“Fear nothing,” said Bourbon. “I will be answerable for your safety.”
As he spoke, a number of Spanish soldiers burst into the tent, shouting out, “Death to Lannoy! Death to the Pope's general!”
“How dare you force your way thus into my presence?” cried Bourbon, confronting them fiercely, and speaking in a stern authoritative tone. “Hence, mutinous rascals, or you shall be punished.”
“Deliver up the Viceroy to us, and we will go at once,” said the foremost of the band.
“Ha! dare you parley with me?” cried Bourbon.
“Away, I say, at once, or——”
On this the soldiers retired, but they cast menacing glances at Lannoy as they went, and the tumult outside the tent continued.
“It would have been well if your highness had ascertained the disposition of the army before venturing among them,” remarked Von Frundsberg. “They will not be balked of their plunder.”
“Your highness has promised me your protection,” said Lannoy, appealing to Bourbon.
“Fear nothing,” replied the other. “I will see you safely out of the camp. Come with me!”