“Glen Houlakin,” answered Quentin good humouredly, “which is to say the Glen of the Midges, is the name of our ancient patrimony, my good sir. You have bought the right to laugh at the sound, if you please.”
“I have not the least intention to offend,” said the old man; “but I was about to say, since you like your present meal so well, that the Scottish Archers of the guard eat as good a one, or a better, every day.”
“No wonder,” said Durward; “for if they be shut up in the swallows' nests all night, they must needs have a curious appetite in the morning.”
“And plenty to gratify it upon,” said Maitre Pierre. “They need not, like the Burgundians, choose a bare back, that they may have a full belly—they dress like counts, and feast like abbots.”
“It is well for them,” said Durward.
“And wherefore will you not take service here, young man? Your uncle might, I dare say, have you placed on the file when there should a vacancy occur. And, hark in your ear, I myself have some little interest, and might be of some use to you. You can ride, I presume, as well as draw the bow?”
“Our race are as good horsemen as ever put a plated shoe into a steel stirrup; and I know not but I might accept of your kind offer. Yet, look you, food and raiment are needful things, but, in my case, men think of honour, and advancement, and brave deeds of arms. Your King Louis—God bless him, for he is a friend and ally of Scotland—but he lies here in this castle, or only rides about from one fortified town to another; and gains cities and provinces by politic embassies, and not in fair fighting. Now, for me, I am of the Douglases' mind, who always kept the fields, because they loved better to hear the lark sing than the mouse squeak.”
“Young man,” said Maitre Pierre, “do not judge too rashly of the actions of sovereigns. Louis seeks to spare the blood of his subjects, and cares not for his own. He showed himself a man of courage at Montl'hery.”
“Ay, but that was some dozen years ago or more,” answered the youth—“I should like to follow a master that would keep his honour as bright as his shield, and always venture foremost in the very throng of the battle.”
“Why did you not tarry at Brussels, then, with the Duke of Burgundy? He would put you in the way to have your bones broken every day; and, rather than fail, would do the job for you himself—especially if he heard that you had beaten his forester.”