were clambering over the outer wall. So the Baron called for his Sunday
hauberk of Milan steel, and his great two-handed sword with the
terrible name:--it was the fashion in feudal times to give names to
swords: King Arthur's was christened Excalibar; the Baron called his
Tickletoby, and whenever he took it in hand, it was no joke.

"Up with the portcullis! down with the bridge!" said Sir Robert; and
out he sallied followed by the _elite_ of his retainers. Then there was
a pretty to-do. Heads flew one way--arms and legs another; round went
Tickletoby, and, wherever it alighted, down came horse and man, the
Baron excelled himself that day. All that he had done in Palestine faded
in the comparison; he had fought for fun there, but now it was for life
and lands. Away went John de Northwood; away went William of Hever, and
Roger of Leybourne. Hamo de Crevecoeur, with the church vassals and the
banner of St. Austin, had been gone some time. The siege was raised, and
the Lord of Sheppey was left alone in his glory.

But, brave as the Baron undoubtedly was, and total as had been the
defeat of his enemies, it cannot be supposed that _La Stoccata_
would be allowed to carry it away thus. It has before been hinted that
Abbot Anselm had written to the Pope, and Boniface the Eight piqued
himself on his punctuality as a correspondent in all matters connected
with church discipline. He sent back an answer by return of post; and
by it all Christian people were strictly enjoined to aid in
exterminating the offender, on pain of the greater excommunication in
this world and a million of years of purgatory in the next. But then,
again, Boniface the Eight was rather at a discount in England just
then. He had affronted Longshanks, as the royal lieges had nicknamed
their monarch; and Longshanks had been rather sharp upon the clergy in
consequence. If the Baron de Shurland could but get the King's pardon