Chapter 6 Chapter 6 The Bohemians

When he went, he was noisy and mighty, When he came to the gallows, he jumped and danced a circle! "Old Ballad" Quentin.What Darwilt received was not an education that could improve moral sentiments and make people kind-hearted.Through upbringing and training, he and the rest of his family have been accustomed to regard hunting as a kind of entertainment and war as their only serious occupation, and the meaning of their life is to endure tenaciously and then revenge fiercely A feud that brought their family to the brink of extinction.But there is also a primitive chivalry mixed with revenge, even courtesy, which softens the cruelty in their hearts.Therefore, while carrying out just acts of vengeance, they still have due regard to the principles of humanity and generosity.The teachings of the venerable old friar to Davelt, perhaps because they are more acceptable in the adversity of long illness than in health and prosperity, naturally made him more conscious of his own generosity.Considering the ignorance and general predilection for the military life of the time, and his own education, the young man was indeed more conscious of the duties of a soldier than any other.

Recalling the meeting with his uncle, he felt both embarrassed and deeply disappointed.He had had high hopes, for, although communication was impossible at the time, sometimes a pilgrim, an adventurous merchant, or a disabled soldier would bring Leslie's illustrious name to Gran-Hurajin.All of them commended Leslie for his intrepid courage and achievement in the mundane task entrusted to him by the King of France.Quentin's imagination, too, had pictured his uncle in its own way, and regarded his successful uncle in his adventurous career (whose feats of war are perhaps fully recounted) as winning the crown by the sword, Become a son-in-law, a knight-errant warrior praised by troubadours.But now he had to admit that he was just a lowly knight.However, blinded by his respect for his parents and their relatives, his early affection for his uncle, his inexperience, and his fond memory of his dead mother, he naturally failed to see his only brother, his mother. The real role played is an ordinary mercenary, not much different from the many mercenaries who fueled the unrest in France.

Le Balafrey, though not exclusively cruel, was indifferent to human life and suffering.He is very ignorant, greedy for the spoils by any means, and spends money to satisfy his selfish desires.The habit of looking out for his own interests and needs has made him one of the most selfish animals in the world.As the reader has noted, it is impossible for him to think deeply about any subject without considering whether it is good for him, or, as they say, without putting his ego into it.However, he is not based on the golden rule of thinking and feeling, but very different.Moreover, the narrow range of his duties and pleasures had gradually restricted his thoughts and aspirations, and extinguished in a great measure the sense of honor and desire for merit which had animated his youth.In conclusion, Le Balafrey was a formidable soldier, ruthless, selfish, and narrow-minded; he carried out his duties vigorously and boldly, apart from being loyal to the king, and occasionally with his friend and confessor Boniface. Brothers don't admit that they have more purpose in life than just hanging out.Had he had more talent, perhaps he would have been promoted to a great command, for the king, who knew every guard, had confidence in the courage and fidelity of Le Barafrey, and the Scot was wise enough to There was also enough cunning to fully understand the king's special tastes and be able to cater to him.However, his talents were too limited to be promoted, and although he was on many occasions favored and favored by King Louis, Le Balafrey remained only a bodyguard, or Scotch archer, as they are called.

Quentin didn't see the whole picture of his uncle, and he couldn't help being surprised by his indifference when he heard that his brother-in-law's family had died.He was also surprised that such a close relative as himself did not give him any financial help.Had it not been for the generosity of Monsieur Pierre, he would have been compelled to ask him directly for alms.But it would also be a wrong to him to attribute the negligence of his nephew's urgent needs to his uncle's greed.Le Balafrey, since he was not short of money, did not expect his nephew to be in need of it.Otherwise, a man who valued his relatives as much as he did would do his best for his living nephew as much as he did for the happiness of his dead sister and brother-in-law.Whatever the cause and motive, however, young Darwilt was not pleased with this omission.He regretted more than once that he had not remained in the duke's service in Burgundy before his quarrel with the ranger.At that time, no matter what my situation was, he thought, I could cheer up when I thought that I had a relative who supported me like my uncle as a last resort.Now I have seen him.Fuck him, even my mother's brother, a countryman, a knight, did not help me as much as a strange craftsman.People have reason to believe that the knife cut off all his beauty, but at the same time, he also lost all the noble qualities in his blood!

