Tiring of the fun, the armour was left lying where it had fallen, and remained there until Aymery and several of the esquires entered.
"He refuses, Aymery," Roland was saying as they entered. "He saith that the responsibility of looking after one esquire is enough for him, and that the others must seek other opportunity of winning their spurs--at the tourney, I think he meant."
"Didst press thy claims to accompany him?" enquired Aymery sourly.
"They need no pressing," responded Roland haughtily. "And 'tis not thy claims I fear."
Aymery was about to make an angry retort when he noticed the pieces of armour he so highly prized lying about the floor in all parts of the room.
"Who hath flung my armour here?" he cried, with a sudden burst of wrath. "I will trounce him finely--upon my sword, I swear it--whoever the varlet may be. Was't any of ye?" he ended fiercely, as he glared at the shamefaced pages.
The boys looked at one another uneasily, and then one more brazen than the rest replied coolly:
"Why dost not look after thy property, Aymery? Where didst leave it? Not with any of us, I'll warrant."
"Ah, I recollect! 'Twas with the armourer's boy I left it. Doubtless he still thinketh 'tis only Edgar's bidding he must do. It seemeth I must teach him another well-merited lesson. Bid him come to me at once, Maurice--be off with thee!"
The page sped off upon his errand, and the others waited, eyeing Aymery expectantly, for they felt that something more than the chastisement of an unruly youth was in the wind. At any moment Edgar Wintour might come in, for it was nigh upon his time, and none thought that he would see Aymery flog Peter without interfering. The angry esquire spent the minute or two which elapsed before the boy's arrival in examining the pieces of armour strewn about the floor, and the inspection apparently did nothing to improve his temper.