Among these last was no rivalry for place, for each had his particular station assigned to him; but with the rest an occasional angry word, and a more frequent angry look, would mark the indignation of some aspiring courtier at what he thought an attempt upon the part of another to get before him.
"My Lord of Tremouille," said one sharply, "I wish you would refrain your horse; I have hardly space to ride."
"He will not be refrained, my reverend lord," replied the other, "'tis an ambitious beast, well nigh as aspiring as a churchman. He will forward, whatever be in his way. Good sooth, he knows his place well too, and thinks that, though he might make a poor show in a king's closet, he may be found better near his sovereign in the march or the battle than any of the mules of the Church."
The words were spoken in no very low tone, and probably they reached the ears of the young man at the head of the cavalcade; but he took no notice, though the prelate turned somewhat red, and several who were near laughed low; and a moment or two after, the whole party emerged from the narrower part of the gorge into that little amphitheatre which I have lately described.
"Why, what is here?" cried the leader of the band, reining up his horse. "This is a scene of fairy land? Who expected to meet with such a spectacle in this desert?"
"Why, sire," replied the prelate, "you may remember his Excellency the Regent of Milan promised to meet you somewhere near this spot--at least before you reached the city."
"Ah, Louis the Moor knows where to lay chaff for young birds," muttered La Tremouille; "commend me to these Italians for wheedling and trickery."
"Hush, hush!" said one of his companions; "you cannot deny, Tremouille, that this Ludovic is a stout and skilful soldier, as well as a shrewd politician. I know not how he gained the name of 'The Moor,' but----"
"Why, they gave him the name because all his relations die black, or turn black after they die," answered the gallant soldier, with a bitter laugh; "but, on my life, the pageant is pretty. 'Tis a gallantry not expected in this wild place. Only, my good friend, look to what wine you drink at Ludovic's expense; it sometimes has a strange taste, and stranger consequences, men say, especially upon his enemies."
"I am no enemy," answered the other; "you, look to yourself, Tremouille. You must either dare the boccone or die of thirst."