Now the Norman prided himself upon his prowess with the staff. He was also a span taller than the Saxon. The uncouth garments of the latter, also, made him appear as though much beyond the time of youth, and so disguised his stout limbs that the Norman could scarcely conceal his contempt for such an opponent. So he readily accepted the challenge, and at once the pair were toe to toe, and dealing blow or parry with right good will. The Saxon did not appear to very great advantage at the commencement of the fray. Frequently he received slight blows here and there, at which the Norman was visibly elated, and he led the attack with much vigour, and equal recklessness. The Saxon seemed to shrink from the onset, but there was a sly humour lurking about his wicked grey eye which was very ominous. Eventually taking a mild blow, without parrying, from his foe, the Saxon put a giant's strength into his arm, and like a thunderbolt his staff came down with a crash upon the Norman's skull, cutting open his head, and knocking him senseless on the ground.
"Poor fellow!" said Badger, for it was he. "You don't know how sorry I feel to have to give you a crack like this; but less would hardly do the business."
He quickly undid the Norman's doublet, and took from an inside pocket the sealed message from De Montfort. Then he deposited a similar one in its place. Next, he went down to the river and steeped a cloth in the water, then gently bathed the Norman's head, and staunched the bleeding, also carefully drawing the hair over it to hide the wound as much as possible. He next poured down his throat some of the Flemish wine he carried. The Norman slowly opened his eyes, and stared about him with a dazed, unmeaning look.
"All right, my gallant fellow," said Badger. "Here you are. Have another taste of my bottle."
The Norman took a good long pull, which seemed to revive him considerably. By degrees the whole scene came back to his stunned senses, and mechanically he put up his hand to his head, and felt the wound.
"You hound!" said he. "You've cracked my skull!"
"Not a bit of it, my hearty! Your skull is not so easy to crack. The skin is peeled a little, that is all, and a day or two will put it right again."
"I trow not, nor a week or two either. You villain! You meant to brain me, I do believe!"
"Not a bit of it, comrade. Why, if I meant you harm, what so easy whilst you have been lying here? The fact is, you beat me black and blue. My limbs will be sore for many a day after this. It was the first time I had touched you; and you were so eager to knock me out of it that you left your head unguarded. Why, man, you had the best of it up to the last stroke."
By touching up the Norman's vanity by such artful speeches, and by pouring good wine down his throat, the pair were speedily on good terms, and they parted the best of friends, Badger chuckling to his heart's content as he struck off on a short cut for the hills.