"Thou hast shrewd ears, good Hugo," answered his lord. "'Twas I rode across it some half an hour ago or less."
"'Tis that the night is woundy still," replied the squire, "one might hear a fly buzz at a mile; 'tis as hot as Palestine too. Think you, beau sire," he added, somewhat abruptly, "that 'twill be long before this castle falls?"
"Nine months and a day! good Hugo," answered the knight,--"nine months and a day! without our reinforcements come up. How would you have us take it? We have no engines. We have neither mangonel, nor catapult, nor pierrier to batter the wall, nor ladders nor moving tower to storm it."
"I would fain be on to La Flêche, beau sire," said Hugo, laughing. "'Tis that makes me impatient."
"And why to La Flêche?" demanded De Coucy. "Why there, more than to any other town of Maine or Normandy?"
"Oh, I forgot, sire. You were not there," said the squire, "when the packman at Tours told Ermold de Marcy and me, that Sir Julian, and the Lady Isadore, and Mistress Alixe, and little Eleanor, and all, are at La Flêche."
"Ha!" said De Coucy, "and this cursed castle is keeping us here for ages, and those wild knights of Poitou lying there in the town, and spending the time in foolish revel that would take twenty castles if well employed."
"That is what Gallon the fool said yesterday," rejoined Hugo. "God forgive me for putting you, sire, and Gallon together: but he said, 'If those Poitevins would but dine as heartily on stone walls as they do on cranes and capons, and toss off as much water as they do wine, they would drink the ditch dry, and swallow the castle, before three days were out.'"
"On my life, he said not amiss," replied De Coucy.--"Where is poor Gallon? I have not seen him these two days."
"He keeps to the town, beau sire," replied Hugo, "to console the good wives, as he says. But here comes Henry Carvel from the rounds, or I am mistaken. Yet the night is so dark, one would not see a camel at a yard's distance. Ho, stand! Give the word!"