"Even so, madame."
"How long will you hold me at a disadvantage?"
"Is ignorance burdensome?"
She imagined of a sudden that the man was smiling behind his beaver.
Being utterly serious herself, she discovered an illogical lack of sympathy in the stranger"s humour. Moreover she was striving to spell Gambrevault from the alphabet of word and gesture, and to come to an understanding with the doubts of the moment.
"Messire," she began.
"Madame," he retorted.
"Are you mere stone?"
For answer he lapsed into sudden reflection.
"It is five years ago this Junetide," he said, "since the King and the Court came to Gilderoy."
"Gilderoy?"
"You know the town, madame?"
She stared back upon a sudden vision of the past, a past gorgeous with the crimson fires of youth. That Junetide she had worn a new green gown, a silver girdle, a red rose in her hair. There had been jousting in the Gilderoy meadows, much braying of trumpets, much splendour, much pomp of arms. She remembered the scent and colour of it all; the blaze of tissues of gold and green, purple and azure. She remembered the flickering of a thousand pennons in the wind, the fair women thronging the galleries like flowers burdening a bowl. The vision came to her undefiled for the moment, a dream-memory, calm as the first pure pageant of spring.
"And you, messire?" she said, with more colour of face and soul.
"Rode in the King"s train."
"A n.o.ble?"
"Do I bulk for a cook or a falconer?"
"No, no. Yet you remember me?"
"As it were yesterday, walking in the meadows at your father"s side--your father, that Rual who carried the banner when the King"s men stormed Gaerlent these forty years ago. Not, madame, that I followed that war; I was a ma.s.s of swaddling-clothes puking in a cradle. So we grow old."
The girl"s face had darkened again on the instant. The man in the red cloak saw her eyes grow big of pupil, her lips straightened into a colourless line. She held her head high, and stared into the purple gloom of the woods. Memories were with her. The present had an iron hand upon her heart.
"Time changes many things," he said, with a discretion that desired to soften the silence; "we go from cradle to throne in one score years, from life to clay in a moment. Pay no homage to circ.u.mstance. The wave covers the rock, but the granite shows again its glistening poll when the water has fallen. A Hercules can strangle Fate. As for me, I know not whether I have soared in the estimation of heaven; yet I can swear that I have lost much of the vagabond, sinful soul that straddled my shoulders in the past."
There was a warm ruggedness about the man, a flippant self-knowledge, that touched the girl"s fancy. He was either a strong soul, or an utter charlatan, posing as a Diogenes. She preferred the former picture in her heart, and began to question him again with a species of picturesque insolence.
"I presume, messire," she said, "that you have some purpose in life.
From my brief dealings with you, I should deem you a very superior footpad. I gather that it is your intention to rob me. I confess that you seem a gentleman at the business."
The man of the red cloak laughed in his helmet.
"To be frank, madame," he said, "you may dub me a gatherer of taxes."
"Explain."
"Being unfortunates and outcasts from the lawful ways of life, my men and I seek to remedy the injustice of the world by levying toll on folk more happy than ourselves."
"Then you condemn me as fortunate?"
"Your defence, madame."
The girl smiled with her lips, but her eyes were hard and bright as steel.
"I might convince you otherwise," she said, "but no matter. Why should I be frank with a thief, even though he be n.o.bly born?"
"Because, madame, the thief may be of service to the lady."
"I have little silver for your wallet."
"Am I nothing but a money-bag!"
She looked up at him with a straight stare; her voice was level, even imperious.
"Put up your vizor," she said to him.
The man in the black harness hesitated, then obeyed her. She could see little of his face, however, save that it was bronzed, and that the eyes were very masterful. She ventured further in the argument, being bent on fathoming the baser instincts of the business.
"Knight of the red shield," she said.
"Madame?"
"I ask you an honest question. If you would serve me, speak the truth, and let me know my peril. Are you the Lord Flavian of Gambrevault, or no?"
The man never hesitated an instant. There was no wavering to cast doubt upon his sincerity, or upon his intelligence as a liar.
"No, madame," he answered her, "I am not the Lord of Gambrevault and Avalon, and may I, for the sake of my own neck, never come single-handed within his walls. I have an old feud with the lords of Gambrevault, and when the chance comes, I shall settle it heavily to my credit. If you have any ill to say of the gentleman, pray say it, and be happy in my sympathy."
"Ha," she said, with a sudden flash of malice, "I would give my soul for that fellow"s head."
"So," quoth the man, with a keen look, "that would be a most delectable bargain."
IV
The stems thinned about them suddenly, and the sky grew great beyond a more meagre screen of boughs. To the west, breaking the blood-red canopy with an edge of agate, rocks towered heavenwards, smiting golden-fanged into a furnace of splendour. Waves of light beat in spray upon the billowy ma.s.ses of the trees, dying in the east into a majestic mask of gloom.
Yeoland and the man in red came forth into a little glade, hollowed by the waters of a rush-edged pool. A stream, a scolloped sheet of foam, stumbled headlong into the mere, vanishing beyond like a frail white ghost into the woods. A fire danced in the open, and under the trees stood a pavilion of red cloth.
The man dismounted and held the girl"s stirrup. A quick glance round the glade had shown her bales of merchandise, littering the green carpet of the place, horses tethered in the wood, men moving like gnomes about the fire. Even as she dismounted, streaks of steel shone out in the surrounding shadows. Armed men streamed in, and piled their pikes and bills about the pines.