An unknown land.
The ride out from the town was uneventful, save that the people hurried to their windows and doors to see them pass, and admire the beauty of their steeds. Then as the city gate was passed and they rode out into the open country, with the way before them seeming perfectly clear, the King cried cheerily:
“Hah! I can breathe freely now. I must tell my brother Henry that the road to his Court is a disgrace, and travellers’ lives not safe. Now, in my kingdom of beautiful France every road to the capital from the seaports is— Why are you looking at me like that, Saint Simon?”
“Well, sir,” said the young man bluntly, “I was thinking about two or three cases where people have been waylaid and plundered and—”
“Yes, yes, yes,” said the King impatiently; “I think that there was a case or two, but surely we are better than this. Well, Denis, boy; how’s the bad arm?”
“Very stiff, sir, and aches; but I don’t mind now.”
“Not you, boy! Too brave a soldier! Ha, ha, ha! I almost think that I can see it all. My faith! I would I had been there to have seen you, you stripling, standing sword in hand in that lane to meet that ruffian’s charge with three horses abreast. And you wounded him too, and saved the beasts. I should like to see the young Englishman who would do a deed like that! Why, Saint Simon, you and I must look after our laurels. We ought to be proud of our companion, eh?”
“Oh, sir,” shouted Denis, giving a cry of pain, for as he spoke the King had clapped him heartily upon the shoulder that was nearest to him—unfortunately the right.
“Tut, tut, tut!” cried the King, leaning towards him, for the lad turned ghastly white. “There, hold up, boy. I wanted to show you how pleased I was with the bravery of your deed, and I have only given pain.”
“Not only, sir,” said the lad quickly. “Your hand hurt me for the moment, but my K— lord’s words of praise are thrilling still.”