Now listen, sirs, for the love of God the heavenly king! May our lord who turned the water into wine at Cana keep you all and grant you a happy ending. Hear me now, I pray you, knights, noble youths, burghers, priests and clerks and friars, and I'll sing you the story, from first to last, of the worthy Bertrand du Guesclin, Constable of France, that valiant paladin who was held in awe as far as the Rhine, through France, Auvergne and the Limousin. He was feared by every Jew and Saracen. Never since the days of Alexander, of Arthur or of good King Pippin, of Godfrey or of Saladin, did ever such a warrior hold sway. The records of his deeds, I tell you truly, are set down in Latin at Saint-Denis in France.

So settle down and hear me, if you relish stories and love honour! Draw near, and you'll hear, I think, a book to please you, newly composed in verse. Its author's name is Cuvelier, and for love of the Prince (God save him), to ensure that the deeds of the worthy, esteemed Constable be not forgotten, he has rendered them into fine and elegant verse.

This Constable, sirs, was named Bertrand. Of noble birth he was for sure, but a poor knight of humble means; yet before he passed the age of fifty he was a lord possessed of two noble counties – one in Spain where he was titled duke, and the other in France. There his fortune was such that he achieved the rank of Constable, and was loved beyond words by noble King Charles, and so feared by all that they thought themselves quite doomed the moment that his battle-cry was heard! He gave the king's foes no end of grief! He was feared by all – Jews and Saracens, Christians, too – in every land. In many parts new-born babes were told:

‘Hush! Hush, or you'll pay for it! Bertrand du Guesclin's here!’