"How will you seek it, De Margan?" asked another. "With a bodkin?"
"Nay, nay, let him alone," said the third, "he is a man of spirit, and will dare this proud knight to the field."
"Who will crack him there," rejoined the second speaker, "as the King cracks a crawfish!"
"How is that?" inquired the first.
"Between his finger and thumb," replied the other.
"This is all nonsense," joined in one who had not yet spoken. "Monthermer is a prisoner and cannot underlie a defiance."
"De Margan will do better than defy him," said the fifth personage. "He knows that there are shrewder means of revenge in his power than that. Tell them, De Margan--tell them! and we will all go in with you and bear it out!"
"Ay!" cried Sir Guy de Margan, "those two fair lovers would, I rather fancy, give each a finger of their right hand rather than have the Earl of Ashby know their secret moonlight meeting in the cloister. Neither would the good Earl much like to have the tale told of his fair daughter showering such favours on this good Lord Hugh; and Alured de Ashby, I have heard, hates these Monthermers worse than a cat hates oil."
"A goodly mess of venom if you stir it properly!" observed one of his companions.
"That will I do most certainly," said the first. "I wait but the opening of the King's doors to tell the noble Earl before the whole court that his daughter was somewhat less niggardly of her presence last night to Hugh de Monthermer than he dreamt of. Then, you see, the old lord will chafe, the King will frown, and Alured de Ashby will be sent for----"