Scathlock obeyed his captain, and in less than five minutes the revellers were startled by the sound of his horn.

“It is the bugle of Malvoisin,” said the Miller, starting to his feet, and seizing his bow. The Friar dropped the flagon, and grasped his quarterstaff. Wamba stopped short in the midst of a jest, and betook himself to sword and target. All the others stood to their weapons.

Men of their precarious course of life change readily from the banquet to the battle; and, to Richard, the exchange seemed but a succession of pleasure. He called for his helmet and the most cumbrous parts of his armour, which he had laid aside; and while Gurth was putting them on, he laid his strict injunctions on Wilfred, under pain of his highest displeasure, not to engage in the skirmish which he supposed was approaching.

“Thou hast fought for me an hundred times, Wilfred⁠—and I have seen it. Thou shalt this day look on, and see how Richard will fight for his friend and liegeman.”