"Take ye back the swords that you have used so well."Next, he drew his own silver-hilted blade that had been his father's and his grandfather's, and whilst they knelt before him, smote each of them three blows upon the right shoulder, crying with a loud voice: "In the name of God, St.Michael, and St.George, I knight ye.Be ye good knights."Thereafter came forward Rosamund as their nearest kinswoman, and, helped by other ladies, clad upon them their hauberks, or coats of mail, their helms of steel, and their kite-shaped shields, emblazoned with a skull, the cognizance of their race.This done, with the musicians marching before them, they walked to Steeple church--a distance of two hundred paces from the Hall, where they laid their swords upon the altar and took them up again, swearing to be good servants of Christ and defenders of the Church.As they left its doors, who should meet them but the cook, carrying his chopper in his hand and claiming as his fee the value of the spurs they wore, crying aloud at the same time:
"If either of you young knights should do aught in despite of your honour and of the oaths that you have sworn--from which may God and his saints prevent you!--then with my chopper will I hack these spurs from off your heels."Thus at last the long ceremony was ended, and after it came a very great feast, for at the high table were entertained many noble knights and ladies, and below, in the hall their squires, and other gentlemen, and outside all the yeomanry and villagers, whilst the children and the aged had food and drink given to them in the nave of the church itself.When the eating at length was done, the centre of the hall was cleared, and while men drank, the minstrels made music.All were very merry with wine and strong ale, and talk arose among them as to which of these brethren--Sir Godwin or Sir Wulf--was the more brave, the more handsome, and the more learned and courteous.
Now a knight--it was Sir Surin de Salcote--seeing that the argument grew hot and might lead to blows, rose and declared that this should be decided by beauty alone, and that none could be more fitted to judge than the fair lady whom the two of them had saved from woman-thieves at the Death Creek quay.They all called, "Ay, let her settle it," and it was agreed that she would give the kerchief from her neck to the bravest, a beaker of wine to the handsomest, and a Book of Hours to the most learned.
So, seeing no help for it, since except her father, the brethren, the most of the other ladies and herself, who drank but water, gentle and simple alike, had begun to grow heated with wine, and were very urgent, Rosamund took the silk kerchief from her neck.Then coming to the edge of the dais, where they were seated in the sight of all, she stood before her cousins, not knowing, poor maid, to which of them she should offer it.But Godwin whispered a word to Wulf, and both of them stretching out their right hands, snatched an end of the kerchief which she held towards them, and rending it, twisted the severed halves round their sword hilts.The company laughed at their wit, and cried:
"The wine for the more handsome.They cannot serve that thus."Rosamund thought a moment; then she lifted a great silver beaker, the largest on the board, and having filled it full of wine, once more came forward and held it before them as though pondering.Thereon the brethren, as though by a single movement, bent forward and each of them touched the beaker with his lips.
Again a great laugh went up, and even Rosamund smiled.
"The book! the book!" cried the guests."They dare not rend the holy book!"So for the third time Rosamund advanced, bearing the missal.
"Knights," she said,"you have torn my kerchief and drunk my wine.
Now I offer this hallowed writing--to him who can read it best.""Give it to Godwin," said Wulf."I am a swordsman, not a clerk.""Well said! well said!" roared the company."The sword for us--not the pen!" But Rosamund turned on them and answered:
"He who wields sword is brave, and he who wields pen is wise, but better is he who can handle both sword and pen--like my cousin Godwin, the brave and learned.""Hear her! hear her!" cried the revellers, knocking their horns upon the board, while in the silence that followed a woman's voice said, "Sir Godwin's luck is great, but give me Sir Wulf's strong arms."Then the drinking began again, and Rosamund and the ladies slipped away, as well they might--for the times were rough and coarse.
On the morrow, after most of the guests were gone, many of them with aching heads, Godwin and Wulf sought their uncle, Sir Andrew, in the solar where he sat alone, for they knew Rosamund had walked to the church hard by with two of the serving women to make it ready for the Friday's mass, after the feast of the peasants that had been held in the nave.Coming to his oaken chair by the open hearth which had a chimney to it--no common thing in those days--they knelt before him.
"What is it now, my nephews?" asked the old man, smiling."Do you wish that I should knight you afresh?""No, sir," answered Godwin;"we seek a greater boon.""Then you seek in vain, for there is none.""Another sort of boon," broke in Wulf.
Sir Andrew pulled his beard, and looked at them.Perhaps the Prior John had spoken a word to him, and he guessed what was coming.
