Then he turned wearily down the long street of the noisy village to look for his night's lodging, but he found every inn and tavern crowded, and everywhere horses in the stables were being shod and young fellows were busy burnishing their master's armor.
"What does all this hubbub mean?" asked Geraint of one of these youths.
The lad did not stop his work one instant, but went on scouring and replied, "It's the sparrow-hawk."
As Prince Geraint did not know what was meant by the sparrow-hawk he trotted a little farther along the street until he came to a quiet old man trudging by with a sack of corn on his back.
"Why is your town so noisy and busy to-night, good old fellow?" he cried.
"Ugh! the sparrow-hawk!" the old fellow said gruffly.
So the prince rode his horse yet a little farther until he saw an armor-maker's shop. The armor-maker sat inside with his back turned, all doubled over a helmet which he was riveting together upon his knee.
"Armorer," cried Geraint, "what is going on? Why is there such a din?"
The man did not pause in his riveting even to turn about and face the stranger, but said quickly as if to finish speaking as rapidly as he could, "Friend, the people who are working for the sparrow-hawk have no time for idle questions."
At this Geraint flashed up angrily.