"But thou art no Englishman, nor Norman either," replied the knight. "Thy tongue betrays thee. I have borne arms here, these fifty years, from boyhood to old age, and I know every jargon that is spoken in the king's dominions, from Rouen to the mountains; and thou speakest none. Thou art a Frenchman, of Provence, or thine accent lies."
"I may be a Frenchman, and yet serve the king of England," replied Jodelle boldly.
"God send him better servants than thou art, then!" replied the old knight.--"Well, boy, what sayest thou? Nay, look not sad, for that matter. We will not hurt thee, lad."
"You will hurt me, and you do hurt me," answered Ermold, "if you hold me here, and do not let me either cut out that villain's heart, or on to tell my lord that he is betrayed."
"And who is thy lord, boy?" demanded the knight, "English or French?--and what is his name?"
"French!" answered Ermold boldly; and with earnest pride he added, "he is the noble Sir Guy de Coucy."
"A good knight!--a good knight!" said the Englishman. "I have heard the heralds tell of him. A crusader too--young, they say, but very bold, and full of noble prowess: I should like to splinter a lance with him, in faith!"
"You need not baulk your liking, sir knight," answered the page at once: "my master will meet you on horseback, or on foot, with what arms you will, and when:--give me but a glove to bear him as a gage, and you shall not be long without seeing him."
"Thou bearest thee like the page of such a knight," replied the Englishman; "and in good truth, I have a mind to pleasure thee," he added, drawing off one of his gauntlets, as if about to send it to De Coucy; but whether such was his first intention or not, his farther determinations were changed by Jodelle demanding abruptly--"Know you the signature of king John, sir knight?"
"Surely! somewhat better than my own," answered the other,--"somewhat better than my own, which I have not seen for these forty years; and which, please God! I shall never see again; for my last will and testament, which was drawn by the holy clerk of St. Anne's, two years and a half come St. Michael's, was stamped with my sword pommel, seeing that I had forgot how to write one half the letters of my name, and the others were not readable.--But as to the king's, I'd swear to it."