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Their assailants, without any further speech among themselves, beat at the door furiously, or with short runs hurtled against it with their shoulders. It seemed impossible it should stand, yet stand it did. Then one, Galors, cried suddenly out, "Fetch a hatchet!" and another ran helter-skelter down the corridor. The rest seemed to be waiting for him; the battering ceased.
Sometimes they spoke of Hauterive town and a castle there, sometimes of Wanmeeting and a high bailiff; but Goltres seemed most in Galors' mind. Finally they took the road to Wanmeeting. Isoult waited till the sound of the horses died in the swishing of trees, and then sped forward on her feet towards her lord. She knew she was near by, and would not risk time or discovery by catching her pony.
But there is no pietist like your reformed rake; so Falve left the huckster's shop vowing vengeance. The day was July 18, and all the town astir, for Galors de Born and his riders were just in from a raid. On July 14 Prosper left Wanmeeting at a gallop, in the driving rain.
If he had followed the two-out of sight by now he would have got nearer his heart's desire; but he could not do that. He had formed a judgment calmly. If he wanted Isoult he must find Galors. Galors had Hauterive but had not Goltres. Therefore Galors was at Goltres. Prosper always accredited his enemies with his own quality. So he rode away from Isoult as proud as a pope.
He felt a certain pity she a handsome girl, too, though his type for choice was blonde for her simplicity, and, as he certainly wished to obtain mercy, reflected upon the possible blessings of the merciful. Besides, Galors was at large, Galors who knew the story, to say nothing of Prosper, also at large, who did not know the story, but did know, on the other hand, the Countess Isabel.
"Excellent," said Prosper, and drained his glass. "Of this Galors, whom I think you know," Spiridion continued, "I hear bad reports. "You are right there, my friend," laughed Prosper. "If he murders me," the other went on, sipping his wine, "it will be on some such night as this." "I have just said as much to myself," Prosper replied; "but I will do my best to prevent him, I assure you."
There followed a babble of voices speaking all at once; afterwards the same shrill voice took up his challenge, wailing like the wind "Spiridion, open the door before we break it in." Prosper said again "Will you have me for Spiridion?" "We will have both, by God," rang a deep note, the voice of Galors. As if at a signal swords began to batter at the door, pommels and blades.
If you were Galors and needed counsel you would not choose the wood; naturally you would avoid Malbank. There would remain to you Wanmouth. Galors went to Wanmouth. It was the Countess's country of course; but his disguise was good enough. People read the arms and hailed a le Gai or one of that house. It was at Wanmouth that he learned what he wanted.
This good man had indeed made the most of his achievements, and, reflecting that Prosper had gone alone to tackle Galors, whereof he was indubitably dead, and that it was a pity no one should be any the better for such a mishap, had told the whole story to his mistress, carefully leaving the hero's name out of account. "For why," said the Bailiff, "cause a woman to shed unavailing tears?"
He lay at night in the open wood, not far, as he judged, from Spurnt Heath, upon whose westernmost border ran Wan; there, or near by, he looked to find the Abbey. He spent the night at least better than did Dom Galors, whose thoughts turned equally to Spurnt Heath. That strenuous man had taken the Abbot's counsel to bed with him, a restless partner.
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