week I won for myself a noble war-horse for which I paid
not a penny, so perchance a suit of armor may also come my way."

"And how won you the horse?"

"It was given me by the monks of Waverley."

"This is wonderful. Pardieu! I should have expected, from what I had
seen, that they would have given you little save their malediction."

"They had no use for the horse, and they gave it to me."

"Then we have only to find some one who has no use for a suit of armor
and will give it to you. Yet I trust that you will think better of it
and let me, since that good lady proves that I am your kinsman, fit you
for the wars."

"I thank you, noble sir, and if I should turn to anyone it would indeed
be to you; but there are other ways which I would try first. But I pray
you, good Sir John, to tell me of some of your noble spear-runnings
against the French, for the whole land rings with the tale of your deeds
and I have heard that in one morning three champions have fallen before
your lance. Was it not so?"

"That it was indeed so these scars upon my body will prove; but these
were the follies of my youth."

"How can you call them follies? Are they not the means by which
honorable advancement may be gained and one's lady exalted?"

"It is right that you should think so, Nigel. At your age a man should
have a hot head and a high heart. I also had both and fought for my
lady's glove or for my vow or for the love of fighting. But as one grows
older and commands men one has other things to think of. One thinks less
of one's own honor and more of the safety of the army. It is not your
own spear, your own sword, your own arm, which will turn the tide of
fight; but a cool head may save a stricken field. He who knows when his
horsemen should charge and when they should fight on foot, he who can
mix his archers with his men-at-arms in such a fashion that each can
support the other, he who can hold up his reserve and pour it into the
battle when it may turn the tide, he who has a quick eye for boggy land
and broken ground--that is the man who is of more worth to an army than
Roland, Oliver and all the paladins."

"Yet if his knights fail him, honored sir, all his head-work will not
prevail."

"True enough, Nigel; so may every Squire ride to the wars with his soul
on fire, as yours is now. But I must linger no longer, for the King's
service must be done. I will dress, and when I have bid farewell to the
noble Dame Ermyntrude I wil