He held a bar of iron in his hand like the fastening of a window, and a little breath of heat told the smith's son that though black it was still warm from the fire.
"Take this iron," he said abruptly, "and bring it to me fully heated.
I am finishing a little device which his Excellency needs for the combat of the morrow." The captain of the guard was nettled at the man's tone.

Also he desired much to know what his master was doing on the floor above.
"Heat it at your own nose, fellow," he said rudely; "I am captain of the castle-guard, and must attend to my own business.

Take the spirit out of my hand if you do not want it thrown in your face." The swarthy, bullet-headed man glared at him with eyes like burning coals, but Sholto cared no jot for his anger.

Forthwith he turned his back upon him, glad at heart to have found some one to quarrel with, and hoping that the ambassador's squire might prove courageous and challenge him to fight on the morrow.
But the man only replied: "I am Henriet, servant of the marshal.

I bid you remember that I shall make you live to regret these words.".