PAGE 2
Bertrand Du Guesclin
by
“When a good knight is made prisoner in fair feat of arms,” he said, “and sworn to abide prisoner, he should on no account depart without his master’s leave. But one should not demand such portion of his substance in ransom as to leave him unable to equip himself again.”
The Sire de Lebret, who was friendly to Du Guesclin, answered,–
“Noble sire, be not angry if I relate what I have heard said of you in your absence.”
“By my faith,” said the prince, “right little should I love follower of mine, sitting at my table, if he heard a word said against my honor and apprised me not of it.”
“Sire,” answered he of Lebret, “men say that you hold in prison a knight whose name I well know, whom you dare not deliver.”
“That is true,” broke in Oliver de Clisson; “I have heard the same said.”
The prince heard them with a countenance that reddened with anger.
“I know no knight in the world,” he declared, “who, if he were my prisoner, I would not put to a fair ransom, according to his ability.”
“How, then, do you forget Bertrand du Guesclin?” said Lebret.
The prince doubly changed color on hearing this. He felt himself fairly caught, and, after a minute’s indecision, he gave orders that Bertrand should be brought before him.
The knights who went in search found Bertrand talking with his chamberlain, as a relief to his weariness.
“You are come in good time,” he said to his visitors, and bade the chamberlain bring wine.
“It is fitting that we should have good and strong wine,” said one of the knights, “for we bring you good and pleasant tidings, with the best of good-will.”
“The prince has sent us for you,” said another. “We think you will be ransomed by the help of the many friends you have in court.”
“What say you?” answered Bertrand. “I have not a half-penny to my purse, and owe more than ten thousand livres in this city, which have been lent me since I have been held prisoner here. I cannot well ask more from my friends.”
“How have you got rid of so much?” asked one of his visitors.
“I can easily answer for that,” said Bertrand, with a laugh. “I have eaten, drunk, given, and played at dice. A little money is soon spent. But that matters not; if once free I shall soon pay it. He who, for my help, lends me the keys of his money, has it in the best of keeping.”
“Sir, you are stout-hearted,” answered an officer. “It seems to you that everything which you would have must happen.”
“By my faith, you are right,” said Bertrand, heartily. “In my view a dispirited man is a beaten and discomfited one.”
“Surely there is enchantment in your blood,” rejoined the officer, “for you seem proof against every shock.”
Leaving Bertrand’s chamber, they sought that in which was the prince and his companions. The prisoner was dressed in a rough gray coat, and bore himself with manly ease and assurance. The prince laughed pleasantly on seeing him.
“Well, Bertrand, how are you?” he asked.
“Sir, when it shall please you, I may fare better,” answered Bertrand, bowing slightly. “Many a day have I heard the rats and mice, but it is long since I have heard the song of birds. I shall hear them when it is your pleasure.”
“That shall be when you will, Bertrand,” said the prince. “I require you only to swear never to bear arms against me nor these with me, nor to assist Henry of Spain. If you consent to this, we shall set you free, pay your debts, and give ten thousand florins to equip you anew. If you refuse, you shall not go.”
“Then, sir,” answered Bertrand, proudly, “my deliverance will not come to pass, for before I do this, may I lie chained by the leg in prison while I live. With God’s will, I shall never be a reproach to my friends, but shall serve with my whole heart the good king of France, and the noble dukes of Anjou, Berry, Burgundy, and Bourbon, whose subject I have been. But, so please you, worthy prince, suffer me to go. You have held me too long in prison, wrongfully and without cause. Had I been free I had intended to go from France, to work out my salvation by fighting the Saracens.”