The solemn and sententious Englishmen were altogether taken aback by the Italian’s impudence; but Zouch settled the matter.

“Most noble captain, will you be pleased to recollect a certain little occurrence at Messina, in the year 1575?  For if you do not, I do; and beg to inform this gentleman that you are unworthy of his sword, and had you, unluckily for you, been an Englishman, would have found the fashions of our country so different from your own that you would have been then hanged, sir, and probably may be so still.”

The Italian’s sword flashed out in a moment:  but Lord Grey interfered.

“No fighting here, gentlemen.  That may wait; and, what is more, shall wait till—­Strike their swords down, Raleigh, Mackworth!  Strike their swords down!  Colonel Sebastian, you will be pleased to return as you came, in safety, having lost nothing, as (I frankly tell you) you have gained nothing, by your wild bearing here.  We shall proceed to deliberate on your fate.”

“I trust, my lord,” said Amyas, “that you will spare this braggart’s life, at least for a day or two.  For in spite of Captain Zouch’s warning, I must have to do with him yet, or my cheek will rise up in judgment against me at the last day.”

“Well spoken, lad,” said the colonel, as he swung out.  “So! worth a reprieve, by this sword, to have one more rapier-rattle before the gallows!  Then I take back no further answer, my lord deputy?  Not even our swords, our virgin blades, signor, the soldier’s cherished bride?  Shall we go forth weeping widowers, and leave to strange embrace the lovely steel?”

“None, sir, by heaven!” said he, waxing wroth.  “Do you come hither, pirates as you are, to dictate terms upon a foreign soil?  Is it not enough to have set up here the Spanish flag, and claimed the land of Ireland as the Pope’s gift to the Spaniard; violated the laws of nations, and the solemn treaties of princes, under color of a mad superstition?”

“Superstition, my lord?  Nothing less.  Believe a philosopher who has not said a pater or an ave for seven years past at least.  Quod tango credo, is my motto; and though I am bound to say, under pain of the Inquisition, that the most holy Father the Pope has given this land of Ireland to his most Catholic Majesty the King of Spain, Queen Elizabeth having forfeited her title to it by heresy,—­why, my lord, I believe it as little as you do.  I believe that Ireland would have been mine, if I had won it; I believe religiously that it is not mine, now I have lost it.  What is, is, and a fig for priests; to-day to thee, to-morrow to me.  Addio!” And out he swung.

“There goes a most gallant rascal,” said the lord deputy.

“And a most rascally gallant,” said Zouch.  “The murder of his own page, of which I gave him a remembrancer, is among the least of his sins.”

“And now, Captain Raleigh,” said Lord Grey, “as you have been so earnest in preaching this butchery, I have a right to ask none but you to practise it.”