Darwilt regretted that he had not had the opportunity to mention Monsieur Pierre to Le Balafrey in order to learn more about him.At that time, his uncle asked him questions one after another, and the bell of Saint-Martin Church in Tours suddenly interrupted their encounter.He recalled that although the old man looked stubborn and surly, and his words were harsh, his actions were generous.A stranger like that is indeed worth a cold kinship, what does our Scottish proverb mean?Better to be a kind stranger than an estranged relative. (Original note: Better a kind stranger than an estranged relative is a motto engraved on a short sword. The owner of the short sword thought up this practice for good reason. He gifted the short sword to my father .The contact of this short sword will tell a strange set of adventure stories, which may be told to readers someday. The short sword is now in my collection.) I will go to him.Since he was a rich man, as the shopkeeper said, I should have no trouble finding him.He'd at least come up with some good ideas to point me to.If he went abroad as often as many rich men do, I think it would be as risky to be his bodyguard as it is to be King Louis.

When Quentin was thinking this way, in his subconscious, or in the depths of his heart that hides secrets that he does not want to admit, a voice quietly sounded: Maybe the girl in the tower, the mistress of the veil and lute Join him on that adventurous journey. The young Scottish man was thinking like this when he saw two solemn-looking people walking towards him, who could be identified as citizens of Tours at a glance.He took off his hat with the respect due to a young man to his elders, and respectfully begged them to take him to Monsieur Pierre's. Good boy, whose house are you taking me to?One of the old men said.

Go to the house of Monsieur Pierre, a great silk merchant, who grows the mulberry trees in the park over there.Darwilt said. Young man, said the one nearer to him, you are prematurely engaged in a dull trade. And you've chosen the wrong people to be the ones you're deceiving.The one farther from him said more rudely that the magistrate of Tours was not used to having foreign clowns speak to him in this way. Seeing that a simple and polite question offended two decent gentlemen for no reason, Quentin was very surprised, and forgot to express his indignation at their rude answer, but just stared at their backs, seeing them quicken their pace and leave. Going, looking back at him from time to time, seems to want to get rid of the harm he may bring as soon as possible.

Then he met a group of vine trimmers, and he asked them about it again.They asked him whether he was looking for Monsieur Pierre the headmaster, or Monsieur Pierre the carpenter, or Monsieur Pierre the bailiff?Of course there were half a dozen other Monsieur Pierre.But none of these people matched what he was looking for.The peasants then accused him of being vexatious, and threatened to throw him to the ground in retaliation for teasing them.The older farmer might have some prestige among them, but he managed to keep them from doing it. Look at his talk and his clown hat, he said, and you'll know he's a foreign charlatan.Some say they are magicians, fortune tellers, others call them jugglers, etc.No one knows what ghosts are in their stomachs.I've heard of a man who bet a crook that he'd eat grapes till his belly burst in a poor man's vineyard.As a result, he ate enough grapes to fill a cart, but he didn't even have to undo a single button to loosen his clothes.We'd better let him go quietly.He goes his way, we go ours.My friend, if you want to avoid more unpleasant things, for God's sake, and for the sake of Saint Marmoutier and Saint-Martin of Tours, go quietly, and don't bother your Monsieur Pierre any more.Who knows?It is most likely an alias for the devil.

The Scots found themselves far from their opponents, and it would be best to walk away without saying a word.The peasants thought he was capable of witchcraft and devouring grapes, and at first tried to avoid him in fear, but after he had gone a certain distance, they became more courageous, first shouting and cursing at him, and finally cheering him with stones, despite the distance. Far away, no harm can be done to the object of their aversion.As Quentin continued to walk forward, he thought, either he himself was possessed, or the people of Dulan City were the most stupid and barbaric.Most unfriendly French peasants.Another incident he observed did not necessarily help dispel this view.

On a hillside above the swift and beautiful Cher, just before the path in which he was walking, two or three chestnut trees formed a wonderful grove.Beside them stood three or four peasants, their eyes turned upward, apparently at something hanging from a nearby branch.The musings of a young man are often broken by the slightest impulse of curiosity, as a pebble thrown at random from the hand breaks the tranquility of a clear pool of water.Quentin quickened his pace and stepped up to the small hill briskly, just in time to catch up with the eye-catching and terrifying scene. It turned out to be a man's body hanging on a tree branch, struggling for death.

