So to Steeple, preceded by the squires, who rode before them bareheaded, carrying their swords by the scabbarded points, with their gold spurs hanging from the hilts, they came at last.  Here the hall was set for a great feast, a space having been left between the tables and the dais, to which the brethren were conducted.  Then came forward Sir Anthony de Mandeville and Sir Roger de Merci in full armour, and presented to Sir Andrew D’Arcy, their uncle, who stood upon the edge of the dais, also in his armour, their swords and spurs, of which he gave back to them two of the latter, bidding them affix these upon the candidates’ right heels.  This done, the Prior John blessed the swords, after which Sir Andrew girded them about the waists of his nephews, saying: 

“Take ye back the swords that you have used so well.”

Next, he drew his own silver-hilted blade that had been his father’s and his grandfather’s, and whilst they knelt before him, smote each of them three blows upon the right shoulder, crying with a loud voice:  “In the name of God, St. Michael, and St. George, I knight ye.  Be ye good knights.”

Thereafter came forward Rosamund as their nearest kinswoman, and, helped by other ladies, clad upon them their hauberks, or coats of mail, their helms of steel, and their kite-shaped shields, emblazoned with a skull, the cognizance of their race.  This done, with the musicians marching before them, they walked to Steeple church—­a distance of two hundred paces from the Hall, where they laid their swords upon the altar and took them up again, swearing to be good servants of Christ and defenders of the Church.  As they left its doors, who should meet them but the cook, carrying his chopper in his hand and claiming as his fee the value of the spurs they wore, crying aloud at the same time: 

“If either of you young knights should do aught in despite of your honour and of the oaths that you have sworn—­from which may God and his saints prevent you!—­then with my chopper will I hack these spurs from off your heels.”

Thus at last the long ceremony was ended, and after it came a very great feast, for at the high table were entertained many noble knights and ladies, and below, in the hall their squires, and other gentlemen, and outside all the yeomanry and villagers, whilst the children and the aged had food and drink given to them in the nave of the church itself.  When the eating at length was done, the centre of the hall was cleared, and while men drank, the minstrels made music.  All were very merry with wine and strong ale, and talk arose among them as to which of these brethren—­Sir Godwin or Sir Wulf—­was the more brave, the more handsome, and the more learned and courteous.

Now a knight—­it was Sir Surin de Salcote—­seeing that the argument grew hot and might lead to blows, rose and declared that this should be decided by beauty alone, and that none could be more fitted to judge than the fair lady whom the two of them had saved from woman-thieves at the Death Creek quay.  They all called, “Ay, let her settle it,” and it was agreed that she would give the kerchief from her neck to the bravest, a beaker of wine to the handsomest, and a Book of Hours to the most learned.