uke yourself."

"Or a cardinal," cried Mark. "I should not be the first of my brethren
who has met with such preferment."

"He derides the Church in the person of Cardinal Wolsey!" cried the
duke. "He is a blasphemer as well as traitor."

"Drink the king's health in a full cup, Mark," interposed the host,
anxious to set matters aright, "and keep your mischievous tongue between
your teeth."

"Beshrew me if I drink the king's health, or that of his minion, Anne
Boleyn!" cried Mark boldly. "But I will tell you what I will drink.
I will drink the health of King Henry's lawful consort, Catherine
of Arragon; and I will add to it a wish that the Pope may forge her
marriage chains to her royal husband faster than ever."

"A foolish wish," cried Bryan. "Why, Mark, you are clean crazed!"

"It is the king who is crazed, not me!" cried Mark. "He would sacrifice
his rightful consort to his unlawful passion; and you, base hirelings,
support the tyrant in his wrongful conduct!"

"Saints protect us!" exclaimed Bryan. "Why, this is flat treason. Mark,
I can no longer uphold you."

"Not if you do not desire to share his prison, mine host," cried the
Duke of Shoreditch. "You have all heard him call the king a tyrant.
Seize him, my masters!"

"Let them lay hands upon me if they dare!" cried the butcher resolutely.
"I have felled an ox with a blow of my fist before this, and I promise
you I will show them no better treatment."

Awed by Mark's determined manner, the bystanders kept aloof.

"I command you, in the king's name, to seize him!" roared Shoreditch.
"If he offers resistance he will assuredly be hanged."

"No one shall touch me!" cried Mark fiercely.

"That remains to be seen," said the foremost of the Earl of Surrey's
attendants. "Yield, fellow!"

"Never!" replied Mark; "and I warn you to keep off."

The attendant, however, advanced; but before he could lay hands on the
butcher he received a blow from his ox-like fist that sent him reeling
backwards for several paces, and finally stretched him at full length
upon the ground. His companions drew their swords, and would have
instantly fallen upon the sturdy offender, if Morgan Fenwolf, who, with
the Earl of Surrey, was standing among the spectators, had not rushed
forward, and, closing with Mark before the latter could strike a blow,
grappled with him, and held him fast till he was secured, and his arms
tied behind him.

"And so it is you, Morgan Fenwolf, who have