Thereafter, at his command, I drank of the wine wherein our blood was mingled and he did the like.
"And now," says he, leaning back in his chair and viewing me with his pensive smile, "since we be brothers and comrades sworn, how d'ye like me now?"
"Better than I did," says I, speaking on impulse, "for sure you are the strangest picaroon that ever cheated the gallows."
"Ah," says he, pinching his chin, "an I am neither hanged nor murdered you shall one day find me a worshipful magistrate, Martin, Justice o' the Peace and quorum—custos rotulorum and the rest on't, there my ambition lies. As for you, Martin, Lord Wendover, there is your enemy, ha?—bloody vengeance and murder and what beside?"
"That is mine own concern!" I retorted angrily. "And look 'ee, since comrades we are, you will forget who and what I am!"
"Why so I have, Martin, so I have. Art a poor, destitute rogue that might be a man and rich but for this vengeful maggot i' thy brain. Howbeit thou'rt my comrade sworn and brother-in-arms and as such I shall trust thee—to the death, Martin."
"And shall find me worthy, Adam—despite thy curst tongue."
"Death is an ill thing, Martin!"
"Is it?" says I, and laughed.
"Aye," he nodded, "an ill thing to him that hath ambitions above the brute. See here!" Unbuttoning his doublet he showed me a shirt of fine chain-mail beneath his linen. "'Twill turn any point ever forged and stop a bullet handsomely, as I do know."