Why don't you cut the rope and get him down?said the young man, who was ready to step up to ease the pain of others as if he were protecting his own stricken honor.One of the peasants, with a face as pale as clay, pointed fearfully at a mark carved in a tree.Just as certain spell-like notches, familiar to tax collectors, look rather like a broad arrow, so this one resembles a lily.The young Davelt neither understood nor cared about the meaning of this symbol, so he jumped up on the tree lightly, and took out from the bag the trustworthy black knife ( Original note: A kind of knife that cannot be folded. In the past, the Scottish Highlanders liked to use it, and they usually carried it with them when they went out. But it is rarely used now.).Sensing the urgency of the situation, he asked the people below to catch the man's body, and at the same time cut the noose with a knife. Onlookers, however, did not support his humanitarian act.They didn't give Darwilt any help at all, but they seemed to be terrified by his reckless actions, and they fled around in unison, as if they were afraid that they would be said to be lawless accomplices just by being a bystander.Since the person's body was not hugged by the person underneath, it fell heavily to the ground.Quentin immediately jumped down from the tree, but he was annoyed to find that the man was dead.He didn't want to give up hope just yet.He let go the noose that was about the poor fellow's neck, unfastened his coat, sprinkled water on his face, and administered other usual first aid measures. At this moment, there was a sudden commotion around him, and people were talking in a language he could not understand.Before he had time to take a look, he was already surrounded by several men and women in strange clothes.Two arms hugged him roughly, and at the same time an unsheathed sharp knife was aimed at his throat. You white slave of Ablis!A man said in bad French, you murdered him, do you want to rob him?Good thing we got you.You have to be punished. Immediately, everyone around them drew their knives.That fierce and ferocious face glared at him, with the expression of a wolf about to pounce on a sheep. The courage and composure of the young Scot saved him from danger.What do you mean, my lords?He said, if this person is your friend, you should know that I saved him just now out of compassion. You'd better try to save him instead of mistreating a stranger who saved his life. people. At this time, several women had taken over the hard body and continued the first aid that Dawilt had been carrying out.However, it also had no effect.They had no choice but to give up the futile rescue and express their grief heartily with their oriental expressions.The women yelled and pulled their long black hair.The men seem to be tearing their clothes and throwing ashes on their heads.At last they were so absorbed in the mourning that they paid no attention to Dawilt's presence.Judging by the circumstances, they too had believed him innocent.Surely his wisest course of action would have been to walk away from these savages and let them have their own way.But he had been brought up with a fearless upbringing, and at the same time he could not help being lured by the eager curiosity of youth. This strange mixed crowd of men and women wore hoods and hats; these hats, on the whole, looked more like the cap he himself wore than the French cap worn by the average Frenchman.Several men had curly black beards.Their faces were almost as black as Africans.One or two who looked like their chiefs had gaudy silver jewelry on their necks and ears, and yellow, red, or pale green shawls, while their legs and arms were bare.The whole gang looked filthy and pathetic in appearance.Darwilt saw that the only weapons they were carrying were the long knives they had used to threaten him just now.But a nimble-looking young man carried a short cutlass, or mole.The young man, often putting his hand on the hilt of his knife, expressed his grief more freely than the rest, and mingled with it, it seemed, threats of vengeance. This moaning mob was so different in appearance from anything Quentin had seen before that he was almost ready to assert that they were a bunch of Arabs, depicted in novels he had heard or read, dedicated to A pagan hawk dog that fought against noble knights and Christian monarchs.He was about to leave this dangerous crowd when he suddenly heard the sound of horses running.The imaginary Arabs had just lifted the body of their companions on their shoulders when they were immediately attacked by a detachment of French cavalry. The sudden, ghostly attack turned mourners' wails into screams of terror.They immediately threw the