Above the keep floated the standard of England, and from the main tower the banner of the Captain of the Wight flung its blazon in the breeze.
CHAPTER X.
HOW THE COCKEREL VAUNTED HIMSELF.
"Let the varlets tilt according to size, Master Tom," said Sir John Trenchard. "Master Bowerman, do you and Master Newenhall begin: close your visors."
This was bad news for Willie. As he turned his horse's head to take up his place, that disconsolate youth murmured through the bars of his closed visor,--
"Bowerman, I say, there's little need to tilt in earnest. I won't hit you hard, if you'll only rap on my breastpiece lightly."
But Bowerman only laughed. He was delighted to have so easy an adversary.
"Marry, 'Pig's Eyes,'" he replied, "do thy best, there's the Captain looking on."
With a deep sigh of woe-begone anticipation, poor Willie, whose bones still ached from his last fall, wheeled his horse round at the word of command, and sat facing Bowerman.
"At the word 'Ready,'" said Tom o' Kingston, in a dry, monotonous voice, "you will lay your spears in rest, holding the point on a level with your own eye, and the hand pressed well into the side, keeping the guard well up to the rest. At the word 'Go,' you will clap spurs to your horses, and ride straight for each other."