Chapter Twenty Five.
Carrbroke tells secrets.
The days passed quickly, with the Kings the best of friends, for Francis proved himself a boon companion, a good horseman, and quite after the King’s own heart.
He made himself a favourite too, and the most courtly at the Court, ready if he had been present to have brought a sneering smile to the lips of Sir Robert Garstang, who, when the minstrels were busy in their gallery, might have seen some justification of the bullying captain’s sneer respecting dancing masters, for Francis was ever ready and eager to lead some Court lady through the mazes of the dance.
For revels were plentiful at Windsor then, and Denis in the companionship of Carrbroke found the time pass pleasantly enough, on the terraces, in the park, and along the banks of the silver Thames; but he was quite forgetful for the most part of the special mission upon which he had crossed the sea.
For Ned Carrbroke had always something fresh to propose in the way of horsemanship, and often enough invited his French companion to sword-play, which was readily accepted; and to Carrbroke’s wonder and delight Leoni would come to look on, and at Denis’s request advise them upon questions dealing with offence and defence, and proper conduct of the rapier both in French and Italian schools.
“Why, he’s splendid,” cried Carrbroke one day, “only I don’t like him. He puts me out of heart. I used to think that I was a good fencer, but when I cross swords with him I feel quite a baby. You are lucky to have some one like that to give you lessons. Why, you must be splendid yourself.”
Denis laughed merrily.
“Why,” he said, “I always feel worse than you. Master Leoni, when I fence with him and he gives me a lesson, makes me feel as if there were magic in his blade which sends a strange aching pain all up the muscles of my arm.”