“You have got to do one of two things—either make atonement for the blows I received at your hand, or else cross swords with me,” he issued his ultimatum, with a circling sweep of his arm towards the longer of the two silver-ornamented sheaths that were a part of his new attire.
Again the song-maker wavered between laughter and irritation, looking down at the manful swagger in which the small legs were spread apart.
“Be good enough to say what use you could be put to after I had crossed swords with you?” he inquired.
The boy pushed back his curls eagerly.
“I told Olaf that I believed you would not be slow in understanding honorable ways!” he cried. “It is not my meaning that we should really fight each other. Only that you shall draw your weapon and let me make some thrusts at you, and then you can make some passes at me—easy ones—and after that I will declare myself satisfied and—”
“So that is the kind of stuff your new master is filling your head with,” his foster-brother’s voice crossed his. “If I were not afraid of losing my temper with you, I would use the flat of my blade on your back in a way that would not increase your dignity, but rather—” Of a sudden, what patience he had deserted him; he flung out his arms in a gesture before which the small warrior scuttled involuntarily. “Trolls, am I to be plagued by a gnat when I am in the mood to attack giants? Keep away from me if you would not run the risk as to how it turns out.”
Pressing his fingers to his ears to shut out another burst of French-made eloquence, he strode on, and stopped only to save himself from stumbling over the youngster, who had again thrown himself in the way, dancing gnatlike.
“You have got to fight me,” he was shrieking. “I shall lose my credit with Olaf unless you do. I will cut your kirtle with my knife,—do you hear? I will cut off one of your buttons.”
Whether or not Rolf’s son heard the threats or the grating of the steel against the gold, he felt the sharp jerk at his sleeve, and exasperation rose in him. Before he well knew what he was about, he had reached out and seized the boy by a leg and an arm and swung him high in the air. Only that he realized what a toy the body was to his strength saved him from dashing it head foremost against the stones of the road-side wall, and recalled him to himself so that he tumbled it lightly on the grass instead.
“Well that it was no worse! Do you want to be killed that you try me so?” he cried under his breath, and turned to flee temptation before the blue-and-silver heap could right itself.