There is naught to be gained from a travelling monk." "Naught, good friend, save occasionally hard blows, when the monk happens to be of my strength and stature, and carries a staff like this." "'Tis a goodly weapon, in sooth, and you look as if you knew how to wield it." "Even a monk may know that, seeing that a staff is not a carnal weapon." And rolling up his sleeves, Roger took the staff in the middle with both hands, in the manner of a quarterstaff, and made it play round his head; with a speed, and vigour, that showed that he was a complete master of the exercise.
"Enough, enough!" the man said, while exclamations of admiration broke from the others.

"Truly from such a champion, strong enough to wield a weapon that resembles a weaver's beam, rather than a quarterstaff, there would be more hard knocks than silver to be gained; but it is all the more pity that such skill and strength should be thrown away, in a convent.

Perhaps it is as well that you are wearing a monk's gown, for methinks that, eight to one as we are, some of us might have got broken heads, before we gained the few pence in your pocket.
"Come on, men.

Better luck next time.

It is clear that this man is not the one we are charged to capture." And, with his followers, he rode off across the moor.
"I do not think that they are what they seem," Oswald said, as they resumed their journey.