“He has teeth and claws at your service,” replied Gaston.

“Ay?” said the Squire interrogatively; then, changing his tone, “But tell me honestly, Gaston, repent you not of having taken service with gallant Sir Perduccas?”

“Why, you have left him yourself.”

“Yes, because we had sharp words on the spoil of a Navarrese village.  My present leader, Sir William Felton, is as free and easy as d’Albret, or Aymerigot Marcel himself.  And is not yon ungainly varlet the hope of some rich English house?”

“I must see their hopes meet with no downfall,” said Gaston, walking away, and muttering to himself.  “A plague upon it!  To train two boys is more than I bargained for, and over and above to hinder this wiseacre Ashton from ruining himself, or being ruined by le Borgne Basque!  What brought him here?  I thought he was safe in Castile with the Free Companions.  I would let the oaf take his course, for a wilful wrong-headed fool, but that it would scarce be doing good service to Sir Reginald.”

The Knights had nearly finished their meal, and the Squires having served them with wine, returned to their own table, now freshly supplied with meat, which the yeomen in their turn carved for them.  Gaston kept Leonard under his own eye till the party broke up.

On the way to the tent, he began to take him to task.  “A proper commencement!  Did you take the Prince’s pavilion for one of your own island hostels, where men may freely brawl and use their fists without fear of aught save the parish constable?”

“What business had he to tread on my foot?” growled Leonard.

“What business had your foot there?  Was not your office, as I told you, to stand ready to hand me whatever I might call for?”

“I was speaking a few words to another gentleman.”

“The fewer words you speak to le Borgne Basque the better, unless you think it is Sir Reginald’s pleasure that you should be instructed in all the dicing and drinking in this camp, and unless you wish that the crowns with which your father stored your pouch should jingle in his pockets.  It is well for you the Knight marked you not.”

“You held long enough parley with him yourself,” said the refractory pupil.

“Look you, Master Leonard Ashton, I do not presume to offer myself as an example to you save, perhaps, in the matter of sitting a steed, or handing a wine-cup.  I have no purse to lose, and I have wit to keep it if I had, or at least,” as a recollection crossed him, “if I lost it, it should be to please myself, and not le Borgne Basque; above all, my name and fame are made, and yours—­”

“What would you say of mine?” said Leonard, with sulky indignation.  “The heir of Ashton is not to be evened to a wandering landless foreigner.”