"In that alone; otherwise I am poor enough, God wot."
"Thy father left thee——"
"His sword, his arms, and motto—nothing more. The first is here at my side—the second, I know by heart, having nought else whereon to grave them—gules, six annulets or."
"Tush! thou wilt build thee a castle some day, and put the crest above the gate."
"A swan'shead winged, rising from a ducal coronet—ha! ha! my father was a soldier, and poor, as we soldiers always are."
"'Tis a madcap adventure, this, I know right well," said the earl; "but I have armed me (sans leave) with your best corslet; and as I have a strong affection for my poor head (which is, in fact, of no use to any one save myself), they shall never possess it if my hands can keep it. If I am beset to-night—fiends! I would mow them all down with this long blade, like death with his scythe."
"St. Mary! use it warily," said Roland, laughing; "thou wilt punch a hole in the roof else."
"Thou lovest this King James well?"
"Love him—yes. I am ready to be cut in pieces for him to-morrow."
"Still thou art poor!"