“Holy St. Andrew, what sort of men dost thou look to meet with in Scotland, when thou dost bring sike armour as that?” cried Sang, as he entered, and pointed to an enormous suit of [[307]]plate armour that hung at one side of the farther wall of the place; “why that must be intended for a giant.”
“Ha, ha, ha, he! so dou dost vonder already, Signor Sang,” said the Italian; “I did look for dy vonder, but I did not tink so dat I voud see dee vonder for dat; I not tink but dou didst see dat in my store at Paris. I have had him verri long—ma no, I do remember dat ’tis not long since mine broder Giuseppe did bring him from our store at Milano. He and anoder I did sell yesterday morning vas make by mine broder Giuseppe, for de two ends of de store at Milano, for show. Dey look verri preet at de two ends of de appartamento dere, vere we did show de armour for sell. I never tink I sell von or oder, or dat I ever see von man dat mote be big enow to wear dem. But yesterday morning I have de good fortune to meet vid von Polypheme, who did come to me, vid von mout I fear he did eat me up. He did vant armour. Eh, morte, I do tink I did feet him ven none oder von man in Europe have done it but mineself. I make him pay vell; ma, ven you see armourers like de broders Martellini—Andria me, e Giuseppe, mine broder—de first armourers in the vorld?”
“True, true,” replied Sang, “ye are both mighty men-at-arms, and ye seem to know it as well, too; though, from what I know of ye both, ye do ken better how to make a sword than to use it. But come, we lose time. Hand me down that tilting helmet, that cuirass, and those vantbraces and cuisses. Let me see, I say, what thou hast got that may fit me for a turn or two in the lists. I must e’en try what I can do, an ’twere only to hack and destroy some steel-plate to win thy favour, and so screw up thy generosity, that I may earn a gratis suit from thee for my prowess one of these days.”
“Aha! Signor Sang, den must dou joost vid some knight dat vear de armour of dat donner Tedesche at de oder end of de leest,” cried Martellino, with a sarcastic air of triumph; “dat stupid Meenher Eisenfelsenbroken, dat do pretend to make de armour as good as me. Eh, he! quel bericuocolajo! dat do make his breastplate of de bread of de gingaire, his vork vill split more easy; ma, for dat sell by de Martellini, no, dou not break it so fast, caro Signor Sang.”
“Perdie, if I can but meet with that same Polypheme of whom thou didst talk, I will at least try the metal of thy brother Giuseppe’s plate.”
While the squire was in the act of fitting himself with what he wanted, a new customer came into the front shop or forge, where the armourer’s men were working strenuously, with [[308]]heavy and repeated strokes, at a piece of iron that glowed at that moment on the anvil. It was Rory Spears.
“Hear ye me, lads,” roared he; “will ye haud yer din till I speak?”
The hammers fell thicker and faster, for the men heard him not.
“Dinna ye hear me? Haud yer din. I tell ye, till I effunde three words. Na, the red fiend catch ye, then—devil ane o’ ye will stop. Haud yer din, I tell ye,” shouted Rory, at the very top of his voice; but if it had been like that of ten elephants united, it must have had as little effect as that of a weasel amidst such thunder. The furious grimaces and gesticulations that accompanied it were sufficiently visible, and the iron having now become cold, the men stopped of their own accord, and gave him an opportunity of being heard.
“Ay, by St. Lowry, I thought I should gar ye hear at length. Seest thou here, lad,” continued he, addressing one of the men in particular, and at the same time holding out to him the strange amphibious weapon he usually carried, “seest thou here, my man? my clip-gaud lacketh pointing; try what thou mayest do to sharpen it.”