The stifled laugh which ran around the board showed that, in the opinion of all present, the bully’s insolence had been well requited; but Canterbury’s sun-browned face glowed like heated iron, and he broke out fiercely—
“Whoso dares speak in the same breath of thieves and Englishmen, I defy him to——”
“Sir Thomas,” said the duke, sternly, “hast thou forgot at whose table thou sittest? Who gave thee leave to set thyself up as England’s champion, when thy king’s son is here in presence? I counsel thee to rein up thy brawling humour, lest I curb it for thee!”
“Nay,” said Du Guesclin, “let not your highness be wroth with this good knight, if he be minded to bid me to a friendly trial of manhood. It grieves me much that I cannot pleasure him, having promised my liege lady to fight no combat this day; and if any man hath a mind to think Bertrand Du Guesclin a coward for that cause, e’en let him.”
“If any man speak so of thee in my hearing, noble Sir Bertrand,” cried John of Gaunt, “I will myself challenge him to the combat, and will so deal with him that he shall never offend in such wise again.”
“I heartily thank your highness; but lest I be held a niggard by this good knight, in seeming to shun the cheer he offereth me, I will pray your courtesy to let each of us strike one blow on helm or mail in all good fellowship, that so we may in some sort prove each other’s might, even if we cannot do so blade to blade.”
The duke (to whose chivalrous spirit this offer was just suited) agreed at once. Two helmets, the strongest that could be found, were placed on two stout blocks at the tent door; and the whole party trooped out to watch the trial.
“Strike thou the first blow, good Sir Thomas,” said Bertrand; “it is what thou art ever wont to do.”
“I thank your courtesy, fair sir,” said the Englishman, who, finding himself treated with such studied courtesy after all his rudeness, was beginning to feel ashamed of it.
Down came his axe, cleaving the tempered steel like paper, and biting so deep into the hard block as well-nigh to hew it in twain. A shout of applause greeted the stroke, and Bertrand said with his usual frankness—
“Well stricken, gallant sir! He who would match thee runneth sore risk of being shamed; but, for the honour of Bretagne, I will e’en try my fortune.”