"I am very moderate, beau sire," replied Jodelle, with the most imperturbable composure, "very moderate in regard to what I sell. Would you know, my lord king, what I demand for placing your nephew Arthur in your hands, with all those who are now assisting him to besiege the queen, your mother, in her château of Mirebeau?--'Tis a worthy deed, and merits some small recompence."
"Speak, speak, man!" cried the king impatiently. "Go not round and round the matter. Speak it out plainly. What sum dost thou ask?"
"Marry! my lord, there must go more than sums to the bargain," replied Jodelle boldly. "But if you would know justly what I do demand, 'tis this. First, you shall pay me down, or give me here an order on your royal treasure for the sum of ten thousand marks in what coin you will."
"By the Lord, and the Holy Evangelists!" cried the king; but, then pausing, he added, while he turned a half smiling glance to Lord Pembroke:--"Well, thou shalt have the order on the royal treasury. What next?"
"After you have given me the order, sire," replied Jodelle, answering the meaning of the king's smile, "I will find means to wring the money out of your friends, or out of your enemies, even should your treasure be as dry as hay."
"Try my enemies first, good Alberic," said the king; "my friends have enough to do already.--But what next? for you put that firstly, if I forget not."
"Next, you must give me commission, under your royal signet, to raise for your use, and at your expense, one thousand free lances," replied Jodelle stoutly, "engaged to serve you for the space of ten years. Moreover, I must have annually half the pay of Mercader; and you must consent to dub me knight with your royal hand."
"Knight!" cried the Earl of Pembroke, turning fiercely upon him.--"By the Lord! if the king do dub so mean and pitiful a traitor, I will either make the day of your dubbing the last of your life; or I will have my own scullion strike off my own spurs, as a dishonour to my heels, when such a villain wears the same."
"When those spurs are on, Lord Pembroke," replied Jodelle boldly, "thou shalt not want one to meet thee, and give thee back scorn for scorn. Till then, meddle with what concerns thee, and mar not the king's success with thy scolding."
"Peace, Pembroke! peace!" cried King John, seeing his hasty peer about to make angry answer. "Who dare interfere where my will speaks?--And now tell me, fellow Alberic," he added with an air of dignity he could sometimes assume, "suppose that we refuse thine exacting demands--what follows then?"