It was clear that the duke was a man of choler by the irascibility of his words.
Don Luiz came immediately. There was trepidation in his mien.
“This person,” said the duke, “informs us that he bears no communication from our nephew the Castilian.”
“Under your favour, excellency,” said the Englishman, “your mind although virtuously given and an ornament to your age and country, appears to have led you into some sort of confusion. English Richard, honest man, never spoke of Castile your nephew; he would scorn to speak of such a scurvy rogue, but rather did he mention your lordship’s lord and master.”
“My lord,” said the fat Don Luiz, speaking with a most ponderous impressiveness, “my words shall be these. This gentleman informed me at the gate that he was the bearer of a message from the King, and on that ground demanded audience in quite a peremptory manner.”
“So I did, brother, so I did,” said the Englishman. “You cursed Spaniards are so dull that I am obliged to speak peremptory if I speak at all.”
“Further, my lord,” said Don Luiz, passing over this scandalous interruption with immense disdain, “he declared himself to be the emissary of that great King who at this moment held, as it were, your lordship’s grace in the hollow of his hand. Now, it was perfectly clear to me, your lordship, that there is only one king whose might is of this nature, which is him of Castile, your lordship’s nephew. Thus, under your grace’s favour, was I justified, I think.”
“Ods my life!” said the duke, addressing my companion with the greatest irascibility, “if I find you have perverted your speech in this particular, or that you think to make a toy of such as I, sirrah, I will undertake to show you how far you are astray by having you broke upon the wheel.”
When the angry duke spoke these last terrible words he exalted his voice into such an accent as rendered them truly affrighting to my ears. Straight I fell into a violent trembling on the Englishman’s account; but he, steadfast man, did not abate a whit of his easy smiling. As he looked at the threatful duke his red eyes seemed to be full of a furtive and whimsical humour.
“No, by my soul,” he said, “this is not politeness, at least as we of England understand that quality. Wheel? No matter where I travel in this unholy land of Spain, the parish that I come to is a scurvy one. Wheel? Duke or donkey driver, it is nothing to the matter, all are tainted with incivility. Wheel? Why, duke, my message is ‘Be thou of good courage,’ and He who sends it thee is that great King of Heaven who holds thee in the hollow of His hand. Do you pause and think upon it, duke.”