“There！” he growled， flinging the parchment across the table to them. “See what a pack of nursery tales our jackanapes of a nephew has sent us.”
“By your leave， Sire，” said Glozelle. “If the young warriorwhom we have just seen outside is the King Edmund mentioned in the writing， then I would not call him a nursery tale but a very dangerous knight.”
“King Edmund， pah！” said Miraz. “Does your Lordship believe those old wives‘ fables about Peter and Edmund and the rest？”
“I believe my eyes， your Majesty，” said Glozelle.
“Well， this is to no purpose，” said Miraz， “but as touching the challenge， I suppose there is only one opinion between us？”
“I suppose so， indeed， Sire，” said Glozelle. “And what is that？” asked the King.
“Most infallibly to refuse it，” said Glozelle. “For though I have never been called a coward， I must plainly say that to meet that young man in battle is more than my heart would serve me for. And if （as is likely） his brother， the High King， is more dangerous than he.why， on your life， my Lord King， have nothing to do with him.”