It was on one of these days, when the Count stood in the great hall,
that there entered from the kitchen a young man whom he had never seen
before. The youth, whose name was Rainouart, was tall, strong as a
wild boar, and swift as a deer. The scullions and grooms had played
off jests upon him during the night, but had since repented them
sorely, for he had caught the leaders up in his arms and broken their
heads against the walls.
The rest, eager to avenge their comrades' death, prepared to overcome
him with numbers, and in spite of his strength it might have gone ill
with Rainouart had not Aimeri de Narbonne, hearing the noise, forbade
more brawling.
Count William was told of the unseemly scuffle, and asked the King who
and what the young man was who could keep at bay so many of his
fellows. "I bought him once at sea," said Louis, "and paid a hundred
marks for him. They pretend that he is the son of a Saracen, but he
will never reveal the name of his father. Not knowing what to do with
him, I sent him to the kitchen."
"Give him to me, King Louis," said William, smiling, "I promise you he
shall have plenty to eat."
"Willingly," answered the King.
Far off in the kitchen Rainouart was chafing at the sound of the
horses' hoofs, and at the scraps of talk let fall by the Knights, who
were seeing to the burnishing of their armour before they started to
fight the Saracens. "To think," he said to himself, "that I, who am of
right King of Spain, should be loitering here, heaping logs on the fire
and skimming the pot. But let King Louis look to himself! Before a
year is past I will snatch the crown from his head."
When the army was ready to march he made up his mind what to do, and it
was thus that he sought out William in the great hall. "Noble Count,
let me come with you, I implore you. I can help to look after the
horses and cook the food, and if at any time blows are needed I can
strike as well as any man."
"Good fellow," answered William, who wished to try what stuff he was
made of, "how could you, who have passed your days in the kitchen,
sleeping on the hearth when you were not busy turning the spit--how
could you bear all the fatigue of war, the long fasts, and the longer
watches? Before a month had passed you would be dead by the roadside!"
"Try me," said he, "and if you will not have me I will go alone, and
fight barefoot. My only weapon will be an iron-bound staff, and it
shall kill as many Saracens as the best sword among you all."
"Come then," answered the Count.