"You are right, pretty lady," he replied "and that shall concern me no more. You shall furnish me with a suit of mail out of your store, with a shield, a good spear and a sword. I have already a horse, which I owe to the vicarious bounty of the Lord Abbot, exercised through me, his right-hand man. This then will be all I shall ask of you on my account, so far as I can see at present. With what I know to back them they may win me an earldom and a pretty partner. At least they will enable me to pay Master Red-Feather my little score."
The pupils of Maulfry"s eyes narrowed to a pair of pin points.
"What is this?" she said quickly. "Red feathers? A surcoat white and green? A gold baldrick? Did he bear a _fesse dancettee_ upon his shield, a hooded falcon for his crest?" Her questions chimed with her panting.
"By baldrick and shield I know him for a Gai of Starning," said Galors. "So much is certain, but which of them in particular I cannot tell certainly. There were half-a-dozen at one time. Not Malise, I think. He is too thin-lipped for such work as that. He can do sums in his head, is a ready reckoner. This lad was quick enough to act, but not quick enough to refrain from acting. Malise would not have acted.
He can see too far ahead. Nor is it Osric. He would have made speeches and let vapours. This lad was quiet."
"Quiet as G.o.d," said Maulfry with a stare.
"But," Galors went on, "you need not think for him, who or what he was. I shall meet him to-morrow, and if things go as they should you shall see me again very soon. You shall come to a wedding. A wedding in Tortsentier will not be amiss, dame. Moreover, it will be new. If I fail--well, then also you shall see me, and serve me other ways. Will you do this?"
Maulfry frowned a little as she thought. Then she laughed.
"You know very well I will do more for you than this. And how much will you do for me, Galors?"
"Ask and see," said Galors.
"I too may have accounts to settle."
"You will find me a good bailiff, Maulfry. Punctual at the audit."
Maulfry laughed again as she looked up at her armour. Galors" look followed hers.
"Choose, Galors," she said; "choose, my champion. Choose, Sir Galors de Born!"
Galors took a long and deliberate survey.
"I will go in black," said he, "and for the rest, since I am no man of race, the coat is indifferent to me." So he began to read and comment upon his texts. "_Je tiendray_--why, so I shall, but it savours of forecast, brags a little."
"None the worse for my knight," said Maulfry.
"No, no," he laughed, "but let me get something of which to brag first. Hum. _Dieu m"en garde_--we will leave G.o.d out of the reckoning, I think. _Designando_--I will do more than point out, by the Rood! _Jesus, Amor, Ma Dame_--I know none of these.
_Entra per me_--Oh brave, brave! "Tis your latest, dame?"
Maulfry"s eyes grew hard and bright. "Choose it, choose, my Galors!"
she cried. "And if with that you beat down the red feather, and blind the hooded hawk, you will serve me more than you dream. Oh, choose, choose!"
"_Entra per me_ pleases me, I confess. But what are the arms?
Wickets?"
"Three white wicket-gates on a sable field. It was the coat of Salomon de Montguichet."
"Salomon?" said Galors all in a whisper. "Never Salomon? Do you not remember?"
Maulfry laughed. "I should remember, I think. But there is no monopoly. What we choose others can choose. The name is free to the world, and a great name."
Galors, visibly uneasy; thought hard about it. Then he swore. "And I go for great deeds, by Heaven! Give it me, Dame. I will have it.
_Entra per me_! And shut the wickets when I am in!"
He kissed Maulfry then and there, and they went to bed.
CHAPTER VIII
THE SALLY AT DAWN
On the morning after his strange wedding Prosper rose up early, quite himself. He left Isoult asleep in the bed, but could see neither old man, old woman, nor friar; so far as he could tell, he and his wife were alone in the cottage. Now he must think what to do. He admitted freely enough to himself that he had not been in a condition for this overnight; the girl"s mood had exalted him; he had acted, and rightly acted (he was clear about this); now he must think what to do. The first duty was plain: he went out into the air and bathed in a pool; he took a quick run and set his blood galloping; then he groomed and fed his horse; put on his armour, and said his prayers. In the course of this last exercise he again remembered his wife, on whose account he had determined to make up his mind. He rose from his knees at once and walked about the heath, thinking it out.
"It is clear enough," he said to himself, "that neither my wife nor I desired marriage. We are not of the same condition; we have not--I speak for myself and by implication for her also--we have not those desires which draw men and women towards each other. Love, no doubt, is a strange and terrible thing: it may lead a man to the writing of verses and a most fatiguing search for words, but it will not allow him to be happy in anything except its own satisfaction; and in that it seems absurd to be happy. Marriage is in the same plight: it may be a good or a bad thing; without love it is a ridiculous thing.
Nevertheless my wife and I are of agreement in this, that we think marriage better than being hanged. I do not understand the alternatives, but I accept them, and am married. My wife will not be hanged. For the rest, I shall take her to Gracedieu. The devout ladies there will no doubt make a nun of her; she will be out of harm"s way, and all will be well."
