He bit his lip, but could not hide the twinkle in his eye.

“You are cocksure,” he said. “Curiously enough, so is my lord. There are no further formalities to adjust, I believe? To-morrow at sunrise, behind the church, and with rapiers?”

“Precisely.”

He slapped his blade back into its sheath. “Then that’s over and done with, for the nonce at least! Sufficient unto the day, etcetera. ‘S life! I’m hot and dry! You’ve sacked cities, Ralph Percy; now sack me the minister’s closet and bring out his sherris I’ll be at charges for the next communion.”

We sat us down upon the doorstep with a tankard of sack between us, and Master Pory drank, and drank, and drank again.