Messire Prosper le Gai with his dozen men had scoured the forest
country from March on the east to Wanmeeting on the west, and from
March-Gilbert among the hills of the north to Gracedieu in Mid-
Morgraunt, without any sign of the Egyptian. But at Wanmeeting there
had been news of a golden knight, who, unattended, rode into the
market-place at sunset asking the whereabouts of Galors de Born and
his force. Having learned that they had taken the Goltres road the
knight had posted off at a gallop, hot foot. Now Prosper knew what
sort of a force Galors might have there, and guessed (from what
intelligence Isoult had added to his own) that the golden knight would
make at least two brains in it. To follow, to get his dozen men
killed, were nothing; but could he be certain Galors would be dropped
and Maulfry secured for the appointed branding before the last of them
fell? As for his own life, we know that he considered that arranged
for. He habitually left it out of the reckoning. On the whole,
however, he decided that he could not successfully attack. He must
return for reinforcements, taking with him a report which, he relied,
would secure them. Waisford had been raided, the fields about it laid
waste. There were evidences of burnings and slaughterings on all
hands. He put what heart he could into the scared burgesses before he
left, and what common-sense. But Galors had gone through like a hot
wind.
So Prosper and his men returned to High March. On the morning in which
Isoult stirred to open her loaded eyes, and began to moan a little, he
and they went by within some forty yards of her--the troopers first,
then himself riding alone behind them. He heard the moaning sound and
looked up; indeed, he saw the black ram standing, alone as he thought,
with drooped head. Prosper was full of affairs. "Some ewe but lately
yeaned," he thought as he rode on. The glaze swam again over Isoult's
eyes, and the moaning grew faint and near its death. The ram fell to
licking her cheek. In this pass she was presently found by a charcoal-
burner, who had delivered his loads, and was now journeying back with
his asses into the heart of the forest. He also heard the moaning; he
too saw the ram. Perhaps he knew more of the habits of ewes or had
them readier in mind. He may have had no affairs. The beast, at any
rate, was a ram for him, and the licked cheek that of a murdered boy
who lay with the other cheek on the sward. The blood about his eyes
and hair, the blood on the grass, was dry blood; nevertheless the man
turned him over, felt his bones, listened at his heart, and made up
his mind that he was not dead. A little wine to his lips brought him
to. The charcoal-burner looked into the wounds and washed them,
produced black bread, goat's-milk cheese, with a little more wine,
finally helped the beaten lad to his feet and to one of his asses. He
assumed it was a fight and not a failure to murder: that was safer for
him. With the same view he asked no questions. It was a pity to leave
the ram, he thought. Butcher's meat was scarce. He killed it then and
there, having plenty of asses to hand. In that category, with little
doubt, must be placed the ram in question, who, had he had a proper
abhorrence of persons who rode him face to the tail, would have kept
his skin and lived to found a family.