“Then the king’s face lighted up so as ’twas a pleasure to see; and he said right heartily, ‘Thou art as modest as valiant, Sir Bertrand, but in this matter I may not yield to thee. Better man could I find none, were I to search all Christendom; and as for these my brothers and kinsmen of whom thou speak’st, let any man of them dare to dispute thy commands, and I will so deal with him that he shall never offend in such wise again. Take thine office, then, and defend this realm as God hath sent thee to do.’ Thus was Bertrand in some sort enforced to take the office, whether he would or no; and small need have I to tell ye if he hath shown himself worthy of it.”
“I have ever heard,” said Hugo, “that he is in high favour with the king; and it speaketh well for King Charles that he can so bestow his favour.”
“Nathless there have been rubs between them,” said Olivier, with a broad grin. “I was myself in presence, when, but a few months later, Bertrand spake to him, before all his court, such words as a king’s ears have seldom heard.”
“Ay, how chanced that?”
“Marry, thus. When winter came, and the war was stayed a while, certain ill counsellors persuaded King Charles (who was too wise to have done such folly himself) that it behoved him to hold fast what money he had, and give nothing out; so, when Bertrand sent to ask the pay due to his soldiers, he gat no answer but this, that it was not convenient to send it at that time.
“Men say who saw it, that his face was like a flaming fire; and he rent the letter in pieces, and stamped on them; and then he shouted for his horse, and away he flew to Paris, and burst into the king’s presence as if entering a stormed castle. When the king saw him come he changed countenance somewhat, and went hastily to meet him, saying smoothly, ‘Welcome, my trusty Sir Bertrand; thou knowest how highly I prize thee.’
“‘Thou say’st it, lord king, but I see not the proof thereof,’ quoth Bertrand, grimly. ‘Where is the pay promised to my soldiers, who have fought thy battles all this year?’
“Then the king cast down his eyes; for Bertrand’s look was such as no man would have cared to meet—no, not I myself.
“‘Be not moved, I pray, good Bertrand; thou knowest my coffers are well-nigh drained, and I cannot fill them again without laying heavy taxes on my people, which I am loth to do; but if thou wilt have patience——’
“‘Patience?’ cried Bertrand, in a voice like the thunder of heaven. ‘What patience, when the men who have fought by my side are hungry and cold, and look in vain to me for their due? If they cannot be paid without laying on of taxes, lay them not on thy poor people, but on thy fat abbots and sleek bishops, and these soft courtiers who flaunt in silk and velvet while the men who defend them go starving and in rags! Paid shall my men be from the rents of mine own lands and castles, since their king grudgeth them what he oweth; and, for my office, let him take it who will, for I will bear it no longer!’