Now kings differ in character like other folk; but there is one trait they have in common; they are mightily inclined to be affable to men of very low estate. These do not vie with them in anything whatever, so jealousy cannot creep in; and they amuse them by their bluntness and novelty, and refresh the poor things with a touch of nature—a rarity in courts. So Philip the Good reined in his horse and gave Martin almost a tete-a-tete, and Martin reminded him of a certain battlefield where he had received an arrow intended for his sovereign. The duke remembered the incident perfectly, and was graciously pleased to take a cheerful view of it. He could afford to, not having been the one hit. Then Martin told his majesty of Gerard's first capture in the church, his imprisonment in the tower, and the manoeuvre by which they got him out, and all the details of the hunt; and whether he told it better than I have, or the duke had not heard so many good stories as you have, certain it is that sovereign got so wrapt up in it, that, when a number of courtiers came galloping up and interrupted Martin, he swore like a costermonger, and threatened, only half in jest, to cut off the next head that should come between him and a good story; and when Martin had done, he cried out—
“St. Luke! what sport goeth on in this mine earldom, ay! in my own woods, and I see it not. You base fellows have all the luck.” And he was indignant at the partiality of Fortune. “Lo you now! this was a man-hunt,” said he. “I never had the luck to be at a man-hunt.”
“My luck was none so great,” replied Martin bluntly: “I was on the wrong side of the dogs' noses.”
“Ah! so you were; I forgot that.” And royalty was more reconciled to its lot. “What would you then?”
“A free pardon, your highness, for myself and Gerard.”
“For what?”
“For prison-breaking.”
“Go to; the bird will fly from the cage. 'Tis instinct. Besides, coop a young man up for loving a young woman? These burgomasters must be void of common sense. What else?”
“For striking down the burgomaster.”
“Oh, the hunted boar will turn to bay. 'Tis his right; and I hold him less than man that grudges it him. What else?”