Sir Cathvart reined in his horse at the bridge. He held up his mailed fist to signal the rest of his troop to stop. Standing on the bridge was a man in rusty armour, but holding a well-kept sword.
"Out of my way. I am on a mission for the King."
"You may not pass."
"Come now," the knight dismounted and walked toward the man on the bridge, "We are both honour bound to obey the King's desires."
"Honour is a lie."
"Honour is everything. It is our honour as knights that makes us who we are."
The other man remained silent. Sir Cathvart could see that he was an older man, but there were remains of heraldic colours on his armour.
"We will have a test of arms. If you prevail, then my men will turn away and not bother you anymore. You hear?" he called, "If this good knight wins the day, then you are to pass by without molesting him. There. They will obey as men of honour."