body on the ground.The people around showed a high degree of dexterity in their movements, and some wanted to get under the horse's belly to avoid the spears aimed at them.The spearmen yelled loudly one by one: "Down with these hateful pagan fools, seize and kill them, tie them up like animals, and poke them like wolves!" The shouts were naturally accompanied by corresponding brutalities.But the runners were so swift, and the groves and bushes made the terrain unfavorable to the knights, that only two were captured.One of them put up some resistance, the young man with the sword.Quentin also seems to be chosen by the god of fate as a target.Several soldiers seized him together.Despite his protests, they tied him up with ropes.The movements of those who captured him were very skilled and agile, which showed that they were no novice in arresting people. Quentin looked anxiously at the leader of the cavalry, wanting to be released from him.He did not know whether to be delighted or frightened when he recognized him as Monsieur Pierre's silent companion with downcast eyes.Indeed, whatever the crimes of the strangers, the officer would know from the morning's events that he, Dawilt, had nothing to do with them.But even more difficult to judge is whether this eerie figure is willing to rule in his favour, or volunteer to testify on his behalf.At the same time he doubted whether he should appeal directly to him in order to improve his situation. But he didn't have much time to hesitate.Troy.Eichel and little Andrei, the officer looking down, said to his two men that the trees here are just right.I will teach these godless, sneaky wizards and witches who dare to break the king's law when it punishes their hateful associates.The children quickly dismounted to carry out the task. Troy.Eichel and little Andre immediately jumped off their horses.Quentin saw that they each had a coil or two of rope on the pommel and stern.They quickly untied the rope.It turns out that each strand of rope is actually a noose, with the loops adjusted and ready to use.Quentin saw that three nooses had been selected, and realized that they were going to put one of them around his neck, and felt his blood cool in his veins.He appealed to the officer that they had met this morning, and that he was entitled to the rights of a free Scot in a friendly ally.He categorically denied that he knew the strangers who had been arrested with him, and that he had any prior knowledge of their misdeeds. The officer who heard Darwilt's appeal did not even bother to look at him when he spoke, and ignored his acquaintance's words.A few farmers, perhaps wanting to take the initiative to testify, perhaps driven by curiosity, have come over at this time.The officer turned slightly to one or two of them and asked roughly: "Is this young man also with the bums?" A gang, sir, answered a country bumpkin, the noble Advocate-Martial, as we have told your lordship, was the one who had the audacity to cut the cord first, and put down this rascal who by His Majesty's law deserves death. . I swear by God and Saint-Martin of Tours that he was with them when they robbed our fields.said another country bumpkin. Father, you are wrong, said a child, the original heathen was black, and this young man is white.It turned out that the man had short curly hair, but the young man had long fair curly hair. You are right, boy, said the farmer, and perhaps you will also say that that one has a green coat and this one has a gray coat.But His Excellency the Advocate General knows that they can change their appearance as well as their clothes.So I still think he's the one. It is enough for you to see him trying to save a traitor who was executed, and interfere with the king's justice.Said the officer, Troy.Eichel and little Andre, hurry up. Sir, stop it!The young man cried out in pain before dying, listen to me, don't let me die innocently, my compatriots in this world and the justice of God in the next world will demand from you the blood debt for killing me. I will be responsible for my actions in this life and in the lives to come.The officer said coldly, gesturing to the executioner with his left hand.Then with an evil triumphant smile he pointed with his index finger at his right arm, which was probably wounded by Darwilt this morning and hung in a shawl. Despicable villain!Quentin said, because that gesture convinced him that the man's severity was purely motivated by personal vengeance, and that no kindness could be expected from him. The poor young man is talking nonsense.Said the officer, Troy.Eichel, give him a word of comfort before he dies.You can bring comfort to the dying on such occasions when no confessor is present.You