turning, left the apartment by another door.

When the King, with his gentlemen, entered the armory he was still smarting

from the humiliation of De Montfort's reproaches, and as he laid aside his

surcoat and plumed hat to take the foils with De Fulm, his eyes alighted on

the master of fence, Sir Jules de Vac, who was advancing with the King's

foil and helmet. Henry felt in no mood for fencing with De Fulm, who, like

the other sycophants that surrounded him, always allowed the King easily to

best him in every encounter.

De Vac he knew to be too jealous of his fame as a swordsman to permit

himself to be overcome by aught but superior skill, and this day Henry felt

that he could best the devil himself.

The armory was a great room on the main floor of the palace, off the guard

room. It was built in a small wing of the building so that it had light

from three sides. In charge of it was the lean, grizzled, leather-skinned

Sir Jules de Vac, and it was he whom Henry commanded to face him in mimic

combat with the foils, for the King wished to go with hammer and tongs at

someone to vent his suppressed rage.

So he let De Vac assume to his mind's eye the person of the hated De

Montfort, and it followed that De Vac was nearly surprised into an early

and mortifying defeat by the King's sudden and clever attack.

Henry III had always been accounted a good swordsman, but that day he quite

outdid himself and, in his imagination, was about to run the pseudo De

Montfort through the heart, to the wild acclaim of his audience. For this

fell purpose he had backed the astounded De Vac twice around the hall when,

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