"My friend," said John of Hainault drily, "I advise you to be more respectful when you allude to the chief of the House of Valois, and to speak of him as King of France; otherwise, assuredly they will have little scruple in hanging you on the nearest tree."
"Well, my lord," replied I carelessly, "I am in their hands, and, doubtless, they can do with me as they please. But, in that case, my lord the Prince of Wales may make inconvenient inquiries after the fate of his page; and King Edward has this day shown that he knows how to avenge lawless executions."
"Mort Dieu!" exclaimed the Hainaulter in alarm; "I warn you, for your own sake, not to allow your tongue to outrun your discretion, or you will never more see the green fields and oaken forests of your native land."
And wishing me "Good night," he took his departure, certainly not much wiser than he had come.
I now stretched myself to rest, and slept the sound sleep of youth. Next morning I rose refreshed, and with a feeling that I had little to complain of, save that Fortune had been somewhat unkind in making me a captive in the hour of victory. But I was not without my consolation, and I was rather inclined to show contempt towards my gaolers as men belonging to an inferior nation. But I had prudence enough to keep this feeling in check, and so to insinuate myself into their good graces as to learn something as to the movements of Philip of Valois and John of Hainault.
It appeared, in fact, that Philip and the martial Hainaulter had only made a brief halt at La Broyes. Indeed, Philip neither considered it safe nor politic to remain long in the place. At midnight, after taking some refreshment, he again mounted, and, under the direction of guides familiar with the country, set out for Amiens. By daybreak he reached that place, and, having halted for a while to rest from his fatigue, he pursued his way to Paris, vowing to hang Sir Godemar du Fay, and vainly hoping, perhaps, to discover some way of redeeming himself and his fortunes from the disgrace and disaster of a terrible defeat.
I bore my imprisonment patiently, but could not do otherwise than blame John of Hainault for having, in some degree, forfeited his promise, and left me without hope of release. I was reflecting somewhat bitterly on the circumstance one day, when the governor of La Broyes appeared, and informed me that, on the morrow, I was to be removed from the fortress.
"And wherefore?" asked I.
"I know not," answered the governor, with a significant shake of the head.
I felt some alarm, but refrained from exhibiting any feeling. However, I made an effort to obtain information on another, and not an unimportant, point.