take a minute to give him some peace of mind and then get rid of him right away.I have to go on my rounds.Soldiers, come with me! Followed by the guards, the Attorney General rode forward on horseback. Only two or three people remained to help carry out the execution.The unfortunate young man cast him a bleak, hopeless look, as if hearing in the distant clatter of hooves that his last hope of salvation had vanished.Looking around in agony, he could not help but wonder at the stoic indifference of his fellow sufferers, even at that moment.At first they were terrified and fled in all directions.Once captured, however, and apparently doomed to die, they await their death with the utmost composure.The doom they faced might have added a tinge of yellow to their swarthy faces, but death had neither agitated them nor extinguished the fierce, haughty spark in their eyes.They were like those foxes who, when all their treacherous attempts to escape had been thwarted, died silently with a sullen stoicism that such ferocious beasts as wolves and bears cannot have. They were not deterred by the actions of the execution squad.The executioners proceeded to their preparations with more deliberation than the chief had commanded them to do, and this deliberation may have been due to the certain pleasure they had been accustomed to derive from performing such dreadful tasks.We want to describe these men first, because the character of the hangman is an important subject matter, whether under the tyranny of a tyrant or a mob. The two hangmen differ in appearance and attitude.Louis used to call them Democritus and Heraclitus, and their chief, the Attorney-General, called them Jean the Weeping and the Laughing. Troy.Eichel, tall and thin, with a hideous face and a peculiar seriousness, wore a large string of beads around his neck.He often gave the rosary to the victims he was going to execute devoutly, and he often read one or two paragraphs of Latin explaining that life is like a dream.Had such a part-time job as the one described below been lawful, perhaps he would have been both prison confessor and hangman.Little Andre, on the other hand, was a jovial, buoyant fat boy.He takes pleasure in his assignment as if it were the funnest job in the world.He seemed to have a fondness for his subjects, and always spoke of them in friendly and endearing terms, according to their age and sex, his honest and poor fellows, his dear little ones, his old Friendship, or his great big daddy, etc.Troy.Eichel tried to inspire them with a philosophical or religious view of the afterlife.Little André always had to tell a joke or two to keep them amused, as if to induce them to get rid of life as something absurd, contemptible, and unworthy of seriousness. I do not know why, but these two eminent men, in spite of their many talents, and being a rarity in the profession, were perhaps more odious than their former and subsequent counterparts.For those who knew them well, the only question was whether it was the serious, compassionate Troyer.Eichel, or the lively, funny and sensitive little Andre, is more terrible and deserves a stronger curse.Except perhaps their leader, the famous military judge Triston.Apart from Lermitre, and his master Louis XI, they certainly outperformed the other hangers in France in the above two specific respects. (Original note: I learned from the yearbook edited by Jean de Troyer, and one situation that was not available due to the lateness of time is: more precisely, one of the two should be named Jean de Troyer. It should not be named André Jr. In fact, it was the son of Henri de Cousin (Executioner of the Supreme Court) named André Jr. He beheaded the Governor of St. Paul so skillfully that the severed head and torso fell to the ground at the same time. This is 1475.) Let us not think that these are all Quentin.Dawilt's own thinking, because of life and death.Time and eternity floated before him like a revolving lantern, and he was faced with the overwhelming, dizzying prospect against which human dignity was willing to hold its head up and human weakness shy away.He prayed to the God his ancestors believed in.Then he suddenly remembered the rough roofless chapel where his whole family (except himself, of course) was buried.Our feudal feud has my relatives buried on their own land, he thought, while I have to be left like an excommunicated felon in the wilderness to feed exotic crows and hawks!Tears welled up in the young man's eyes.Troy.Eichel touched his shoulder, solemnly congratulating him for having such a reverent mood to face death.He read aloud the Beatiquiin Deminomorinter (Note: Latin: Blessed is he that dies in the bosom of the Lord.) sadly, and