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His swarthy cheek and raven black hair spoke
of the fiery south, and he wore his long black cloak swathed
across his chest and over his shoulders in a graceful sweeping
fashion, which was neither English nor French. With stately
steps and many profound bows, he advanced to the foot of the dais
before replying to the prince's question.
"My powerful and illustrious master," he began, "Charles, King of
Navarre, Earl of Evreux, Count of Champagne, who also writeth
himself Overlord of Bearn, hereby sends his love and greetings to
his dear cousin Edward, the Prince of Wales, Governor of
Aquitaine, Grand Commander of----"
"Tush! tush! Don Martin!" interrupted the prince, who had been
beating the ground with his foot impatiently during this stately
preamble. "We already know our cousin's titles and style, and,
certes, we know our own. To the point, man, and at once. Are the
passes open to us, or does your master go back from his word
pledged to me at Libourne no later than last Michaelmas?"
"It would ill become my gracious master, sire, to go back from
promise given.


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