resting upon their weapons, in readiness
at any moment to renew their own portion of the combat.

Fulk, tall and robust, had far more the appearance of strength than his
slenderly-made antagonist, but three years in the school of chivalry
had not been wasted by Eustace, and the sword of Du Guesclin was in a
hand well accustomed to its use. Old Ralph was uttering under his
breath ecstatic exclamations: "Ha! Well struck! A rare foil--a
perfect hit--Have a care--Ah! there comes my old blow--That is
right--Old Sir Henry's master-stroke-- There--one of your new French
backstrokes--but it told--Oh! have a care--The Saints
guard--Ay--There--Follow it up! Hurrah for Lynwood!" as Fulk tottered,
slipped, sank on one knee, and receiving a severe blow on the head with
the back of the sword, measured his length on the ground.

"Hurrah for Lynwood!" re-echoed through the hall, but Eustace cut short
the clamour at once, by saying, "Peace, my friends, and thanks! Sir
Fulk de Clarenham," he added, as his fallen foe moved, and began to
raise himself, "you have received a lesson, by which I hope you will
profit. Leave the house, whose mourning you have insulted, and thank
your relationship that I forbear to bring this outrage to the notice of
the King."

While Eustace spoke, Fulk had, by the assistance of two of his
retainers, recovered his feet; but though unwounded, he was so dizzied
with the blow as to be passive in their hands, and to allow himself to
be led into the court, and placed on his horse. Before riding out of
the gates, he turned round, and clenching his fist, glanced malignantly
at Eustace, and muttered, "You shall aby it."

Another shout of "Down with the false Clarenham! Hurrah for the Lances
of Lynwood, and the brave young Knight!" was raised in the court by the
peasantry, among whom Fulk was so much hated, that not even regard for
their future welfare could prevent them from indulging in this triumph.
Probably, too, they expected the satisfaction of drinking the health of
the victor, for there were many disappointed countenances when he spoke
from the steps of the porch:--"Thanks for your good-will, my friends.
Fare ye well, depart in peace, and remember your young Lord." Then
turning to the parish Priest, he added, in a low voice, "See that they
leave the Castle as soon as possible. The gates must be secured as
soon as may be."

He turned back into the hall, and at the door was met by little Arthur,
who