comforted him by saying that happy is the soul that leaves the body with tears.Little Andre patted him on the other shoulder and shouted: Take courage, my boy!Since you have to start dancing, let the dance start off in high spirits, because all the shamisen are already in tune!He twisted the noose as he spoke to intensify the wit.The young man looked first at Troy and then at little André with frightened eyes.They just nudged him towards the deadly chestnut tree, and told him to cheer up, for in a blink of an eye it would all be over.In this way, their intentions are exposed. In this difficult moment of dying, the young man cast a bewildered glance at those around him, and said: "Good Christian who listens to me here, tell me, please, of the Frenchman named Le Baraffrey, of the Scotch Guard Ludwig. gram.Leslie, just say his nephew was murdered vilely here, will you?These words were well timed, for a Scotch Guard marksman, curious as to the preparations for the execution, approached, and stood with one or two passers-by to watch. Take care, he said to the executioner, if the young man is a Scot, I will not allow him to be framed. Heaven won't allow it, Mr. Knight, Troy.We must obey orders, Eichel said.While talking, he took Darwilt by one hand and dragged him forward. The shortest scenes are always the best.Little Andre also said while pulling his other hand forward. Quentin heard the words in his favor, and with all his might he broke free from the two executioners, and ran up to the Scotch shooter with his arms still bound.Folks, for Scotland and St. Andrew's sake, please help me!He said in Scots, I am innocent, I am your countryman, save me, and you will answer to God on the last day of judgment! Swear by St. Andrew!They have to get through me before they can catch you.said the shooter, drawing his knife. Cut me the rope, man, said Quentin, and I will defend myself. The archer cut the rope with a knife.The freed prisoner suddenly rushed to a soldier of the firing squad and snatched a halberd from his hand.Well now, he said, come if you dare! The two officials whispered for a while. You go on horseback after the Chief of Military Law, Troy.Eichel said, I will detain them here as much as possible to the guards of the Military Advocate General, ready to fight. Little Andre rode out.Hear Troy.According to Eichel's order, the rest of the soldiers quickly moved closer, and in their haste, the other two prisoners escaped.Perhaps they didn't want to hold them, for they were weary of the blood of those wretches; as other ferocious beasts are weary of it after long killing.However, their excuse is that the current responsibility lies in protecting Troy.Eichel occasionally led to open disputes due to the mutual jealousy that existed between the Scotch Archer and the Law Enforcement Guards who carried out the orders of the Advocate General. As long as you like, a soldier to Troy.We are strong enough, said Eichel, to beat the proud Scots. But the prudent officer beckoned him to be quiet, and addressed the Scotch archer politely: Sir, it is a great insult to him that you have dared to interfere with the Lord Marshal's order to enforce the king's laws.As for my treatment of prisoners in my charge according to the law, you do me a great injustice.Besides, you are not doing any kindness to the young man, because, even if he had been hanged fifty times, he never had such a beautiful voodoo as before your foolish intervention. Prepare. If my young countryman thinks I've done him a disservice, said the Scot with a smile, then I'll hand him back to you without a doubt. Don't, don't!For god's sake don't do that!Quentin cried, I would rather have you cut off my head. That would do me good, that my noble birth should not be dishonored by this wretch. Listen to how he scolded us!What a disaster, said the executioner!Our best arrangements were suddenly ruined!A moment ago he was happy and ready to die, but in a blink of an eye he became a villain who despised the king's authority! Tell me at once, asked the archer, what crime has this young man committed? He intervened, Troy.Eichel replied more seriously, dismembering the body of a criminal whose emblem was painted with lilies on the tree where I hanged him myself. What's going on, young man?The shooter asked, how could you do such a crime? Since I beg your protection, Davelt replied, I will tell you the truth of the matter as I would confess to a priest.I saw a man in a dying struggle in a tree, and I cut the rope out of sheer humanity and let him down.I thought neither of lilies nor of carnations.At the same time it never occurred to me to offend the King of France, just as it never occurred to me to offend the