"Well then," said Jodelle, laying a written paper before him, "you must know that; and by that name I require you not only to let me pass free, but to keep yon youth prisoner, as an enemy to the king."
"'Tis sure enough the king's name, in his own writing; and there is the great seal too," said the old knight. "This will serve your turn, sir, as far as going away yourself,--but as to keeping the youth, I know nothing of that. The paper says nothing of that, as far as I can see."
"No; it does not," said Jodelle; "but still----"
"Oh, it does not, does not it?" said the Englishman, giving back the paper. "Thank you at least for that admission; for, as to what the paper says, may I be confounded if I can read a word of it."
"Listen to me, however," said Jodelle; and approaching close to the English knight, he whispered a few words in his ear.
The old man listened for a moment, with a grave and attentive face, bending his head and inclining his ear to the Brabançois' communication. Then suddenly he turned round, and eyed him from head to foot with a glance of severe scorn. "Open the door!" cried he to his men loudly--"open the door! By God, I shall be suffocated!--I never was in a small room with such a damned rascal in my life before. Let him pass! let him pass! and keep out of the way--take care his clothes do not touch you--it may be contagious; and, by the Lord! I would sooner catch the plague than such villany as he is tainted withal."
While surprised, and at first scarce grasping their leader's meaning, the English troopers drew back from the Brabançois' path, as if he had been really a leper, Jodelle strode to the door of the cottage, smothering the wrath he dared not vent. On the threshold, however, he paused; and, turning towards the old soldier as if he would speak, glared on him for a moment with the glance of a wounded tiger; but, whether he could find no words equal to convey the virulence of his passion, or whether prudence triumphed over anger, cannot be told, but he broke suddenly away, and catching his horse's bridle, sprang into the saddle, and rode off at full speed.
"I am afraid I must keep thee, poor youth," said the old knight,--"I am afraid I must keep thee, whether I will or no. I should be blamed if I let thee go; though, on my knightly honour, 'tis cursed hard to be obliged to keep a good honest youth like thee, and let a slave like that go free! Nevertheless, you must stay here; and if you try to make your escape, I do not know what I must do to thee. Robin," he continued, turning to one of his men-at-arms, "put him into the back chamber that looks upon the lane, and keep a good guard over him, while I go on to the other village to see that lord Pembroke's quarters be prepared:--and hark ye," he added, speaking in a lower voice, "leave the window open, and tie his horse under it, and there is a gros Tournois for thee to drink the king's health with the villagers and the other soldiers. Do you understand?"
"Ay, sir! ay!" answered the man-at-arms, "I understand, and will take care that your worship's commands be obeyed."
"'Tis a good youth," said the old knight, "and a bold, and the other was nothing but a pitiful villain, that will be hanged yet, if there be a tree in France to hang him on. Now, though I might be blamed if I let this lad go, and John might call me a hard-headed old fool, as once he did; yet I don't know, Robin,--I don't know whether in knightly honour I should keep the true man prisoner and let the traitor go free--I don't know Robin,--I don't know!"