At any rate Daniel was immensely relieved that it was not a serious beating. Otherwise he would've been obliged to draw the sword hanging from his belt, which he had no idea how to use. King James II most certainly would know what to do with it, of course. As Daniel plunged his upper lip through the curtain of foam on his pint, he had a moment's phant'sy of unbelting the weapon and tossing it across the room to the sovereign, who'd snatch it from the air, whip it out, and commence slaying subjects. Then Daniel could perhaps embroider ‘pon his deed by smashing a bit of crockery over someone's head – better yet, sustain an honorable wound or two. This would guarantee him a free, all-expenses paid, but strictly one-way trip to France, where he'd probably be rewarded with an English earldom that he'd never be able to visit, and get to lounge around in James's exile court all day.