state of excitement.

"What do you think, Geoffrey? The king, with the Prince of Wales and all
his court, are coming to the games next month. They say that the king
himself will adjudge the prizes; and there is to be a grand assault-at-arms
between ten of the 'prentices with a captain, and an equal number of sons
of nobles and knights."

"That will be rare," Geoffrey Ward exclaimed; "but there will be some
broken limbs, and maybe worse. These assaults-at-arms seldom end without
two or three being killed. However, you youngsters will not hit as hard as
trained knights; and if the armour be good, no great damage should be
done."

"Do you think that I shall be one of the ten?" Walter asked anxiously.

"Just as if you did not know you would," Geoffrey replied, laughing. "Did
you not win the prize for swordplay last year? And twelve months have
added much to the strength of your arm, to say nothing of your skill with
weapons. If you win this year again - and it will be strange if you do not
- you are like enough to be chosen captain. You will have tough fighting, I
can tell you, for all these young aspirants to knighthood will do their
best to show themselves off before the king and queen. The fight is not to
take place on horseback, I hope; for if so, it will be settled as soon as
it begins."

"No, it is to be on foot; and the king himself is to give orders as to the
fighting."

"You had best get out that helmet and coat of mail of yours," Geoffrey