“Will he do battle with him should they meet?”
“As surely,” answered Christie, “as ever cock fought on Shrovetide-even.”
“And would he fight with Foster in the Church's quarrel?”
“On any quarrel, or upon no quarrel whatever,” replied the jackman.
“We will then write to him, letting him know, that if upon occasion of an apprehended incursion by Sir John Foster, he will join his force with ours, he shall lead our men, and be gratified for doing so to the extent of his wish.—Yet one word more—Thou didst say thou couldst find out where the English knight Piercie Shafton has this day fled to?”
“That I can, and bring him back too, by fair means or force, as best likes your reverence.”
“No force must be used upon him. Within what time wilt thou find him out?”
“Within thirty hours, so he have not crossed the Lothian firth—If it is to do you a pleasure, I will set off directly, and wind him as a sleuth-dog tracks the moss-trooper,” answered Christie.
“Bring him hither then, and thou wilt deserve good at our hands, which I may soon have free means of bestowing on thee.”
“Thanks to your reverence, I put myself in your reverence's hands. We of the spear and snaffle walk something recklessly through life; but if a man were worse than he is, your reverence knows he must live, and that's not to be done without shifting, I trow.”