The only answer was a swinging blow that just missed his forehead.
De Lacy frowned, and his patience began to ebb. For the first time he assumed the offensive. Pressing Selim close, he feinted quickly twice, and catching the other off guard he brought his sword down on the stranger's with a crash. There was a flash of sparks, a sharp ring of metal on stones, and of the weapon naught was left but a silver hilt.
"Yield," said Aymer sternly, presenting his point at the man's throat. "It is your last chance."
"I yield," said the other, hurling the bladeless hilt to the ground. "And may the Devil get the rogue that forged this weapon! And now, fair Knight,—for I see that your spurs are golden,—I will avow my destination to be London, and I presume I am at liberty to proceed."
"Nay, I shall have to ask you to bear me company back to Northampton," said De Lacy kindly.
"How so! Am I a prisoner?"
"Only until daybreak."
"It is most unusual—but, so be it." Then he turned to his companion. "Farewell, James," he said, "my misfortune need not affect you. I will join you in London."
De Lacy shook his head. "He came with you, and with you he bides. Giles, see to him."
"Truly, this is a strange proceeding on the King's highway, and with His Majesty but a few miles distant," the other exclaimed with increasing heat.