“Brava, brava, sirrah! Now get thee to the buttery, and then do thou come back, and show us again.”
At the mention of the honest word “buttery” Sir Richard Pendragon turned upon his heel without delay, and made his way there with a haste that to my mind ill became one of his degree, although I had begun to doubt whether in his native country the title he bore was so eminently honourable as it is in ours.
“A very whimsical fellow,” said the duke to Don Luiz as the Englishman went forth. “He will serve to amuse us of a morning, and of an evening too. By my faith, Luiz, this is a good fellow.”
“A good fellow, my lord, as your lordship has deigned to remark,” said Don Luiz ponderously; “and I mind me that he has the name of a brave and cunning man. He gave your grace’s nephew of Castile a great deal of trouble a year ago with his bold and hardy band of adventurers. According to report he has the name of a skilful captain, who is as ingenious in his mind as he is warlike in his attributes.”
“That is well, Luiz,” said the duke. “I am pleased at this. See to it that he hath thirty crowns a month, and do you give him the command of our horse.”
Hearing this magnanimous and simple-hearted nobleman filled with the praises of one who, whatever his merit, was yet unacquainted with the true inner grace of the heart, my courage mounted in my veins, and hope whispered many things it pleased me mightily to hear. Yet, when I ventured to bespeak the duke, as I conceived in a mode highly proper, he returned immediately to that formal gravity of mien which he had worn when first I had come into his presence.
“Your lordship’s grace,” I began, “my name is Miguel Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas, and of the natural blood of him who fought with Alban II. against the Moor at Loja, at Lucena, and an hundred fields. I am, I would have your lordship to believe, of the first families of our Asturias; and hearing of the uneasy situation of your lordship in the south, I have adventured from my native mountains to proffer to your lordship my sword and service.”
“Don Miguel Jesus Maria de Sarda y Boegas,” said the duke, “I thank you for them.”
“And, my lord, I would crave the gentle permission of your lordship to serve your daughter, if daughter hath your grace, and rumour hath not lied; for it is written among the precepts of my late father, Don Ygnacio, that I should serve her, if served she is to be, as faithfully as I am fain to serve her sire.”
Was ever man so cursed with the unlucky tongue within him! No sooner had I dropped a word about his daughter than a lively purple ran into his face, and that countenance which had been so gracious grew suddenly so arrogant that I was filled with qualms.