“If it please your majesty,” said Baron Ingulph, “this man invented a new trigger for our carriage crossbows, but he was lost in the crowd, and we have sought for him in vain; my serjeant here has this moment recognised him.”
“Why did you not come to us before, fellow?” said the king. “Let him be released; let him be entertained at our expense; give him clothes and a sword. We will see you further.”
Overjoyed at this sudden turn of fortune, Felix forgot to let well alone. He had his audience with him for a moment; he could not resist as it were following up his victory. He thanked the king, and added that he could make a machine which would knock the walls yonder to pieces without it being necessary to approach nearer than half a bow-shot.
“What is this?” said the king. “Ingulph, have you ever heard of such a machine?”
“There is no such thing,” said the Baron, beginning to feel that his professional reputation as the master of the artillery was assailed. “There is nothing of the kind known.”
“It will shoot stones as big, as heavy as a man can lift,” said Felix eagerly, “and easily knock towers to fragments.”
The king looked from one to another; he was incredulous. The Baron smiled scornfully. “Ask him, your majesty, how these stones are to be thrown; no bow could do it.”
“How are the stones to be thrown?” said the king sharply. “Beware how you play with us.”
“By the force of twisted ropes, your majesty.”
They all laughed. The Baron said: “You see, your majesty, there is nothing of the kind. This is some jester.”