“Kicked,” quoth the fat man, “and were royally toe-plugged for our pains.”
Bertrand slipped the jesses and shook the falcon from his wrist. He opened his arms to the two men, and Messire Bertrand du Guesclin might have been seen embracing the two vagabonds like brothers.
“Assuredly,” he said, “that harper friend of yours told lies.”
“Captain!”
“I fought at Mivoie, but not in my own arms.”
“Captain! captain!”
“All Brittany will soon know the truth.”
“St. Ives du Guesclin!” And Guicheaux threw his cap into the air, sprang at Hopart, and smote him an open-handed smack across the chest.
“Bully Hopart, bully Hopart, we must get drunk on this—or die!”
And they gripped hands and danced round Bertrand like a couple of clowns at a fair.