Dame Alianora smiled up at him.  “Ouais, messire; mon mary faict les chancons—­” She paused, with dilatory caution, for Camoys had leaped from his horse, giving a great laugh.

“A prize! ho, an imperial prize!” Camoys shouted.  “A peasant woman with the Queen’s face, who speaks French!  And who, madame, is this?  Have you by any chance brought pious Lewis from oversea?  Have I bagged a brace of monarchs?”

Here was imminent danger, for Camoys had known the Queen some fifteen years.  Messire Heleigh rose, his five days’ beard glinting like hoar-frost as his mouth twitched.

“I am Osmund Heleigh, messire, younger brother to the Earl of Brudenel.”

“I have heard of you, I believe—­the fellow who spoils parchment.  This is odd company, however, Messire Osmund, for Brudenel’s brother.”

“A gentleman must serve his Queen, messire.  As Cicero very justly observes—­”

“I am inclined to think that his political opinions are scarcely to our immediate purpose.  This is a high matter, Messire Heleigh.  To let the sorceress pass is, of course, out of the question; upon the other hand, I observe that you lack weapons of defence.  Yet if you will have the kindness to assist me in unarming, your courtesy will place our commerce on more equal footing.”

Osmund had turned very white.  “I am no swordsman, messire—­”

“Now, this is not handsome of you,” Camoys began.  “I warn you that people will speak harshly of us if we lose this opportunity of gaining honor.  And besides, the woman will be burned at the stake.  Plainly, you owe it to all three of us to fight.”

“—­But I refer my cause to God.  I am quite at your service.”  “No, my Osmund!” Dame Alianora then cried.  “It means your death.”

He spread out his hands.  “That is God’s affair, madame.”

“Are you not afraid?” she breathed.

“Of course I am afraid,” said Messire Heleigh, irritably.

After that he unarmed Camoys, and presently they faced each other in their tunics.  So for the first time in the journey Osmund’s long falchion saw daylight.  He had thrown away his dagger, as Camoys had none.

The combat was sufficiently curious.  Camoys raised his left hand.  “So help me God and His saints, I have upon me neither bone, stone, nor witchcraft wherethrough the power and the word of God might be diminished or the devil’s power increased.”

Osmund made similar oath.  “Judge Thou this woman’s cause!” he cried, likewise.

Then Gui Camoys shouted, as a herald might have done, “Laissez les aller, laissez les aller, laissez les aller, les bons combatants!” and warily each moved toward the other.