Dubois’s horse overshadowed him, but Bertrand held his ground.
“Well, what of Mivoie?”
“You broke troth, sir.”
“And if I did?”
“You stand to be judged by any two of those whom you deserted; so run the Marshal’s orders. As for this head—well, it is Croquart’s, and it has been noised abroad that you were Croquart’s man.”
“I Croquart’s man! By Heaven, a lie!”
His sturdy scorn flew full in the face of Geoffroi Dubois. It was then that Carro de Bodegat stood forward, precise, courteous, and insolently suave.
“By your leave, gentlemen, I will ask Messire Bertrand du Guesclin a few questions.”
“Ask on.” And Bertrand held his head high and squared his shoulders.
“Come, sweet sir, why should we quarrel? You were not at Mivoie; good; and why?”