"We will not hear them questioned!" was the universal cry of the Archers.
"Ye are mad, my masters," said Tristan l'Hermite – "No one disputes your privileges; but this youth is not one of you."
"He is my nephew," said the Balafré, with a triumphant air.
"But no Archer of the Guard, I think," retorted Tristan l'Hermite.
The Archers looked on each other in some uncertainty.
"Stand to it yet, comrade," whispered Cunningham to Balafré – "Say he is engaged with us."
"Saint Martin! you say well, fair countryman," answered Lesly; and, raising his voice, swore that he had that day enrolled his kinsman as one of his own retinue.
This declaration was a decisive argument.
"It is well, gentlemen," said the Provost Tristan, who was aware of the King's nervous apprehension of disaffection creeping in among his Guards – "You know, as you say, your privileges, and it is not my duty to have brawls with the King's Guards, if it is to be avoided. But I will report this matter for the King's own decision; and I would have you to be aware, that, in doing so, I act more mildly than perhaps my duty warrants me."
So saying, he put his troop into motion, while the Archers, remaining on the spot, held a hasty consultation what was next to be done.