"_Le Borgne Basque_, I know no other," said Gaston. "We reck little
of names here, especially when it may be convenient to have them
forgotten. He is a Free Companion, a _routier_, brave enough,
but more ready at the sack than the assault, and loving best to
plunder, waste, and plunder again, or else to fleece such sheep
as our friend here."

"How could such a man gain entrance to the Prince's pavilion?"

"Stout hearts and strong arms find entrance in most places," said
Gaston; "but, as you saw, he durst not appear at the upper table."

The next morning the army began their march to the Pyrenees. They
halted for some days at the foot of the hills, whilst negotiations
were passing between the Black Prince and Charles the Bad, King of
Navarre, who might easily have prevented their entrance into the
Peninsula by refusing a passage through his mountain fastnesses.

When the permission was granted, they advanced with considerable
danger and difficulty. The rugged paths were covered with snow
and ice, which made them doubly perilous for the horses, and but
for Gaston's familiarity with his native hills, Sir Reginald
declared that he could never have brought his little troop
across them in safety.

At length they emerged through the celebrated Pass of Roncesvalles,
where Eustace in imagination listened to the echoes of the dying
blast of Roland. On the following evening he had the delight of
reading his history in the veritable pages of Archbishop Turpin,
which precious work he found in the possession of Brother Waleran,