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Updated: May 18, 2025
As the black mane of his horse drew level with Icon's head, and side by side they rode out from the courtyard, she feared a thunder-cloud on the Knight's brow, and a sullen silence, as the best she could expect. But calm and cheerful, his voice fell on her ear; and glancing at him furtively, she still saw on his face that light which dazzled her heart.
Up the glade they flew; out into the sunshine; clear into the open. Here was the moor! Here the highroad, at last! And there in the distance, the grey walls of Hugh's castle; the portals of home. It was the Knight's trusted foster-brother, Martin Goodfellow, amazed, yet smiling a glad welcome, who held Icon's bridle as Mora dismounted in the courtyard.
He looked into the clear eyes bent upon him; glanced at the firm hand, arrested for a moment in its caress of Icon's neck; then decided that, though the truth might probably be unexpected, a lie would most certainly be unwise. "Truth to tell," said Martin Goodfellow, "Sir Hugh was testing his armour, and sharpening his battle-axe."
With a sudden rush, some wild animal, huge and heavy, went crashing through the undergrowth. Stealthy footsteps seemed to keep pace with Icon's, high up among the tree trunks. Yet this valley of the shadow held no terrors for the woman whose heart was now so blissfully at rest.
"Riding into the courtyard, just as Philip led in the palfrey, I bade him first to see to Icon's comfort; then come to my chamber and report. Before long the lay-brother appeared. "Now Brother Philip is an excellent teller of stories. He does not need to mar them by additions, because his quickness of observation takes in every detail, and his excellent memory lets nothing slip.
She took it from him, tested its point, slipped it into the sheath at her belt, smiled upon the boy, descended the remaining steps, and laid her hand upon Icon's mane. Then it was that Mistress Deborah's agitated signals from within the doorway, took effect upon old Zachary. Coming forward, he bared his white head, and adventured a humble expostulation.
They had not known the Prioress of the White Ladies. Bending from the saddle, her hand on Icon's mane: "I go to my husband, Zachary," she said, "and I choose to ride alone."
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