“We will hear thee, man—we will hear thee instantly,” said the King. Then, touching Blondel's shoulder kindly, he added, “That is, if thou art not fatigued with thy journey; for I would sooner ride my best horse to death than injure a note of thy voice.”
“My voice is, as ever, at the service of my royal patron,” said Blondel; “but your Majesty,” he added, looking at some papers on the table, “seems more importantly engaged, and the hour waxes late.”
“Not a whit, man, not a whit, my dearest Blondel. I did but sketch an array of battle against the Saracens, a thing of a moment, almost as soon done as the routing of them.”
“Methinks, however,” said Thomas de Vaux, “it were not unfit to inquire what soldiers your Grace hath to array. I bring reports on that subject from Ascalon.”
“Thou art a mule, Thomas,” said the King—“a very mule for dullness and obstinacy! Come, nobles—a hall—a hall—range ye around him! Give Blondel the tabouret. Where is his harp-bearer?—or, soft, lend him my harp, his own may be damaged by the journey.”
“I would your Grace would take my report,” said Thomas de Vaux. “I have ridden far, and have more list to my bed than to have my ears tickled.”
“THY ears tickled!” said the King; “that must be with a woodcock's feather, and not with sweet sounds. Hark thee, Thomas, do thine ears know the singing of Blondel from the braying of an ass?”
“In faith, my liege,” replied Thomas, “I cannot well say; but setting Blondel out of the question, who is a born gentleman, and doubtless of high acquirements, I shall never, for the sake of your Grace's question, look on a minstrel but I shall think upon an ass.”
“And might not your manners,” said Richard, “have excepted me, who am a gentleman born as well as Blondel, and, like him, a guild-brother of the joyeuse science?”
“Your Grace should remember,” said De Vaux, smiling, “that 'tis useless asking for manners from a mule.”