"Then you may bid farewell to your bed, soldier," said Hordle
John.
"Nay; I shall keep the bed, and I shall have you to France in
spite of your teeth, and you shall live to thank me for it. How
shall it be, then, mon enfant? Collar and elbow, or close-lock,
or catch how you can?"
"To the devil with your tricks," said John, opening and shutting
his great red hands. "Stand forth, and let me clip thee."
"Shalt clip me as best you can then," quoth the archer, moving
out into the open space, and keeping a most wary eye upon his
opponent. He had thrown off his green jerkin, and his chest was
covered only by a pink silk jupon, or undershirt, cut low in the
neck and sleeveless. Hordle John was stripped from his waist
upwards, and his huge body, with his great muscles swelling out
like the gnarled roots of an oak, towered high above the soldier.
The other, however, though near a foot shorter, was a man of
great strength; and there was a gloss upon his white skin which
was wanting in the heavier limbs of the renegade monk. He was
quick on his feet, too, and skilled at the game; so that it was
clear, from the poise of head and shine of eye, that he counted
the chances to be in his favor.
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