"Offerest thou me gold?" replied the soldier with a gruff laugh. "I'll wager I have enough gold sewn up in my doublet to buy thee thrice over."
"Then take care lest I slit thy doublet and thy hide as well," replied Geoffrey, standing on his guard. "'Tis ill that Englishmen should shed each other's blood, yet I have sworn to protect this man, and before Heaven I'll not go back from my word."
"Fall on, comrades," shouted the archer. "We'll see whether this young cockerel can scratch as well as crow."
"Draw, Oswald; I command thee!" exclaimed Geoffrey, and wondering at his companion's tone, Oswald, sword in hand, took his place at his side.
"We are but wasting time," expostulated one of the archers. "The squire is right: why should we fight Englishmen? Are we not exceeding our orders?"
"What! Art afraid of two lads?" replied his fellow. "Come on, I say, and let's settle this business."
"Do it thyself. For my part I'll pass by. The King can be told of this opposition anon."
"Go, chicken-heart! What will thy friends and kinsfolk at Ely say when they hear that thou hast shown the white feather to two beardless squires? Now, look to thyself, squire."
As the archer with two of his comrades was on the point of closing, a cry went up "In the King's name, the slaughter of the prisoners must cease!" The order was repeated in all parts of the field, and in a very short space of time the work of massacre had ceased, the archers being, for the most part, glad to cease their unprofitable and hateful task.
"'Tis well for thee, squire," growled Geoffrey's antagonist, smartly thrusting his sword back into its scabbard and turning on his heel. "But, mark ye, the King shall hear of this."