"And so," said I, opening the business forthwith, "it seems the queen has set out for York?"
"Assuredly," answered Copeland, "Queen Philippa, like a courageous dame and a good wife as she is, has gone northward to the war, to make sure that, in the absence of her lord the king, neither his honour nor his interest suffers."
"Ay, ay," echoed Thomelin—"a courageous dame and a good wife, in thought, word, and deed."
"Craving your pardon," said I, again addressing myself boldly to the great Northern warrior, "I am a stranger to you, and, perhaps on account of my youth, my name, unlike your own, is unknown to fame. But I am in the service of my lord the Prince of Wales, and have fought for the King of England; and I am charged with a message to the queen which I am in duty bound to deliver without delay. May I crave permission to ride northward under your protection?"
"Surely, surely, youth," answered Copeland cheerily. "Blithe will I be of your company. You can beguile the way, which is long, with stories of what you have seen and done in the wars of France, and, maybe, strike a good blow in case of any enemies turning up as an obstacle in our path."
"Well," said I, with a smile, "it would ill become one whose name is unknown to boast in the presence of a warrior so distinguished as yourself; but this much, at least, I will say in my own praise, that I fought, without flinching, at the gates of Caen, and on the field of Cressy, not to mention the ford of Blanch-taque; and I have yet to learn that I have lost courage since that day when Englishmen won a battle that will be recorded by chroniclers, and performed exploits that will be celebrated by minstrels."
"Enough," said Copeland, smiling at my youthful enthusiasm. "We will take the road northward on the morrow, and, where we are going, you'll find foes enough on whom to exercise your valour, and foes, too, who are worthy of a brave man's steel, be he knight, or squire, or page; for credit me, who have long known them, and who love them not, that—be the Scots good or bad in other respects—they fight bravely and well."
"Ho, ho!" exclaimed I, "that is something I have learned by meeting you. Methought that, at Halidon, they fled from our king and his men as deer before the hunters."
"So they did," replied the squire; "but it's not their wont; and, let me tell you, they fight not the worse from being away from their own country, and having some plunder to fight for. They are little inconvenienced by long marches. In fact, when they make irruptions into England, they march from twenty to four-and-twenty leagues, without halting, as well by night as by day."