with him, and be none the sorer when thou liest down to-night. To be short, this is it: when thou hast got a stroke in upon him, and he falters, then give him no time, but fly at him in thy wild-cat manner and show what-like thews thou hast under thy smooth skin; now thine helm, lad. So art thou dight; and something tells me thou shalt do it off in victory."
CHAPTER XXXI. THE BATTLE ON THE HOLM.
So when Christopher was armed, Jack turned about speedily, and so gat him back through the ford and stood there on the bank with the nine other folk of the Tofts. And by this time was Gandolf of Brimside armed also, and Oliver Marson, who had done his helm on him, was gone to his side of the river.
Drew the huge man-at-arms then toward Christopher, but his sword was yet in the sheath: Christopher set his point to the earth and abode him; and the Baron spake: "Lad, thou art fair and bold both, as I can see it, and Jack of the Tofts is so much an old foe of mine that he is well-nigh a friend: so what sayest thou? If thou wilt yield thee straightway, I will have both thine head and the outlaw's with me to King Rolf, but yet on your shoulders and ye two alive. Haps will go as haps will; and it maybe that ye shall both live for another battle, and grow wiser, and mayhappen abide in the wood with the reiver's men. Hah? What sayest thou?"
Christopher laughed and said: "Wouldst thou pardon one who is not yet doomed, Baron? And yet thy word is pleasant to us; for we see that if we win thee, thou shalt be good liegeman of us. Now, Baron, sword in fist!"
Gandolf drew his sword, muttering: "Ah, hah! he is lordly and kingly enough, yet may this learn him a lesson." Indeed the blade was huge and brown and ancient, and sword and man had looked a very terror save to one great-hearted.
But Christopher said: "What sayest thou now, Baron, shall we cast down our shields to earth? For why should we chop into wood and leather?"
The Baron cast down his shield, and said: "Bold are thy words, lad; if thy deeds go with them, it may be better for thee than for me. Now keep thee."
And therewith he leapt forward and swept his huge sword around; but Christopher swerved speedily and enough, so that the blade touched him not, and the huge man had over-reached himself, and ere he had his sword well under sway again, Christopher had smitten him so sharply on the shoulder that the mails were sundered & the blood ran; and withal the Baron staggered with the mere weight of the stroke. Then Christopher saw his time, and leapt aloft and dealt such a stroke on the side of his head, that the Baron tottered yet more; but now was he taught by those two terrible strokes, and he gathered all his heart to him, and all the might of his thews, and leapt aback and mastered his sword, and came on fierce but wary, shouting out for Brimside and the King.
Christopher cried never a cry, but swung his sword well within his sway, and the stroke came on Gandolf's fore-arm and brake the mails and wounded him, and then as the Baron rushed forward, the wary lad gat his blade under his foeman's nigh the hilts, and he gave it a wise twist and forth flew the ancient iron away from its master.
Gandolf seemed to heed not that he was swordless,