There is peace betwixt our nations, or my servants should chastise thy presumption." "Such peace as ye give such shall you have," answered the moss-trooper, first pointing with his lance towards the burned village, and then almost instantly levelling it against Lord Lacy.

The squire drew his sword, and severed at one blow the steel head from the truncheon of the spear.
"Arthur Fitzherbert," said the baron, "that stroke has deferred thy knighthood for one year; never must that squire wear the spurs whose unbridled impetuosity can draw unbidden his sword in the presence of his master.

Go hence, and think on what I have said." The squire left the chamber abashed.
"It were vain," continued Lord Lacy, "to expect that courtesy from a mountain churl which even my own followers can forget.

Yet before thou drawest thy brand," for the intruder laid his hand upon the hilt of his sword, "thou wilt do well to reflect that I came with a safe-conduct from thy king, and have no time to waste in brawls with such as thou." "From my king,--from my king!" re-echoed the mountaineer.

"I care not that rotten truncheon," striking the shattered spear furiously on the ground, "for the king of Fife and Lothian.