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We will slip her out of the country if we can get any one to take her. Put it she shall be married or hanged." Galors again thought that he understood. The Abbot went on. "There shall be no burning, though that were deserved; not even tumbril, though that were little harm to so hot a piece.
"What may your Highness need of Saint Lucy's poor bedesman?" said the hermit, rubbing his hands together. "My Highness needs the whereabouts of a flitted lady," said the knight in a high clear voice. Isoult, whom the clatter had awakened, lay like a hare in her form. At this time she feared Maulfry more than Galors. "Great sir, we have no flitted ladies here. We are very plain folk."
"How, thy wife, rogue?" said Galors, who was weary of the man. "Lording, she was to have been my wife this day. But she lay last night with my mother, and by the show of a certain token, which unknown to me she wore about her, prevailed upon my mother to let her go. So now she has escaped into the forest, and I am beggared of her without thy help." By this Galors was awake.
Prosper was in love at last; but he did not lose his head on that account. It was not his way. The girl he had first pitied, next desired, then respected, then learned, finally adored, was gone. Well, he would find her no doubt. She had but two enemies, Galors and Maulfry; who hunted in couple just now. She might be anywhere in the world, but it was most likely that where she was they were also.
Prosper watched the flying pair, a quiet smile hovering about his mouth. "My shot told it seems," he said to himself. "If Salomon de Born were not what I believe him to have been, what is the grief of Madam Maulfry? Well, we will see next what Galors de Born has to say to it." He turned his face towards the north and rode on.
Soon Isoult heard the thud of hoofs on the herbage; then Alice came running in to hear the story at large. The two girls became very friendly. Their heads got close together over Prosper and Galors and Maulfry the Golden Knight who was a woman! The escape savoured a miracle, was certainly the act of some heavenly power.
"You do not know her name, Baron?" "She is the Chained Virgin of Saint Thorn, I tell you. She has no other name. She sits in a throne in choir, pale as milk, with burning grey eyes as big as passion-flowers! She is a chained Andromeda on the rock of Peter. Be my Perseus!" "Hum," said Galors, half to himself, "hum! Yes, I will go at once." "My dear friend " "Not a word more, Baron.
They rode at a trot to the crossways; there one cried halt. They were within ten yards of her, but happily there were no dogs. Then she heard another horse that of the captain, as she guessed. She saw him come round the bend of the ride, a burly man, black upon a black horse. There were white feathers in his helmet; on his shield three white wicket-gates. Galors!
Her fear was double now: she must learn the trend of the singer and his horse, and prevent Galors from hearing either. This much she did. The sound came steadily on. She heard the horse's hoofs strike on a flint outside the quarry, she heard Prosper, singing softly to himself. Her time had come. She sprang at arm's-length from Galors and called out, "Help, for charity!" with all her might.
You will see whether the prize is worth my while. I am sure you have taste I know it. Observe, report. Then we will act." "Ravishment of ward?" asked Galors dryly. "Ward! She is not his ward. How can she be? Who is she? Nobody knows. The thing is a crying scandal, my dear friend. A woman in an abbey parlour! An alcove at Holy Thorn! Are we Mohammedans, infidels, Jews of the Old Law? Fie!"
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