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Updated: June 15, 2025
I will that you make haste and come again to our castle in Paris, both because you shall at all times be welcome, and more especially now, and quickly, because the noble maiden Beatrix de Curboil is now at this court among my ladies, and is in great hope of seeing you, since she has left her father to be under my protection.
"Who is her husband?" he asked under his breath. Before the abbot answered, his grasp tightened upon Gilbert's hands with a friendly grip that was meant to inspire courage. "Your mother has married Sir Arnold de Curboil." Gilbert sprang to his feet, as though he had been struck in the face by an enemy.
"Let no man stir, for no man shall pass out who would burn Stortford. Sir Arnold de Curboil is the king's man, and the king has the power in England; so that if we should burn down Stortford Castle to-night, he would burn Stoke Manor to-morrow over my mother's head. Between Arnold de Curboil and me there is death. To-morrow I shall ride out to find him, and kill him in fair fight.
He desired to follow Beatrix with the ships, for he had not seen Sir Arnold de Curboil since Christmas Eve, and he believed that he had gone back to Ephesus to sail for Syria, so that at the present time he could not suddenly surprise his daughter and carry her away, to force her to a marriage of which heirs might be born to his great possessions in England.
As they thronged about him, there came Sir Arnold de Curboil, pressing his way among them, and when he was before Gilbert he also held out his hand. "Gilbert Warde," he asked, "do you not know me?" "I know you, sir," answered the young knight, in a clear voice that all could hear, "but I will not take your hand."
In less than half an hour from the time when Gilbert had reached the castle, he and his enemy were riding quietly side by side in a little glade in Stortford wood. Gilbert drew rein and walked his horse, and Sir Arnold instantly did the same. Then Gilbert spoke. "Sir Arnold de Curboil, it is now full three days since I saw you treacherously kill my father."
So it came to pass that Goda took her husband's loving generosity and her son's devotion as matters foregone and of course, which were her due, and which might stay hunger, though they could not satisfy her vanity's large appetite; and she took, besides, such other things, both good and bad, as she found in her path, especially and notably the heart of Arnold de Curboil, a widowed knight, cousin to that Archbishop of Canterbury who had crowned Stephen king, after swearing allegiance to Maud.
"My own!" exclaimed Gilbert. "Is Stoke not mine? Am I not my father's son?" "Curboil has got Stoke Regis by treachery, as he got your mother.
"My lords," he answered, "he is Sir Arnold de Curboil, my stepfather; for when he had killed my father, he married my mother and stole my lands. I fought him when I was but a boy, and he left me for dead in the forest; and now I think that he is come from England to seek occasion against me; but if I live I shall get back my inheritance.
We talk of him now and then, because he is unlike the other knights, mixing little with them in the camp and riding often alone on the march. They say he is very poor, and he is surely brave." "What does Beatrix de Curboil say of him?" The Queen's voice was still sharp. "Beatrix? She is my friend, poor girl. I never heard her speak of this gentleman." "She is very silent, is she not?" "Oh, no!
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