new-lighted rage, Galors struggling to justify his
treachery by its only excuse. Below his armpits
he felt Prosper’s grip upon him; he was encumbered
with shield and sword, both useless—the
sword, in fact, sawing the air. Then they fell
together, Prosper above; and that was the end of the
bout. Prosper slipped out his poniard and drove
it in between the joints of the gorget. Then
he got up, breathing hard, and looked at his enemy
as he lay jerking on the grass, and at the bright
stream coming from his neck.
“The price of treachery is heavy,” said
he. “I ought to kill him. And there
are villainies behind that to be reckoned with, to
say nothing of all the villainies to do when that
hole shall be stuffed. The shield—ah,
the shield! No, monk, on second thoughts, I will
not kill you yet. It would be dealing as you
dealt, it would prevent our meeting again; it would
cut me off all chance of learning the history of your
arms. White wicket-gates! Where, under heaven’s
eye, have I been brought up against three white wicket-gates?
Ha! there is a motto too.” Entra per me,
he read, and was no wiser. “This man and
I will meet again,” he said. “Meantime
I will remember Entra per me.” He
raised his voice to call to Isoult—“Come,
child; the way is clear enough.”
She came over the brook at once, alighted on the further
side, and came creeping up to her husband to kneel
before him as once before that morning; but he put
his hand on her shoulder to stay her. “Come,”
he said, smiling, “no more ceremony between you
and me, my dear. Rather let us get forward out
of the reach of hue-and-cry. For when the foresters
find him that will be the next move in the game.”
To Galors he turned with a “By your leave, my
friend,” and took his sword; then having put
Isoult upon her donkey and mounted his own beast,
he led the way up the ridge wondering where they had
best turn to avoid hue-and-cry. Isoult, who guessed
his thoughts, told him of the minster at Gracedieu.
Sanctuary attached to the Church, she said, as all
the woodlanders knew.
“Excellent indeed,” Prosper cried; “that
jumps with what I had determined on before. Moreover,
I suppose that Gracedieu is outside the Malbank fee?”
“Yes, lord, it is far beyond that.”
“And how far is it to Gracedieu?”
“It is the journey of two days and nights, my
lord.”
“Well,” said he, “then those nights
we must sleep in the forest. How will that suit
you, child?”
“Ah, my lord,” breathed the girl, “I
have very often slept there.”
“And what shall we do for food, Isoult?”
“I will provide for that, my lord.”
CHAPTER IX
THE BLOOD-CHASE AND THE LOVE-CHASE
Copyrights
The Forest Lovers from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
