ater overtops them. This false lord,
as Sir Edmund Acour, swore fealty to Edward of England. Yet while he was
bound by that sacred oath he plotted to depose Edward and to set up on
his throne the Duke of Normandy.

"The King of England learned of that plot through me, and gave me charge
to kill or capture the traitor. But when we came face to face in a
consecrated church where I thought it sacrilege to draw sword, he, who
had just done me bitter wrong, stayed not to answer the wrong. He slunk
away into the darkness, leaving me felled by a treacherous blow. Thence
he fled to France and stirred up war against his liege lord under the
Oriflamme of King Philip. Now that this banner is in the dust he has
fled again to Venice, and here, as I have heard, broods more mischief.
Once, when after the sack of Caen I sent him my challenge, he returned
to me an insolent answer that he did not fight with merchants' sons--he
who could take mercy from the hand of a merchant's son.

"Now that for deeds done a King has made me knight, and now that
this King under his seal and sign has named me his champion, in your
presence, Illustrious, and in that of all your Court, I challenge
Cattrina again to single combat to the death with lance and sword and
dagger. Yes, and I name him coward and scullion if he refuses this, King
Edward's gage and mine," and drawing the gauntlet from his left hand,
Hugh cast it clattering to the marble floor at de Noyon's feet.

A babel of talk broke out in the great hall, and with it some _vivas_
and clapping of hands, for Hugh had spoken boldly and well; moreover,
the spectators read truth in his grey eyes. A dark figure in priest's
robe--it was that of Father Nicholas, the secretary who had brewed Red
Eve's potion--glided up to Cattrina and whispered swiftly in his ear.
Then the Doge lifted his hand and there was silence.

"My lord of Cattrina," he said, "Sir Hugh de Cressi, speaking as the
champion of our ally, the King of England, has challenged you to single
combat _a outrance_. What say you?"

"I, Illustrious?" he answered in his rich voice, drawling out his words
like one who is weary. "Oh, of course, I say that if yon brawler wishes
to find a grave in fair Venice, which is more than he deserves, I am not
the man to thwart him, seeing that his cut-throat King----"

"As the ambassador of that King I protest," broke in Sir Geoffrey. "It
is an insult that such a word should be used before me."

"I accep