The King's Esquires; Or, The Jewel of FranceFenn, George Manville
History
The King's Esquires; Or, The Jewel of France
Fenn, George Manville
France -- History -- Francis I, 1515-1547 -- Fiction
A short time later, the dull aching pain seemed to have passed
completely out of the injured shoulder, and after a few words evincing
his gratitude, which Leoni received with a rather cynical smile, they
passed together, led by their new young friend, into the long low
dining-hall of the house, where the King, in company with Saint Simon,
both apparently none the worse for the previous night's experience, was
impatiently waiting, and conversing with his host, a tall grey-bearded
man of sixty, whose aspect told at once that he was father to the youth
who ushered in the injured lad.
"Let me introduce my son, my lord," said Sir John. "Ned, my boy, this
is Comte de la Seine, a French nobleman about to visit your royal
master's Court. My lord, my fighting days have long been over, and I
only serve my King now with my counsel; but he has honoured me by
accepting the service of my only son for his father's sake, and has made
him, young as he is, one of the King's esquires."
"And a brave one too, I'll warrant," said Francis, holding out his hand,
quite forgetful of his new character as a travelling nobleman, for his
host's heir to kiss.
He winced slightly, his face twitched, and an ejaculation nearly passed
his lips, while the sinister look on Master Leoni's countenance deepened
as he half closed his eyes, at heart enjoying the scene; for the youth
advanced with the frank, manly courtesy of a young Englishman, and
instead of bending over and kissing, courtier-like, the extended hand,
he took it and shook it with a hearty grip.
"I am glad to know my father's guest, my lord," he said. "It was not
from want of respect that I was not here before. I have been with your
esquire.--He was badly hurt yesterday, father; he mustn't go on. You
must keep him here for days, till we have set him right."
"Gladly, my boy," cried Sir John, "if his lordship will honour my poor
home with his presence."
"Oh no, no," said the King shortly. "Why, Denis, boy, you are not so
bad as that. Here, Master Leoni, what have you to say?"
"That he must rest two or three days at least, sir. His arm is badly
wrenched, and he is not fit to sit a horse."
"But he sat one bravely enough last night," cried the King.--"But, Sir
John, are all your roads like this? If the people we passed last night
could have had their way you would have no guests to throw themselves
upon your kindness, for we should have been lying somewhere in the
forest to feed the English crows. But there, we have kept you waiting
long enough," and he made a gesture towards the well-spread board.
Sir John raised his eyebrows slightly, for his visitor's imperious,
authoritative way impressed him unfavourably. But no suspicion of his
status occurred to him then, and directly after he was busily employed
doing the honours of his table, the good things spread thereon soon
having a mollifying influence upon his guest, whose autocratic ways
became less prominent under the influence of a most enjoyable meal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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