At the mention of our titles the officers quieted down, and whispered together, then the older one bowed stiffly to me and said, "My friend accepts your friend's challenge. Follow us if you please."
They stalked out. Al and I followed. We turned into a side street, and finally came into a quiet square with a watering trough in the centre.
"We will not be interrupted here," said the older officer.
"Fine," Al replied, peeling off his coat, while the soup spiller did the same.
"Here is a sword," said the older officer handing Al his.
"What's that for?" Al asked.
"To fight with," the officer replied.
"I fight with my fists," Al shouted.
"Fighting with the fists is verboten," the officer replied.