“Lord, as you know, the barons there have wars of their own! But I played upon a time in a hall where afterwards I listened to the talk of knights. It seemed to me that they inclined to Roche-de-Frêne. But what do I know?”
“Did any speak of me?”
“Lord, one was talking with a great merchant of Italy who was present. He said, ‘There is a bold captain of Burgundy, Gaultier Cap-du-Loup, with Montmaure. He had been wiser, methinks, to have taken his sword to Roche-de-Frêne! If Aquitaine drops off—’”
“Wait there!” cried Cap-du-Loup. “What colour did they give for Aquitaine ceasing from us?”
“None, lord, that I heard. I heard no more,” said Elias, “for I went out in the night to give my sister bread.”
“Jean the foolish giant has said that you went first from Limousin to Our Lady of Roche-de-Frêne. When were you in Roche-de-Frêne?”
“Lord, at Pentecost, before the siege began.”
“What did you think, jongleur, of that town and castle?”
Cap-du-Loup looked at what he spoke of, lifted before them, shimmering in the light. Montmaure was attacking at the eastern gate. A noise as of dull thunder rolled over the plain.
“Lord,” said the jongleur, “there are fellows of my art, who, to please, would say ‘a poor town and a trembling castle!’ But I think that you are not such an one, but a man who greets with valiancy bare truth! To my apprehension, lord, it seemed a great town and a strong castle.”