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Updated: June 23, 2025
"All is well, dear friend," said Galors; "I did but shift and let a little curse. Go to bed, Maulfry." Isoult had the wit to withdraw. What little she had left after that pointed a shaking finger at one thing only flight. She had been unutterably betrayed. Her conception of the universe reeled over and was lost in fire.
She had been a forester all her life. Deerleap, One Ash, the Wolves' Valley, the Place of the Withered Elm, the Charcoal-Burners', the Mossy Christ, the Birch- grove, the Brook under the Brow and a hundred more. She steered by these, with all foresters. What she did not remember, or did not know, was that Maulfry had also lived in Morgraunt and knew the ways by heart.
Galors probably knew the truth of it, for he was very often at Tortsentier. He knew, for instance, of Maulfry's taste for armour. The place was full of it, and had a frieze of shields, which Maulfry herself polished every day, as brave with blazonry as on the day they first went out before their masters. Maulfry was very fond of heraldry.
"That is my name, Madam Maulfry. You know me at last." "Yes, I know you. Take care. You are in no friendly country." "I am a very friendly soul, but I will take care. You, I think, have many friends in these parts one in special, a holy person, a man of religion. Is it so?" "He is a man of many parts, Prosper. He hath an arm." "He hath a gullet, I know," said Prosper cheerfully.
Maulfry, waking first, looked at her as she lay pillowing her cheek on her arm, with her wild hair spread behind her like a dark cloud. Maulfry, I say, looked at her. "You are a little beauty, my dear," she thought to herself. "Countess or bastard, you are a little beauty. And there is countess in your blood somewhere, I'll take an oath. Hands and feet, neck and head, tell the story.
Maulfry laughed again as she looked up at her armour. Galors' look followed hers. "Choose, Galors," she said; "choose, my champion. Choose, Sir Galors de Born!" Galors took a long and deliberate survey. "I will go in black," said he, "and for the rest, since I am no man of race, the coat is indifferent to me." So he began to read and comment upon his texts.
Might it not be, Come and find me?" "He is ah, he is ill?" "He is well." "In danger?" "I know of none." "I am to leave Gracedieu and come with you, ma'am?" "Yes. Are you afraid?" For answer Isoult fell flat down and kissed Maulfry's silver hem. "I will follow you to death!" she cried. Maulfry shivered, then arched her brows. "It will not be so bad as all that," she said.
To such harangues, delivered with a pretty air of mockery and extravagance, which was never allowed to get out of hand, Isoult listened as she had listened to the cheerful prophetics of the Abbess of Gracedieu, with her gentle smile and her locked lips. Maulfry talked by the hour together while she and Isoult sat weaving a tapestry.
"Whether I succeed or not and as to that much depends upon you I am resolved to abjure my frock and my vows, and to aim henceforward for a temporal crown." "I think the frock is all that need concern you," said Maulfry. "You are right, pretty lady," he replied "and that shall concern me no more. You shall furnish me with a suit of mail out of your store, with a shield, a good spear and a sword.
"Stay where you are, dame," he said. Maulfry gave a jump. "Bastard!" She spat at him, and whipped a knife into his heart. Vincent sobbed, and fell with a thud. In a trice Isoult had struck with her dagger at Maulfry's shoulder. Steel struck steel: the blade broke short off at the haft. A guard came out with a torch, saw the trouble, and turned shouting to his mates.
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