THE CHRONICLE OF CLEMENDY
out the Latins. But all agree that the Knight of Penhow carried the golden wings over battlements and breaches, through blood and fire and steel-hedges, most knightly and gloriously; and Gilbert Tapp followed close at his heels so that when Sir Roger poked a man in the ribs with his spear, the Esquire hit him hard over the head with his sword, and relieved him of any troubles that he might be destined to have in this mortal life. In this fashion they made themselves useful to their employers and got together many gold pieces, but the work was very hard and grew in time to be wearisome. For there are only a certain number of ways in which a man may be killed, and when you have gone through all these and begun again at the beginning, and are still drudging at the same mill, you begin to long for something fresh and cannot run your enemy through the breast or cleave him to the spine with any true art or relish for the business. Besides this constant warfare is like old Time and leaves certain indelible memorials in the way of scars, seams, holes, hacks, unhealed wounds, and tender places, for people will not be killed if they can help it and when hard pressed are apt to cut out their epitaphs on a hostile surface of flesh. And by the time Sir Roger had acquired a broad blue seam from his forehead to his jawbone, another across his left cheek, had lost one ear, and had gained a nasty wound in the side (Gilbert being rather worse off, for he was more obstinate) he began to consider that he had about enough of these memorial inscriptions written on him and
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