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Updated: June 7, 2025
The charcoal-burners' Jack had hair to his waist and had to hide it in his cap; the charcoal-burners' beards were six weeks old. There was talk of nights of a market in Hauterive, where Falve's mother kept a huckster's shop. Prosper's aim on leaving High March after his gests of arms had been Goltres, for there he had believed to find Galors.
As for Prosper, he bided his time with a broken head in Peering Pool. On the morning after the storm at Goltres, July 18, Galors sat in the hall of his stronghold habited as he had ridden in but a few hours before. In came a red-haired peasant, asking to be made his man. "Why so, fellow?" asked Galors. "Lording," said Falve, "because my mother hath done me a wrong." "Why, thou dog?" cried Galors.
And as to fighting at my back, I promise you I am a most indifferent leader, being, as you see, somewhat immersed in other affairs." Prosper had really very little to say in answer to this. By way of changing the talk, he asked if the castle were not Goltres.
I am for Goltres if I can win a passage." Riding up the shore of the lake he found an old punt. "Saracen," said he to his horse, "I shall take to the water. Thou shalt go thy will this night, and may heaven send thee the luck of thy master." So saying he unbridled him, took off his saddle and let him go, himself got into the punt and pushed out over the mere.
In all the dun waste of raw and cold it was Goltres or nothing for a night's lodging. "Galors has been before me again," thought Prosper. "The place is a skeleton, the husk of a house. Well, there must be a corner left which will keep the rain out. We shall have more before day, if I am anything of a prophet."
She was nearly done, "You have made a push for it, my shaver," said the second guard, after a study from head to toe. "My business pushed me." "Ah, trouble in the forest, eh? Are the roads clear?" "I met with a company." "How many pikes?" "Nearer sixty than fifty." "Where bound?" "Goltres, I understood." "Who led?" "A black knight." "Ah. Were you mounted, my lad?" "Not then. I was in hiding."
By the little light there was he could make out the line of the dark hull of Goltres, by the little wit he had he remembered that the water-gate was midway the building or thereabouts. He turned his face to the wall and, half clinging, half swimming, edged along it till he reached port. The last ebb of his strength sufficed to drag him up the stair; then he floated off into blankness again.
This was the state of affairs when Prosper passed the edge of the High March demesnes and took the road for Wanmeeting and Goltres. He had not gone far out of the Countess's borders before he saw what had happened. The country had been wasted by fire and sword: cottages burnt out, trampled gardens, green cornlands black and bruised desolation everywhere, but no life. Death he did come upon.
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