In Kings' Byways

by Stanley John Weyman

We had still ample time to reach the Chateau by nightfall, but before proceeding farther it was necessary that our horses should have rest. Dismounting I bade La Trape see the sorrel well baited. The inn was a poor place; but having no choice, I entered it and found myself in a large room better furnished with company than accommodation. Three men, who appeared to be of those reckless blades who are commonly to be found in the inns on the outskirts of Paris, and who come not unfrequently to their ends at Montfaucon, were tippling and playing cards at a table near the door. They looked up on my entrance, but refrained from saluting me, which, as I was plainly dressed, and much travel-stained, was excusable. By the fire, partaking of a coarse meal, sat a fourth man of so singular an appearance that I must needs describe him. He was of great height and extreme leanness, resembling a maypole rather than a man. His face matched his form, for it was long and meagre, and terminated in a small peaked beard, which like his hair and moustachios was as white as snow. With all this his eyes glowed with something of the fire of youth, and his brown complexion and sinewy hands seemed to indicate robust health. He wore garments which had once been fashionable, but now bore marks of much patching, and I remarked that the point of his sword, which, as he sat, trailed on the stones behind him, had worn its way through the scabbard. Notwithstanding these signs of poverty he saluted me with the ease of a gentleman, and bade me with some stiffness share his table and the fire. Accordingly I drew up, and called for a bottle of the best wine, being minded to divert myself with him.

I was little prepared, however, for the turn his conversation took, or the tirade into which he presently broke; the object of which proved to be no other than myself! I do not know that I have ever cut so whimsical a figure as while I sat and heard my name loaded with reproaches; but being certain that he did not know me I waited patiently, and soon learned both who he was, and the grievance which he was about to lay before the King. His name was Boisrosé. He had been the leader in that gallant capture of Fécamp, which took place while I represented his Majesty in Normandy, and his grievance was, that in the face of many promises he had been deprived of the government of the place. "He leads the King by the ear!" he cried loudly, and in an accent which marked him for a Gascon. "That villain of a De Rosny! But I will shew him up! I will trounce him! If the King will not, I will!" And with that he drew the hilt of his long rapier to the front with a gesture so truculent that the three bullies who had stopped to laugh resumed their game in haste.

Notwithstanding his sentiments, I was pleased to meet with a man of so singular a temper, whom I also knew to be courageous: and I was willing to amuse myself further. "But," I said modestly, "I have had some affairs with M. de Rosny, and I have never found him cheat me."

"Do not deceive yourself!" he cried, slapping the table. "He is a rascal! There is no one he will not cheat!"

"Yet," I ventured to reply, "I have heard that in many respects he is not a bad minister."

"He is a villain!" he repeated so loudly as to drown what I would have added. "A villain, sir, a villain! Do not tell me otherwise! But rest assured! I will make the King see him in his true colours! Rest content, sir! I will trounce him! He has to do with Armand de Boisrosé!"

Seeing that he was not open to argument—for being opposed he grew warm—I asked him by what channel he intended to approach the King, and learned that here he felt a difficulty, since he had neither a friend at Court, nor money to buy one. Certain that the narrative of our rencontre and its sequel would amuse his Majesty, who loved a jest, I advised Boisrosé to go boldly to the King, and speak to him; which, thanking me as profusely as he had before reproached me, he avowed he would do. With that I rose.

At the last moment, and as I was parting from him, it occurred to me to try upon him the shibboleth which in Father Cotton's mouth had so mystified me. "This fire burns brightly," I said, kicking the logs together with my riding-boot. "It must be of boxwood."

"Of what, sir?" he asked politely.

"Of boxwood! Why not?" I replied in a louder tone.