Often had we heard since then of the dire threats that he breathed against the House of Mountjoy and all its people; but the King himself had declared our quarrel just and affirmed our rights to the lands of Mountjoy; and we gave little heed to the mouthings of one who had yet his spurs to win and his name to make ’mongst fighting men. But now the thought came over me of a sudden that I was but half a league from Teramore Castle, mounted on a gentle palfrey and with no weapon save the good sword at my side. If the threats of Lionel of Carleton were aught but empty air, he would scarce let slip such an opportunity.
These thoughts were but too well founded. Carleton was gazing fiercely at me as he came forward; and as his horse came opposite, pulled him up with a wrench on the bridle rein so violent that the mettlesome steed all but cast himself on his haunches.
“Ha! Well met, young Dickon of Mountjoy!” he snarled. “By my troth, my good fairy must have guided my bridle to-day to give me this chance to say my say to this young whelp of a race of dogs! Now shalt thou learn what it is to have the Carleton for an enemy.”
Carleton was taller and longer-limbed than I. He wore a stout broadsword and, stuck in his belt on the other side, a poniard of most wicked design. He had the better of me in respect to four years and more of practice of arms; and I knew full well that, were their quarrels right or wrong, the Carletons were no weaklings. But already I smarted with the affront given me by the poaching varlet; and now this insult to the honorable name of Mountjoy was not to be borne. I threw his words back in his teeth.
“Thou Wolf-pup from a race of thieves unhung!” I shouted. “Get thee down from yon tall war-horse, and draw that sword if thou darest. Thou’lt make good thy mighty words or verily thou shalt eat them here and now.”
So saying I swung to the ground and drew my weapon. Carleton lost no time in doing likewise, and came at me with a fury which I had scarce expected. I met his thrust with the parry which my father had well taught me years agone; and had my enemy not sprung aside with the quickness of a cat, my sword in return had pierced his neck.
“Ha!” growled Carleton between his gritting teeth, “so the Mountjoy whelp hath already a trick or two of fence. ’Twill make the game the more worth the playing. Hast stomach for cold steel? Look now!”
He danced about me, thrusting and slashing wickedly with his heavy sword, and displayed not ill the training he had had in the halls of Cumberland. But since the day I could raise a foil, it had been my dearest plaything; and whenever my father had been at home, he had made my teaching his special care. Since his return from Scotland there had been scarce a day when we had not spent a brace of hours with the foils or with broadswords and bucklers. Some men are born for sword-play, as others, like Old Marvin, for the cross-bow; but Lionel of Carleton was not of these. A minute had not passed, as we circled and danced about one another, with our weapons striking fire in the shadow of the wood, before I knew that Carleton, with all his added years and training, was no more than a match for me, if indeed as much. He panted and cursed as each trick of thrust was met by its proper parry, and slipped most dangerously on the oak leaves underfoot as I stepped aside from his bull-like rushes. Presently my sword nicked him fairly on the arm, drawing a spurt of blood and a stream of oaths. He lunged wildly forward. I parried his thrust and drove my sword straight at his breast bone.
THE FORCE OF MY BLOW DROVE HIM BACKWARD, BUT MY WEAPON PIERCED HIM NOT