“I always add my hollo,” said the yeoman, “when I see a good shot, or a gallant blow.”
“Sayst thou?” answered the Prince; “then thou canst hit the white thyself, I’ll warrant.”
“A woodsman’s mark, and at woodsman’s distance, I can hit,” answered the yeoman.
“And Wat Tyrrel’s mark, at a hundred yards,” said a voice from behind, but by whom uttered could not be discerned.
This allusion to the fate of William Rufus, his Relative, at once incensed and alarmed Prince John. He satisfied himself, however, with commanding the men-at-arms, who surrounded the lists, to keep an eye on the braggart, pointing to the yeoman.
“By St. Grizzel,” he added, “we will try his own skill, who is so ready to give his voice to the feats of others!”
“I shall not fly the trial,” said the yeoman, with the composure which marked his whole deportment.
“Meanwhile, stand up, ye Saxon churls,” said the fiery Prince; “for, by the light of Heaven, since I have said it, the Jew shall have his seat amongst ye!”
“By no means, an it please your Grace!—it is not fit for such as we to sit with the rulers of the land,” said the Jew; whose ambition for precedence though it had led him to dispute Place with the extenuated and impoverished descendant of the line of Montdidier, by no means stimulated him to an intrusion upon the privileges of the wealthy Saxons.
“Up, infidel dog when I command you,” said Prince John, “or I will have thy swarthy hide stript off, and tanned for horse-furniture.”