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On the other side, with his knotted hand upon the
young man's shoulder, came a stout and burly archer, brown and
fierce eyed, with sword at belt and long yellow yew-stave
peeping over his shoulder. Hard face, battered head piece,
dinted brigandine, with faded red lion of St. George ramping on a
discolored ground, all proclaimed as plainly as words that he was
indeed from the land of war. He looked keenly at Sir Nigel as he
approached, and then, plunging his hand under his breastplate, he
stepped up to him with a rough, uncouth bow to the lady.
"Your pardon, fair sir," said he, "but I know you the moment I
clap eyes on you, though in sooth I have seen you oftener in
steel than in velvet. I have drawn string besides you at La
Roche-d'Errien, Romorantin, Maupertuis, Nogent, Auray, and other
places."
"Then, good archer, I am right glad to welcome you to Twynham
Castle, and in the steward's room you will find provant for
yourself and comrades. To me also your face is known, though
mine eyes play such tricks with me that I can scarce be sure of
my own squire.


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