Galors swallowed the pill and went out with no more
ceremony. Falve ran after him.
“Eh, eh, Messire!” he spluttered.
Galors let him splutter till they were within the
courtyard. Then he called to a trooper.
“Take this man and flog him well,” said
he. Falve was seized.
“Ah, my lording,” cried he, “what
do you there? Must I be flogged because I have
lost my wife?”
“No, dog. But because you have married
mine.”
“Nay, nay, mercy, my lording! I have not
yet married her.”
“Ha!” said Galors, “then you shall
be flogged for jilting her.”
And flogged he was. And the flogging cost Galors
his prize.
Galors now bestirred himself. First he sat down
and wrote a letter to the Countess, thus conceived.
“To the high lady, the Lady Isabel de Forz,
Countess of Hauterive, Countess Dowager of March and
Bellesme, Lady of Morgraunt—Galors de Born,
Lord of Hauterive, Goltres, and West Wan, sendeth greeting
in the Lord everlasting.
“That which your Serenity lost early is not
too late found, and by us. The crystal locket,
having the pelican in the Crown of Thorns, when we
bring it upon the bosom where it hath ever slept waiting
for the day which shall reveal it to you, will testify
whether we lie or lie not. Know, however, that
she shall assuredly come, and not unattended; but
as, befits her condition, under the hand of him who,
having found her, will provide that she be not lost
again. It is not unknown to you, High Mightiness,
how our power and estate have grown in these days to
the threatening of your own. So it is, indeed,
that now, in blood, in fees, in renown, in power of
life and member, we are near enough to you to seek
alliance still more close. And this is the last
word of Galors; let the wearer of the crystal locket
come home as the betrothed of the Lord Galors de Born,
and heiress of High March and Morgraunt, Countess
of Hauterive in time to be, and she shall come indeed.
Otherwise she comes not; but Hauterive wears the crown
which High March looks to put on. Thus we commend
you to the holy keeping of God. From our tower
of Hauterive, on the feast of Saint Arnulphus, bishop
and martyr, the 15th calends of August, in the first
year of our principality West of Wan.”
This letter, sealed with the three wicket-gates and
the circumscript, Entra per me, he sent forward
at once by a party of six riders, one of whom carried
a flag of truce. Then with but three to follow
him, he rode out of the town, taking the path for Thornyhold
Brush.
MERCY WITH THE BEASTS
