"Where would I have been without your sword or Ralph's bow?" replied the jongleur. "A trick is a trick, comrades; but behind it there must be courage and sharp steel. This hath been a fight worth remembering. How now, Ralph? Shall we set you ashore?"
Ralph grinned sheepishly.
"I cannot just say why it is, lords," he answered, "but the sickness in my belly hath left me and now I am a-hungered for food."
"A-hungered, quotha?" panted the blustering voice of Messer Nicholas, as he stepped on the poop. "You shall be satisfied, sir archer, for bravely have you shot. Ay, lords, it hath been a good fight, well-fought on all sides. Never have I seen better. There hath been goose-flesh on my chest ere this, but now——"
"Look you, an you would not have goose-flesh on every limb, do you bring hither the best your miserable larder affords," threatened Matteo. "A good fight, quotha!" he mimicked.
"Your hunger for bargaining with Saracens will make a brave tale in Rouen, Messer Shipman," gibed Hugh.
"Oh, fair sirs! I pray you, fair sirs! Prithee, do you——"
The comrades lay flat on the heaving deck, and roared their satisfaction at his discomfiture.