Scarce had we disposed ourselves about the chimney-place for the slumber for which we yearned, when the first of the passages that were to ensue came upon us. A number of soldiers wearing the livery of the King came into the inn kitchen, bawling for wine and victual. These men, in their high boots and long cloaks and great hats, and with their long moustachios, were extremely formidable to look upon; and the Count of Nullepart and myself, conscious as we were of the strange mood of our companion, no sooner beheld these fellows than we regretted their intrusion exceedingly.
Sir Richard Pendragon, as became an old campaigner, had his eyes already sealed in slumber, and was beginning to snore loudly as he reclined with his enormous legs stretched out to the hearth, when these soldiers entered so unseasonably. As they came swaggering up to the cooking-pot, abusing the landlord loudly that no food was ready, one of them had the misfortune to trip over the Englishman’s far-extended limbs. As he measured his length he swore a horrid oath in rude Spanish.
The Englishman gave a grunt and opened his eyes sleepily, and seeing the soldier sprawling on all fours, he said to the innkeeper, who was about to add a fowl to the pot, “Landlord, ye should not admit bears and dromedaries and beasts with four feet among the nobility. The nobility do not like it.”
The Englishman’s insolent tone was heard by the comrades of the fallen one, who numbered eight or nine. They looked at him as though they could not believe what their ears had told them, and then their hands flew to the hilts of their swords. By this, however, the fallen one had risen to his feet. He pulled his moustachios and rolled his eyes with fury.
“By the devil’s life!” he cried, “you foreign dog, I will cut out your liver!”
And as he spoke he drew his sword with a flourish.
CHAPTER XXI
OF OUR FIRST PASSAGES WITH THE CASTILIAN
Knowing the temper of our companion towards all of this complexion, we expected no less of him than that he would spring to his feet at once and have at this ruffler. But, to our surprise, he remained just as he was, not stirring a hand, yet abating his speech into a curious kind of softness, which seemed to me, who knew his prowess, to render him the more formidable.
“Do you hear, you Bavarian dog?” the infuriated soldier cried in his ear as he brandished his sword. “I say I will cut off your head!”
The Englishman yawned a little, and then said in a tone of such humility as to render it surprising, “May I ask your excellency to accord English Dickon a brief space for his prayers? His was a nice mother, she had a nice son, and her last charge to her first-born was, ‘Richard, when Heaven requires you, let a life of integrity be your passport to the Holy Stool.’”