Adventure stories; British -- Spain -- Fiction; Swordsmen -- Fiction
By these means the blood was restored to the King’s countenance and
animation to his eyes, and it was plain to see that rumour had not
belied this ambitious prince. His features were those of an eagle,
with a noble fire in the glance and a proud disdain. And in spite of
his recent distresses and this present pass, that must have irked him
to the soul, he bore himself most scrupulously in accordance with his
lineage. With the frank courtesy of the high-born, he thanked the Count
of Nullepart and myself for our services; and, with a somewhat rueful
smile, he was good enough to say that had it been known to him that his
aged Uncle Roldan was able to gather such skilful minds about him, he
would have conducted his campaign with a less degree of levity.
The King then asked of the English robber. He asked whether we were
the countrymen and good friends of that formidable adventurer. And
when we had answered the King that although we were far from being the
countrymen of the redoubtable Sir Richard Pendragon, yet were his good
servants in all that he pleased to command us, the King laughed.
“Ods blood!” said the King, “that English thief is the most
accomplished villain in Spain. I wonder he did not cut my throat while
he was upon his work; yet doubtless the rascal is wise to bait his hook
with a live fish.”
“By your gracious leave and forgiveness, sire,” said the Count of
Nullepart, in his charming manner, “doubtless he was fain to believe
that a bag full of live royalty is of better account when it comes to
the terms of a treaty than a bag full of dead bones.”
“Yes, sir,” said the King, with sombre eyes, “that was doubtless his
argument.”
When the King had supped he reposed for an hour; and in that period
the Count of Nullepart and I were able to doff our peasants’ disguise
and to satisfy our hunger. Then came Don Luiz to inform us that his
lordship’s grace and the Countess Sylvia would receive the royal
prisoner.
The King’s limbs were still so sore and constrained that he could
not walk without a great deal of assistance. Thus he entered the
audience-chamber leaning heavily upon the Count of Nullepart and myself.
We found our mistress seated, in the fashion of a royal queen, upon the
daïs at the end of the apartment. By her side, yet in a sensibly lower
place, was his lordship’s grace, who was fast asleep with a backgammon
board before him. He had been engaged in a game with the dwarf, who was
now mumping and mowing from a corner, for he durst not show himself
much to the Lady Sylvia.
In my travels through all parts of the world I have looked much upon
female beauty. My gaze has been ensnared by the fair of many lands, yet
never, I think, has it beheld a figure to compare with that of noble
fire and queenly splendour that now greeted us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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