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Morris, William, 1834-1896

"The Well at the World's End: a tale"

"
"Art thou afraid, youngling?" said the sergeant, who was
old and crabbed, "if that be so, go and tell the Lord:
but thou wilt find that he will not have his sport wholly spoiled,
but will somehow make a bolt or a shaft out of thee."
Said Ralph: "I did but jest; I deem myself not so near my
death to-day as I have been twice this summer or oftener."
Said the sergeant, "It is ill jesting in matters wherein
my Lord hath to do. Now thou hast heard my word:
do after it."
Therewith he departed, and Ralph laughed and shook the spear aloft,
and deemed it not over strong; but he said to himself that the spears
of the others would be much the same.
Now the horn blew up thrice, and at the latest blast Ralph pricked forth,
as one well used to the tilt, but held his horse well in hand;
and he saw a man come driving against him with his spear in the rest,
and deemed him right big; but this withal he saw, that the man
was ill arrayed, and was pulling on his horse as one not willing
to trust him to the rush; and indeed he came on so ill that it
was clear that he would never strike Ralph's shield fairly.
So he swerved as they met, so that his spear-point was never near
to Ralph, who turned his horse toward him a little, and caught his
foeman by the gear about his neck, and spurred on, so that he dragged
him clean out of his saddle, and let him drop, and rode back
quietly to his place, and got off his horse to see to his girths;
and he heard great laughter rising up from the ring of men,
and from the women also.


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