Drink to a proud lady within my arms and an enemy in my power!”

The wine that had made him mad had maddened those others, also. In that hour they were dead to honor. With shameless laughter and as little spilling as might be, they raised their tankards as my lord raised his. A stone thrown by some one behind me struck the cup from my lord’s hand, sending it clattering to the floor and dashing him with the red wine. Master Pory roared with drunken laughter. “Cup and lip missed that time!” he cried.

The man who had thrown the stone was Jeremy Sparrow. For one instant I saw his great figure, and the wrathful face beneath his shock of grizzled hair; the next he had made his way through the crowd of gaping menials and was gone.