Sir Piercie Shafton's colour began to rise—“I marvel,” he said, “to hear your reverence talk thus—What! will you, for the imagined death of a rude, low-born frampler and wrangler, venture to impinge upon the liberty of the kinsman of the house of Piercie?”
“Sir Knight,” returned the Sub-Prior, civilly, “your high lineage and your kindling anger will avail you nothing in this matter—You shall not come here to seek a shelter, and then spill our blood as if it were water.”
“I tell you,” said the knight, “once more, as I have told you already, that there was no blood spilled but mine own!”
“That remains to be proved,” replied the Sub-Prior; “we of the community of Saint Mary's of Kennaquhair, use not to take fairy tales in exchange for the lives of our liege vassals.”
“We of the house of Piercie,” answered Shafton, “brook neither threats nor restraint—I say I will travel to-morrow, happen what may!”
“And I,” answered the Sub-Prior, in the same tone of determination, “say that I will break your journey, come what may!”
“Who shall gainsay me,” said the knight, “if I make my way by force?”
“You will judge wisely to think ere you make such an attempt,” answered the monk, with composure; “there are men enough in the Halidome to vindicate its rights over those who dare infringe them.”
“My cousin of Northumberland will know how to revenge this usage to a beloved kinsman so near to his blood,” said the Englishman.
“The Lord Abbot will know how to protect the rights of his territory, both with, the temporal and spiritual sword,” said the monk. “Besides, consider, were we to send you to your kinsman at Alnwick or Warkworth to-morrow, he dare do nothing but transmit you in fetters to the Queen of England. Bethink, Sir Knight, that you stand on slippery ground, and will act most wisely in reconciling yourself to be a prisoner in this place until the Abbot shall decide the matter. There are armed men enow to countervail all your efforts at escape. Let patience and resignation, therefore, arm you to a necessary submission.”