The boy struggled to get away like a hydra in furious silence. But Urson held. "You stick around ... Owww!... to get yourself thrashed.... There." The boy got turned, his back to the giant; one arm locked across his neck, and the other hand, holding all four wrists, lifted up hard enough so that the body shook like wires jerked taut, but he was still silent.
Now the woman came across the dock. "This belongs to you, gentlemen?" she asked, extending the purse.
"Thank you, ma'am," grunted Urson, reaching forward.
"I'll take it, ma'am," said Geo, intercepting. Then he recited:
"Shadows melt in light of sacred laughter.
Hands and houses shall be one hereafter.
"Many thanks," he added.
Beneath the veil, on her shadowed face, her eyebrows raised. "You have been schooled in courtly rites?" She observed him. "Are you perhaps a student at the university?"
Geo smiled. "I was, until a short time ago. But funds are low and I have to get through the summer somehow. I'm going to sea."
"Honorable, but perhaps foolish."
"I am a poet, ma'am; they say poets are fools. Besides, my friend here says the sea will make a man of me. To be a good poet, one must be a good man."