“Nay, but fair sir,” said the Prior, “I pray you to remember that Malkin hath as little skill in arms as her master, and that I warrant not her enduring the sight or weight of your full panoply. O, Malkin, I promise you, is a beast of judgment, and will contend against any undue weight⁠—I did but borrow the Fructus Temporum from the priest of Saint Bees, and I promise you she would not stir from the gate until I had exchanged the huge volume for my little breviary.”

“Trust me, holy father,” said Ivanhoe, “I will not distress her with too much weight; and if she calls a combat with me, it is odds but she has the worst.”

This reply was made while Gurth was buckling on the Knight’s heels a pair of large gilded spurs, capable of convincing any restive horse that his best safety lay in being conformable to the will of his rider.