“Whence comes your great captain, Sir Hugh Kennedy?”
“There you name an honourable man-at-arms,” I said, “the glory of Scotland; and to show you I was right, he is none of your marchmen, or Highlanders, but has lands in Ayrshire, and comes of a very honourable house.”
“It is Sir Hugh that hath just held to ransom the King’s good town of Tours, where is that gracious lady the mother of the King’s wife, the Queen of Sicily.”
Hereat I waxed red as fire.
“He will be in arrears of his pay, no doubt,” I made answer.
“It is very like,” said Father François: “but considering all that you tell me, I crave your pardon if I still think that the Blessed Maid has won you from the common ways of your countrymen.”
To which, in faith, I had no answer to make, but that my fortune was like to be the happier in this world and the next.
“Much need have all men of her goodness, and we of her valour,” said the father, and he sighed. “This is now the fourth siege of Compiègne I have seen, and twice have the leads from our roofs and the metal of our bells been made into munition of war. Absit omen Domine! And now they say the Duke of Burgundy has sworn to slay all, and spare neither woman nor child.”
“A vaunt of war, father. Call they not him the Good Duke? When we lay before Paris, the English put about a like lying tale concerning us, as if we should sack and slay all.”
“I pray that you speak sooth,” said Father François.