"Not thine, Richard the Scrob. I am Turstin of Wigmore's man for Ashford, and I may not go with it to any other lord;[ [15] and Turstin is wishful to uphold his right. As for thy mill … well, thou hast made it, and there will be the tolls for me."
"If there be any flaw in our dealings, then is it matter for the moot."
"Now, understand me, thou!" shouted Ulwin, with a pompous gesture of the arms and an outward thrust of his swollen underlip. "That which thou hast tricked of me I will have again, yea, this day and this hour! Ulwin of the Moor is unwonted to waiting!"
"Then, Ulwin, understand thou that Richard of Overton is unwonted to brook such words from any. At the bidding of none do I yield up mine own."
Scarcely had Richard proclaimed his defiance than a thrill such as some much-desired presence imparts forced him to glance past the wrathful bully's left shoulder. The widow Alftrude was now close behind her brother-in-law, and studied the Scrob from head to foot with wide, wondering blue eyes.
"I have nowise tricked you, Ednoth's son," said he, his countenance once more unperturbed. "Ye did chaffer with me for silver. This is matter for the hundredmen. They shall hear and try it."
"Hearken, good neighbours, to the high and mighty words!" Ulwin jeered. "How will he speed when Englishmen are met together? Does he dream that their dooms are for the French?"
"Come from here, now, master!" cried the high-pitched voice of Richard's servant Howel, in which agitation was patent. Ednoth, Ulwin's brother, pushed past Howel and jostled him roughly, in order to draw nearer to the two disputants. Howel flung up his head, his eyes kindling, and hissed an imprecation under his breath.
"Hey? what hast thou there?" said Ulwin.
"Nought, nought," Ednoth answered. "It is but a Welshman who bars my way."