Pope. How could you be so unlucky with a dead body?asked the archer, and you can see such prisoners hanging like grapes from every tree behind this gentleman.If you want to go after the hangman to collect the dead, you've got a lot to do in this country.However, if I can do it, I will not put the life and death of a fellow man at risk.Listen to me, sir, it's all a misunderstanding.You should show a little compassion for a young stranger.He has seldom seen such active deeds in our Scotland as you and your master have done. Lord Sagittarius, our measures are not without reason.Little Andre, who was rushing back at this time, said, don't waver, Troy.Eichel.The Attorney General is here.We shall soon see what it must have been like for him to see his orders thwarted by others. He came just in time, said the archer, and some of my companions also came. And so it was.At the same time Triston the Judge Martial and his patrol rode up from the side of the hill where the dispute was taking place, four or five Scotch archers hurried up from the other side of the hill.At the head was none other than Le Balafrey. At this critical moment, Leslie showed none of the indifference to his nephew that Quentin had secretly reproached him with.As soon as he saw one of his companions standing there with Darwilt, ready to defend himself, he called out: "Thank you, Cunningham.Gentlemen and fellows, please help me This is a young Scottish gentleman My nephew.Lindsey Gutley Deeley draws his knife and rushes in! A life-and-death fight is likely to take place at this moment.Although the numbers of the two sides are similar, the Scottish knights have better weapons and are more likely to win.Either uncertain about the outcome of the conflict, or realizing that it would displease the King, the Attorney-General greeted his entourage and asked them not to use force first, but to propose to Le Barafrey, who was the leader of the opposing party. Question: As a knight of the king's guard, you oppose the execution of criminals. What is your intention? I deny that I am against the execution of criminals, replied Le Balafrey, Saint-Martin!I think there is always a difference between executing a criminal and killing my nephew? My lord, your nephew may be as much a criminal as anyone else.The Military Advocate General said that in France, any foreigner must obey French laws! Well said, but we Scottish strikers are privileged.Said LeBalafrey, do we have any privileges, my fellows? Yes, yes, everyone shouted in unison, privileges, privileges!Long live King Louis, brave Le Balafrey, long live the Scottish Guards, kill all who try to infringe upon our privileges! Knights and gentlemen, you have to be reasonable, said the military judge, and you have to consider what my mission is. We don't want to hear your reasoning, said Cunningham, our own officers will give us reasoning.We are willing to be judged by the king.The governor is not here, and we are willing to be judged by our captain of the guard. Except old Judge Sandy of our guard.No one but Wilson can execute us.Lindsay said. We'd be bullying Sandy if we backed down to anything else.He is as good at the noose as anyone else."If I were to be hanged, I would not let someone put a noose around my neck," Le Barafrey said. You hear me, the Advocate General preached, this lad is not part of your guard.He cannot enjoy what you call privileges. As for what belongs to our privilege, we should have the final say, and everyone has to admit it.坎寧安說道。 不容許對我們的特權提出異議！射手們同聲喊道。 我的老爺們，你們瘋了，特里斯頓．勒爾米特說道，誰也沒懷疑你們的特權。但這年輕人不屬於你們衛隊。 他是我的外甥。勒巴拉弗雷盛氣凌人地說道。 我想他並不是衛隊的射手。特里斯頓．勒爾米特反駁道。 射手們有點猶豫地彼此望了一眼。 夥計，沉住氣，坎寧安向勒巴拉弗雷耳語道，就說他已經參加我們得了。 聖馬丁呀！你說得對，我的好老鄉。萊斯利說道。接著他抬高嗓門發誓說，他已在當天把他外甥列入他自己的隨從名單。 這一宣布成了一個具有決定性意義的論據。 好吧，紳士們，軍法總監特里斯頓說道，因為他知道國王十分害怕在他的衛隊中產生任何不滿情緒，你們說你們知道自己享有的特權。而只要可以避免，我也用不著和國王的衛隊發生鬥毆。不過我將把這事報告國王，讓他親自作出決定。我也希望你們能意識到，我這樣做也算客氣了，也許沒盡到我的職責。 說罷他下令調開他的人馬。衛隊的射手們則留在原地匆忙商量下一步該怎麼辦。 我們得首先把這事報告給衛隊長克勞福德，把這小夥子的名字列入衛隊名冊。 紳士們，我尊敬的救命恩人和朋友們，昆丁有些猶豫地說道，我還沒有決定是否參加你們的衛隊。 那你自己定奪一下吧，他舅父說道，究竟是參加我們衛隊，還是寧可被絞死我可以肯定地告訴你，儘管你是我的外甥，我看不出有什麼別的辦法能使你逃脫絞架。 這可是個無可批駁的論點。它促使昆丁馬上同意接受他本會認為很不愉快的一個建議。但既然他剛剛擺脫了實際上已經套在他脖子上的一根絞索，那麼，即使現在有比他舅父提出來的更壞的選擇，他也會無可奈何地接受下來。 他得和我們一道回軍營去。坎寧安說道，他一離開我們營區的範圍，就會不安全，因為這些捕人的獵手會潛伏在周圍，伺機逮他。 好舅舅，我能不能今晚就住在我吃早點的那家旅店？年輕人問道也許他也和許多新兵的想法一樣，即使獲得一夜自由也算是一種收獲。 可以啊，好外甥，舅父譏諷地說道，這樣，我們就可以從某條運河或護城河或盧瓦河的河灣裡有趣地把你打撈上來。人們還會把你縫在麻袋裡，好讓你更舒服、更方便地游泳哩。說實在的，結果很可能會這樣。軍法總監離開時，他還向我們微笑了一下。他繼續對坎寧安說道：這種跡象說明他還打著鬼主意。 我倒不在乎他的鬼主意。坎寧安說道，要把我們當作獵物來抓，那是他捕鳥的機關無能為力的。不過我希望你把事情的全部經過告訴魔鬼奧利弗，因為他一直是蘇格蘭衛隊的好朋友，而且他明天就要給路易王理髮。他將能夠趕在軍法總監之前見到國王。 你聽我說，勒巴拉弗雷說道，空手去見奧利弗是不行的，而我卻像冬天光禿禿的櫸樹那樣一無所有。 我們都一個樣，坎寧安說，奧利弗這回得大膽地相信我們蘇格蘭人的保證。下次發餉時我們將湊錢送給他一筆像樣的彩禮。如果他指望我們給他送禮，那麼我可以告訴你，他們還會提前發餉。 現在讓我們回城堡去吧！勒巴拉弗雷說道，我外甥可以在路上給我們說說他是怎麼惹上軍法總監的，我們好編造一個故事，說給克勞福德和奧利弗聽。