"You will not quarrel here!"
Zbyshko turned again to the dealer in relics, and commanded,—
"Tell him from me that he loves an owl."
"My lord declares, noble knight, that you love an owl," repeated Sanderus, as an echo.
At this De Lorche dropped his reins, and with his right hand began to straighten and then to draw off his iron glove; next he threw it in the snow before Zbyshko, who beckoned to his Cheh to raise it with the point of his lance.
Hereupon Yendrek turned to Zbyshko with a face now threatening, and said,—
"You will not meet, I say, while my guard lasts. I will not permit you or him."
"But I did not challenge him, he challenged me."
"Yes, but for the owl. This is enough for me, but if any one opposes—hei! I know how to twist a girdle."
"I do not wish to do battle with you."
"But you will have to meet me, for I have sworn to defend this man."
"How will it be?" asked the stubborn Zbyshko.
"It is not far to Tsehanov."
"But what will the German think?"
"Let your man tell him that there cannot be a meeting here, and that first there must be permission from the prince for you, and from the comturs for him."
"But if they will not give permission?"
"Then manage as you like. Enough has been said."
Zbyshko, seeing that there was no way out, and understanding that Yendrek could not permit a battle, called Sanderus again to explain to the Knight of Lorraine that they would give battle only when in the place for it. De Lorche, on hearing the German's words, nodded in sign that he understood, and then extending his hand held Zbyshko's palm for a moment, and pressed it three times firmly, which, according to knightly custom, signified that they would do battle with each other wherever and whenever they could find opportunity. They moved then in apparent concord toward Tsehanov Castle, whose broad-topped towers were now visible on the background of the ruddy sky.
They entered during daylight; but before they had announced themselves at the castle gate and the bridge had been lowered, deep night had come.
