a yet more beautiful girl, Countess of Hauterive in
her own right, and as such betrothed to the great Earl
Roger of March and Bellesme. Earl Roger, who was
more than double her age, went out to fight; she stayed
at home, in the nursery or near it, and Fulk de Breaute
came to make eyes. These he made with such efficacy
that Isabel lost her heart first and her head afterwards,
wedded Fulk in secret, bore him a child, and was the
indirect means of his stabbing by the Earl’s
men as he was riding through the dark over Spurnt
Heath. The child was given to the Abbot’s
keeping (whence it promptly and conveniently vanished),
the Countess was married to the Earl; then the Earl
died. Whereupon she, still young, childless so
far as she could learn, and possessed of so much,
founded her twin abbeys in Morgraunt to secure peace
for the soul of Fulk and her own conscience.
This will suffice to prove that the Abbot had some
grounds for his manoeuvring. The breaking of
her troth to the Earl she held to make her an adulteress;
the stabbing of Fulk by the Earl to prove her a murderess.
There was neither mercy nor discernment in these reproaches.
She believed herself a wanton when she had been but
a lover. For no sin, therefore, had she so little
charity as for that which the Abbot had imputed to
his candidate for the tumbril. Isoult la Desirous
it was who won the charter, as the Abbot had intended
she should, to serve his end and secure her own according
to his liking.
For the charter was sealed and seisin delivered in
the presence of Dom Galors, almoner of the Abbey,
of Master Porges, seneschal of High March, and of
one or two mesne lords of those parts. Then the
Countess went to bed; and at this time Prosper le
Gai was also lying in the fringes of Morgraunt, asleep
on his shield with his red cloak over him, having
learned from a hind whom he met on the hill that at
Malbank Saint Thorn he would find hospitality, and
that his course must lie in such and such a direction.
DOM GALORS
Next day, as soon as the Countess had departed for
High March, the Abbot Richard called Dom Galors, his
almoner, into the parlour and treated him in a very
friendly manner, making him sit down in his presence,
and putting fruit and wine before him. This Galors,
who I think merits some scrutiny, was a bullet-headed,
low-browed fellow, too burly for his monkish frock
(which gave him the look of a big boy in a pinafore),
with the jowl of a master-butcher, and a sullen slack
mouth. His look at you, when he raised his eyes
from the ground, had the hint of brutality—as
if he were naming a price—which women mistake
for mastery, and adore. But he very rarely crossed
eyes with any one; and with the Abbot he had gained
a reputation for astuteness by seldom opening his
lips and never shutting his ears. He was therefore
a most valuable book of reference, which told nothing
