settle it," and it was agreed that she would
give the kerchief from her neck to the bravest, a beaker of wine
to the handsomest, and a Book of Hours to the most learned.

So, seeing no help for it, since except her father, the
brethren, the most of the other ladies and herself, who drank but
water, gentle and simple alike, had begun to grow heated with
wine, and were very urgent, Rosamund took the silk kerchief from
her neck. Then coming to the edge of the dais, where they were
seated in the sight of all, she stood before her cousins, not
knowing, poor maid, to which of them she should offer it. But
Godwin whispered a word to Wulf, and both of them stretching out
their right hands, snatched an end of the kerchief which she held
towards them, and rending it, twisted the severed halves round
their sword hilts. The company laughed at their wit, and cried:

"The wine for the more handsome. They cannot serve that thus."

Rosamund thought a moment; then she lifted a great silver
beaker, the largest on the board, and having filled it full of
wine, once more came forward and held it before them as though
pondering. Thereon the brethren, as though by a single movement,
bent forward and each of them touched the beaker with his lips.
Again a great laugh went up, and even Rosamund smiled.

"The book! the book!" cried the guests. "They dare not rend the
holy book!"

So for the third time Rosamund advanced, bearing the missal.

"Knights," she said, "you have torn my kerchief and drunk my wine.
Now I offer this hallowed writing--to him who can read it best."

"Give it to Godwin," said Wulf. "I am a swordsman, not a clerk."

"Well said! well said!" roared the company. "The sword for
us--not the pen!" But Rosamund turned on them and answered:

"He who wields sword is brave, and he who wields pen is wise, but
better is he who can handle both sword and pen--like my cousin
Godwin, the brave and learned."

"Hear her! hear her!" cried the revellers, knocking their horns
upon the board, while in the silence that followed a woman's
voice said, "Sir Godwin's luck is great, but give me Sir Wulf's
strong arms."

Then the drinking began again, and Rosamund and the ladies
slipped away, as well they might--for the times were rough and
coarse.

On the morrow, after most of the guests were gone, many of them
with aching heads, Godwin and Wulf sought their uncle, Sir
Andrew, in the solar where he sat alone, for they knew Rosamund
had w