Her eyes lit up as she looked him over, and she held her head proudly.
“I have no spear to give you, though I doubt not that you will make a better beginning with the sword—if needs be. Try the joints, Martin.”
He walked up and down before her, raised his arms, spread them wide, folded them over his chest. He seemed made for such heavy harness; the strong, sweeping movements of his limbs were not crabbed or clogged by it.
“The thing is like an iron skin.”
“Ah! it was made by a fine armorer. The joints are perfect. And the weight of it?”
“I’ll swear I could run or leap.”
“You are fresh as yet. A man must wear such harness for a day to learn where it irks him. And so I am thinking that I will leave you to master it. There is work for me in the Forest.”
He unhelmed himself, and his blue eyes looked at her questioningly.
“What! You are venturing abroad?”
“Yes; I shall take the horse, and your wallet full of food.”