“And pray, worthy Seignior,” said the royal tonsor, looking at him from under his eyelids, “what might your reason be for calling the muster roll on such occasions?”
“Because the Captain commanded me,” said Le Balafre. “By Saint Giles [patron saint of lepers, beggars, and cripples. He has been especially venerated in England and Scotland], I know no other reason! If he had commanded Tyrie or Cunningham, they must have done the same.”
“A most military final cause!” said Oliver. “But, Seignior Le Balafre, you will be glad, doubtless, to learn that his Majesty is so far from being displeased with your nephew's conduct, that he hath selected him to execute a piece of duty this afternoon.”
“Selected him?” said Balafre in great surprise—“selected me, I suppose you mean?”
“I mean precisely as I speak,” replied the barber, in a mild but decided tone; “the King hath a commission with which to intrust your nephew.”
“Why, wherefore, and for what reason?” said Balafre. “Why doth he choose the boy, and not me?”
“I can go no farther back than your own ultimate cause, Seignior Le Balafre, such are his Majesty's commands. But,” said he, “if I might use the presumption to form a conjecture, it may be his Majesty hath work to do, fitter for a youth like your nephew, than for an experienced warrior like yourself, Seignior Balafre.—Wherefore, young gentleman, get your weapons and follow me. Bring with you a harquebuss, for you are to mount sentinel.”
“Sentinel!” said the uncle. “Are you sure you are right, Master Oliver? The inner guards of the Castle have ever been mounted by those only who have (like me) served twelve years in our honourable body.”
“I am quite certain of his Majesty's pleasure,” said Oliver, “and must no longer delay executing it.”
“But,” said Le Balafre, “my nephew is not even a free Archer, being only an Esquire, serving under my lance.”