"Yes!" suddenly interrupted Zbyszko, "it's true. But afterward, the people said that Ryngalla regretted being the wife of the bishop (because he, although married, did not want to resign from the priesthood) and, feeling that God's blessing could not be over such a marriage, poisoned her husband. When I heard that, I asked a pious hermit to absolve me from that vow."
"He was a hermit," answered Macko, laughing, "but was he pious? I don't know; we went to him on Friday, and he was splitting bear's bones with an ax, and loudly sucking the marrow."
"But he said that the marrow was not meat, and besides, he had received permission to do it, because after sucking marrow, he used to have marvelous visions during his sleep and the next day he could prophesize until noontime."
"Well, well!" answered Macko. "And the beautiful Ryngalla is a widow now, and she may call you to her service."
"It would be in vain, because I am going to choose another lady, whom I will serve till death, and then I will find a wife."
"First, you must attain a knighthood."
"There will be plenty of tournaments. And before that, the king will not dub a single knight. I can measure myself against any. The duke could not have thrown me down if my horse had not reared."
"There will be fighters far better than you are."
Here the noblemen began to shout:
"For God's sake! Here, in the presence of the queen, will fight not people like you, but only the most famous knights in the world. Here will fight Zawisza of Garbow, Dobko of Olesnica, Powala of Taczew, Paszko of Biskupice, Jasko Naszan, and Abdank of Gora. Andrzej of Brochocice, Krystyn of Ostrow, and Jakob of Kobylany! Can you measure your sword against the swords of those, with whom neither the knights here, nor of the Bohemian court, nor of the Hungarian court can compete? What are you talking about? Are you better than them? How old are you?"
"Eighteen," answered Zbyszko.
"Every one of them could crush you between his fingers."