This your present errand may prove more dangerous than you imagine.

Go and put it on." Sholto kneeled down and kissed the hand of his liege lady.

Then when he had risen she gave him down the armour piece by piece, dusting each with her kerchief with a sort of reverent action, as one might touch the face of the dead.

In Sholto's hands it proved indeed light almost as woven cloth of homespun from Dame Barbara's loom, and flexible as the spun silk of Lyons which the great wear next their bodies.
With it there went an under-suit of finest and softest leather, that the skin should not be chafed by the cunning links as they worked smoothly over one another at each movement of the body within.
Sholto buckled on his lady's gift with a swelling heart.

It was his dead master's armour.