He was a man of about twenty-five, tall and sinewy, and was accounted the best swordsman of his family.
"Cousin Robert," William Baird said, "this young fellow would enter our service; but before I take him, I must see that he knows his business.
Do you take a turn with the sword with him.
"No, no, not a two-handed sword; I don't want him to be slain.

Take a couple of swords from the wall.

Give him another steel cap, and full body armour.

That of his own would not keep out a good, downright stroke." By the time that Oswald was armed, a number of the Bairds and their friends had assembled in the hall, hearing of what was going to take place.
"A fine young fellow, truly," Rotherglen said.

"In height and width, he matches Robert well, though of course your cousin must be the more powerful, seeing that he is some four or five years older than this young fellow; who, when he reaches his age, bids fair to be well-nigh as strong a man as that monk." Roger had just entered, with the priest.
"Well, monk," Baird said, "we are going to try the mettle of your companion of yesterday." "I answer not for his mettle," Roger said; "but if he fights as well as he talks, he will not do discredit to himself." As they took their places, facing each other, the lookers on, men well qualified to judge of strength and sinew, murmured to each other that it would be difficult to find a better-matched pair.