"It must be he they call the Red Smith," said Damarel idly.
"He looks a rough, silent creature," remarked Amelys. And Clarimond added in loud and insolent tones, "He knows little enough of kissings, I would wager this clasp."
"It's one I've a fancy for," said young Queen Maudlin. "Red Smith!" called she.
Harding turned at the sweet sound of her voice, and came and stood beside her among the group of girls and knights.
"Have you come from my castle?" said she, smiling up at him with her dawn-blue eyes.
"Ay," he answered.
"What drew you there, big man? My serving-wench?"
The Red Smith stared down at her light alluring loveliness. "Serving-wenches do not draw me."
"What metal then? Gold?" Maudlin tossed him a yellow disc from her purse. He let it fall and lie.
"No, nor gold." His eyes traveled over her gleaming locks. "The things you name are too cheap," said he.