If I Were King | Page 4

the eyrie?" he whispered, and his companion answered him in
the same low tone, "This is the Fircone Tavern, sire." The other's finger
was lifted to his lip at once in warning. "Hush, gossip, hush," he
muttered. "No title now, I beg of you. Here I am not Louis of France,
but a simple sober citizen like yourself. I suppose we must take
something for the good of the house?" His henchman promptly replied

that such action was indispensable. But Louis still looked doubtful.
"Will the liquor be very detestable," he asked, inserting two thin fingers
in the black pouch at his belt. Tristan shook his head. "Nay, you can get
good wine here if you know how to ask for it--and how to pay for it."
"No one knows better than I how to ask for anything," chuckled the
king. "Or worse, how to for it," Tristan sneered. The king scowled at
him. "Then, why do you keep my service?" he snapped. Tristan
shrugged his shoulders. "Some dregs of devotion, I suppose. Here
stands Master Innkeeper." For by this time Robin Turgis was at their
elbow, scanning them narrowly with his small, pig--like eyes that could
make little, however, of the well-muffled faces. He waited on their
order with a kind of ferocious submission, draining his rank forehead
with a sweep of his dirty palm.
"Friend," said Louis, sniffing sardonically at the too odoriferous
personality of the taverner, "you behold here two decent cits who have
turned a penny, or twain in a bargain, and have a mind to wet their
whistles in consequence. Have you aught to offer that is good alike for
purse and palate?"
Robin Turgis nodded his round head and fondled his round stomach.
"We have a white wine of Beaune," he said unctuously, as if he were
tasting the wares he commended, "at two sols the flagon that is noble
drinking."
The king's sense of economy shivered at the sum; as if it had been a
wound.
"Pasques-Dieu!" he stammered. "So it should be at the price." Robin
Turgis remained unmoved: Tristan clinched the business. "Bring it," he
said decisively, and as the landlord shambled away towards his cellar,
Tristan met the king's condemnatory frown squarely.
"I wear out my hands and feet in your service," lie said, "I want to save
my throat and stomach."
Louis made no answer and was mournfully silent until the obese

landlord returned with the much-vaunted vintage, which he set down
on the table with a brace of goblets. Louis fumbled with reluctant
fingers in his pouch, extracted the exact amount necessary for payment
and dropped it into the fat paw of Robin Turgis. But Robin lingered and
Louis looking at him in surprise met the admonishing glare of Tristan.
"Give him a penny for himself," Tristan whispered, and the king, with
an unwillingness he was at no pains to conceal, added the demanded
drink-money to the other coins, and eyed the departing back of the
landlord with well-defined aversion. "You are generous with other
people's pennies, friend," he snapped at his companion, but Tristan,
paying no heed to his querulousness, filled the two cups with the clear
golden liquid and thrust one of them under the nose of the sulky
monarch. Its fine dry fragrance soothed Louis; he took a deep sip and
was mollified; another and he had forgiven if not forgotten his
generosity. He winked at Tristan amiably over the rim of the goblet.
"This is seeing life, friend Tristan," he murmured, contentedly,
stretching his thin legs in delicious ease. But Tristan was in no holiday
humour.
"Let's hope it mayn't be seeing death, friend Louis" he snorted. "There
are a couple of rogues in that covey who would spit you or split you or
slit you for the price of a drink."
Louis laughed affably. "And no such cheap bargain," he commented,
"seeing what wine costs here. But this is an interesting business."
Tristan would concede nothing to the king's good-humour. "Where's
the interest?" he asked. "A few bullies, bawds and bonarobas boozing
together. You can keep the same company at court--only a shade
cleaner--and not be out of pocket for the privilege either."
The king's mouth puckered in appreciation of some memory. He leaned
forward and touched Tristan's sleeve.
"Gossip Tristan, there is at my court a scholar who told me an Eastern
tale."
"Pray God it be a gay one such as your majesty loves,"

"Hush, man; no 'Majesty' here. 'Tis of an Eastern King, one Haroun,
surnamed, as I shall be surnamed, The Just."
Tristan grunted sceptically, but Louis, ignoring the ejaculation, went
on.
"It was his pastime to go about Bagdad of nights in disguise, and
mingling with his people learn much to the advantage of the realm. I
am following his example,