He said another prayer, and rose up much comforted. And then as he got up Isoult came out of the cottage.
She ran towards him quickly, knelt down before he could prevent her, took his hand and kissed it. She was very shy of him, and when he raised her up and kissed her forehead, suffered the caress with lowered eyes and a face all rosy. Prosper found her very different from the tattered bride of over-night. She had changed her rags for a cotton gown of dark blue, her clouds of hair were now drawn back over her ears into a knot and covered with a silk hood of Indian work. On her feet, then bare, he now saw sandals, round her waist a leather belt with a thin dagger attached to it in a silver sheath. She looked very timidly, even humbly up at him whenever he spoke to her--with the long faithfulness of a dog shining in her big eyes: but she looked like a girl who was to be respected, and even Prosper could not but perceive what a dark beauty she was. Pale she was, no doubt, except when she blushed; but this she did as freely as hill-side clouds in March.
"Where is your wedding-ring, my child?" he asked her, when he had noticed that it was not where he had put it.
"Lord, it is here," said she, blushing again. She drew from her neck a fine gold chain whereon were the ring and another trinket which beamed like gla.s.s.
Is that where you would have it, Isoult?"
"Yes, lord," she answered. "For this present it must be there."
"As you will," said Prosper. "Let us break our fast and make ready, for we must be on our journey before we see the sun." Isoult went into the cottage as Brother Bonaccord came out with good-morning all over his puckered face.
Isoult brought bread and goats"-milk cheese, and they broke their fast sitting on the threshold, while the sun slowly rose behind the house and lit up the ground before them--a broken moorland with heather- clumps islanded in pools of black water. The white forest mist hid every distance and the air was shrewdly cold; but Prosper and the friar gossiped cheerfully as they munched.
"We friars," said Brother Bonaccord, "have been accused of a foible for wedding-rings. I grant you I had rather marry a healthy couple than leave them aching, and that the sooner there"s a christening the better I am pleased. Another soul for Christ to save; another point against the devil, thinks I! I have heard priests say otherwise: they will christen if they must, and marry if it is not too late; but they would sooner bury you any day. Go to! They live in the world (which I vow is an excellent place), and eat and drink of it; yet they shut their eyes, pretending all the time that they are not there, but rather in skyey mansions. If this is not a fit and proper place for us men, why did G.o.d Almighty take six days a-thinking before He bid it out of the cooking pot? For a gift to the devil? Not He! "Stop bubbling, you rogue," says He; "out of the pot with you and on to the platter, that these gentlemen and ladies of mine may cease sucking their fingers and dip in the dish!" Pooh! Look at your mother Mary and your little brother Gesulino. There was a wedding for you, there was a sacring! Beloved sons are ye all, young men; full of grace are ye, young women! G.o.d be good, who told me to couple ye and keep the game a-going! Take my blessing, brother, and the sleek and tidy maid you have gotten to wife; I must be on the road. I am for Hauterive out of the hanging Abbot"s country. He"ll be itching about that new gallows of his, thinking how I should look up there."
He kissed them both very heartily and trudged out into the mist, waving his hand.
"There goes a good soul," said Prosper. "Give me something to drink, child, I beseech you."
Isoult brought a great bowl of milk and gave it into his hands, afterwards (though he never saw her) she drank of it from the place where he had put his lips. Then it was time for them also to take the road. Isoult went away again, and returned leading Prosper"s horse and shield; she brought an a.s.s for herself to ride on. Curtseying to him she asked--
"Is my lord ready?"
"Ready for anything in life, my child," said he as he took her up and put her on the a.s.s. Then he mounted his horse. They set off at once over the heath, striking north. None watched them go.
The sky was now without cloud. White all about, it swam into clear blue overhead. A light breeze, brisk and fresh, blew the land clear, only little patches of the morning mist hung torn and ragged about the furze-bushes. The forest was still densely veiled, but the sun was up, the larks afloat; the rains of over-night crisped and sparkled on the gra.s.s: there was promise of great weather. Presently with its slant roofs shining, its gilded spires and cross, Prosper saw on his left the great Abbey of Holy Thorn. He saw the river with a boat"s sail, the village of Malbank Saint Thorn on the further bank and the cloud of thin blue smoke over it; far across the heath came the roar of the weirs. Behind it and on all sides began to rise before him the dark rampart of trees--Morgraunt.
Prosper"s heart grew merry within him at the sight of all this freshness, the splendour of the morning. He was disposed to be well contented with everything, even with Isoult, upon whom he looked down once or twice, to see her pacing gently beside him, a guarded and graceful possession. "Well, friend," he said to himself, "you have a proper-seeming wife, it appears, of whom it would be well to know something."
He began to question her, and this time she told him everything he asked her, except why she was called Isoult la Desirous. As to this, she persisted that she could not tell him. He took it good-temperedly, with a shrug.