King Henry smiled in his beard when Rosny presented me to him, but heard me soberly enough when I gave him Hilary Rawdon’s message, to wit, that the Duke of Mayenne was drawing nigh with twenty-five thousand foot and eight thousand horse to give him battle. "What shall we do against so great a host with our poor three thousand?" said the King to Marshal Biron that stood by. "Ventre-saint-gris! Is it not hard to be a king without a kingdom, a husband without a wife, and a warrior without money?" Here Rosny said that I had more to tell, and the King, pursing his lips so that his long nose seemed to touch his chin, bade me say on. I told him of my seeing the light, and of all that followed thereafter, saving only the matter of my wound, and when I had done, he said sharply between his teeth— "Well, what then?" (His words in truth were "_Mais encore?_" but ’tis meet I turn French into English in telling my story now.) "I know no more, Sire," I said in answer, "but I suspect the men I saw were Leaguers, and were plotting secretly to seize your person, or to do some other mischief, and ’twere well to send a party to take them, or if that be too late, to go not from the camp without a strong guard." "What!" cries the King; "shall I cage myself like a song-bird, or tether myself like a drudging ass? Ventre-saint-gris! my dear friends have already counselled me that I seek refuge speedily in your country; but I tell you that while I continue at the head of even a handful of Frenchmen, such counsel ’tis impossible for me to follow. As for plots, a fig for them all! Did I not listen but yesterday to a tale of a plot, as shadowy as yours? There may be such plots afoot; let there be. The assassin of my late cousin will not lack of imitators. But shall we start at shadows, or flee like a cook-wench at sight of a mouse? The men you saw, as like as not, were bandits, discoursing on the spoils they expect to reap from the ambushing of some rich Churchman. Plots! I am aweary of the word." This reception was so little like what I had looked for that I felt abashed and, I own, somewhat ruffled also. The King’s courage was known of all men, but I hold that to neglect a warning is not courage, but mere foolhardiness. While I was meditating whether I should urge the matter, the King suddenly hailed a burly man that was riding slowly a few short paces from his tent. "Hola, Lameray," he said, "send a dozen men to the château of St Aubyn-le-cauf—which is beyond doubt the place of your adventure, Master Rudd—and seize any man you find therein. Master Rudd will tell you more at large," and with that he turned away, jesting with Rosny. The man whom the King had called Lameray dismounted from his horse, which I perceived to be much bespattered with mud, and coming towards me with a sort of roll in his gait, he said, in a full, harsh voice— "Master Rudd will tell me more at large?"