So pleasant was his tone, so friendly his look, that even the quarrelsome Canterbury could find no offence in either; and the company, seeing a man of such proverbial courage bent on avoiding all dispute at their general’s table, admired his courtesy and self-command as much as they condemned their countryman’s rudeness.
But Sir Thomas, though foiled for once, was not to be so easily baulked; and, a few minutes later, he said pointedly to Du Guesclin himself—
“I pray thee, good Sir Bertrand, what men were they who followed thee yester-eve? Some of my archers saw among the dead certain men whom they held to belong to a gang of robbers that have long haunted these woods; but I can never believe that any true knight would hold fellowship with such thievish scum!”
This time the affront was too direct to be mistaken; and for a moment Du Guesclin’s eyes rested on his insulter with a look that made the swaggering Englishman, brave as he really was, tingle to his very finger-tips. But Bertrand controlled himself with a mighty effort, and replied as calmly as ever—
“Gramercy for thy care of my fair fame, Sir Thomas; but thine archers were in the right. The men that followed me yester-eve were the robbers of whom thou speak’st, whose chief pledged himself to me, when I had somewhat the better of him in single fight, to be at my command, he and his men, and do me masterful service in war, which they did all the more because—as one of them said with that discourtesy and rudeness of speech that is ever the mark of a common churl” (Sir Thomas winced visibly)—“in this land the English let no thieves thrive but themselves!”
The stifled laugh which ran around the board showed that, in the opinion of all present, the bully’s insolence had been well requited; but Canterbury’s sun-browned face glowed like heated iron, and he broke out fiercely—
“Whoso dares speak in the same breath of thieves and Englishmen, I defy him to——”
“Sir Thomas,” said the duke, sternly, “hast thou forgot at whose table thou sittest? Who gave thee leave to set thyself up as England’s champion, when thy king’s son is here in presence? I counsel thee to rein up thy brawling humour, lest I curb it for thee!”
“Nay,” said Du Guesclin, “let not your highness be wroth with this good knight, if he be minded to bid me to a friendly trial of manhood. It grieves me much that I cannot pleasure him, having promised my liege lady to fight no combat this day; and if any man hath a mind to think Bertrand Du Guesclin a coward for that cause, e’en let him.”
“If any man speak so of thee in my hearing, noble Sir Bertrand,” cried John of Gaunt, “I will myself challenge him to the combat, and will so deal with him that he shall never offend in such wise again.”