Tranter, cunning and wary from years of fighting, knew that his chance had come.
He brushed aside the frail weapon which was opposed to him, whirled up his great blade, sprang back to get the fairer sweep--and vanished into the waters of the Garonne.
So intent had the squires, both combatants and spectators, been on the matter in hand, that all thought of the steep bank and swift still stream had gone from their minds.
It was not until Tranter, giving back before the other's fiery rush, was upon the very brink, that a general cry warned him of his danger.
That last spring, which he hoped would have brought the fight to a bloody end, carried him clear of the edge, and he found himself in an instant eight feet deep in the ice-cold stream.
Once and twice his gasping face and clutching fingers broke up through the still green water, sweeping outwards in the swirl of the current.
In vain were sword-sheaths, apple-branches and belts linked together thrown out to him by his companions.
Alleyne had dropped his shattered sword and was standing, trembling in every limb, with his rage all changed in an instant to pity.
For the third time the drowning man came to the surface, his hands full of green slimy water-plants, his eyes turned in despair to the shore.
Their glance fell upon Alleyne, and he could not withstand the mute appeal which he read in them.
In an instant he, too, was in the Garonne, striking out with powerful strokes for his late foeman,
Yet the current was swift and strong, and, good swimmer as he was, it was no easy task which Alleyne had set himself.
To clutch at Tranter and to seize him by the hair was the work of a few seconds, but to hold his head above water and to make their way out of the current was another matter.
For a hundred strokes he did not seem to gain an inch.
Then at last, amid a shout of joy and praise from the bank, they slowly drew clear into more stagnant water, at the instant that a rope, made of a dozen sword-belts linked together by the buckles, was thrown by Ford into their very hands.
Three pulls from eager arms, and the two combatants, dripping and pale, were dragged up the bank, and lay panting upon the grass.
John Tranter was the first to come to himself, for although he had been longer in the water, he had done nothing during that fierce battle with the current.
He staggered to his feet and looked down upon his rescuer, who had raised himself upon his elbow, and was smiling faintly at the buzz of congratulation and of praise which broke from the squires around him.
"I am much beholden to you, sir," said Tranter, though in no very friendly voice.
"Certes, I should have been in the river now but for you, for I was born in Warwickshire, which is but a dry county, and there are few who swim in those parts."
"I ask no thanks," Alleyne answered shortly.
"Give me your hand to rise, Ford."
"The river has been my enemy," said Tranter, "but it hath been a good friend to you, for it has saved your life this day."
"That is as it may be," returned Alleyne.
"But all is now well over," quoth Harcomb, "and no scath come of it, which is more than I had at one time hoped for.
Our young friend here hath very fairly and honestly earned his right to be craftsman of the Honorable Guild of the Squires of Bordeaux.
Here is your doublet, Tranter."
"Alas for my poor sword which lies at the bottom of the Garonne!" said the squire.
"Here is your pourpoint, Edricson," cried Norbury.
"Throw it over your shoulders, that you may have at least one dry garment."
"And now away back to the abbey!" said several.
"One moment, sirs," cried Alleyne, who was leaning on Ford's shoulder, with the broken sword, which he had picked up, still clutched in his right hand.
"My ears may be somewhat dulled by the water, and perchance what has been said has escaped me, but I have not yet heard this gentleman crave pardon for the insults which he put upon me in the hall."
"What! do you still pursue the quarrel?" asked Trenter.
"And why not, sir?
I am slow to take up such things, but once afoot I shall follow it while I have life or breath."
"Ma foi! you have not too much of either, for you are as white as marble," said Harcomb bluntly.
"Take my rede, sir, and let it drop, for you have come very well out from it."
"Nay," said Alleyne, "this quarrel is none of my making; but, now that I am here, I swear to you that I shall never leave this spot until I have that which I have come for: so ask my pardon, sir, or choose another glaive and to it again."
The young squire was deadly white from his exertions, both on the land and in the water.
Soaking and stained, with a smear of blood on his white shoulder and another on his brow, there was still in his whole pose and set of face the trace of an inflexible resolution.
His opponent's duller and more material mind quailed before the fire and intensity of a higher spiritual nature.
"I had not thought that you had taken it so amiss," said he awkwardly.
"It was but such a jest as we play upon each other, and, if you must have it so, I am sorry for it."
"Then I am sorry too," quoth Alleyne warmly, "and here is my hand upon it."
"And the none-meat horn has blown three times," quoth Harcomb, as they all streamed in chattering groups from the ground.
"I know not what the prince's maitre-de-cuisine will say or think.
By my troth! master Ford, your friend here is in need of a cup of wine, for he hath drunk deeply of Garonne water.
I had not thought from his fair face that he had stood to this matter so shrewdly."
"Faith," said Ford, "this air of Bordeaux hath turned our turtle- dove into a game-cock.