The Acolyte, Quoth the Monk.

The young warlike earl was sheathed and armed in a way that i, though familiar with many camps, had never seen before. Over his fine gold hawburk, was a wondrous tabard, a magnificent emblazoned surtu. And as he knelt, the light of the waxen altar pers twinkled upon his steel vestments. They gleamed from breastplate and from belt; they illuminated the thick sown pearls and sapphires of his sword hilt. My son murmured the abbot, extending his hands in blessing. Et vobis answered the gallant, damihi domine, reverend sime miseric