There was a ring of hoofs outside, but no one looked round, and none
came in. A shadow fell across the open door. At a Dominus
Vobiscum you might have seen the ministrant falter; there might
have been a second or two of check in his chant, but he mastered it
without effort, and turned again with displayed hands to his affair.
The choir of white hoods, however, watched the shadow at the west
door. Isoult saw nothing and heard nothing; she was kneeling at
prayer. It may be doubted if any prayed but the girl and the priest.
The holy office proceeded; the Sanctus bell shrilled for the first
time. Hoofs shattered scandalously on the flags, and Galors, with an
armed man on either hand of him, rode into the nave. The choir rose in
a body, the nave huddled; Isoult, as she believed, saw Prosper, spear,
crest, and shield. Her heart gave a great leap, then stood still.
Perhaps there was a flicker in the Abbot's undertone; his lips may
have been dry; but his courage was beyond proof. He held on.
Isoult was blanched as a cloth; lips, fingers and ears, the tongue in
her open mouth--all creeks for the blood were ebbed dry. Her awful
eyes, fixed and sombre stars, threatened to gulf her in their dark.
Love was drowned in such horror as this.
Galors swung out of the saddle. In the breathless place the din of
that act came like a thunder-peal, crackling and crashing, like to
wreck the church. He drew his sword, with none to stay him, and strode
forward. If the Abbot Richard heard his step up the choir the man is
worthy of all memory, for he went on with his manual acts, and his
murmur of prayer never ceased. He may have heard nothing--who knows
what his motions were? He was a brave man.
The bell rang--rang again--God beamed in the Host. The people wavered,
but use held. They bowed prone before God in His flake of new flesh.
"Deus in adjutorium," muttered the Abbot to himself.
"Entra per me!" thundered Galors, and ran him through the body.
After the first shudder had swept through the church there was no
sound at all, until some woman hidden began a low moan, and keened the
Abbot Richard. No one dared to stir while those grim horsemen in the
nave sat like rocks.
Galors turned to Isoult where she froze rigid in her throne, severed
the chain at a blow, and went to take her. Some sudden thought struck
him; he turned her quickly round to the light and without ceremony
fumbled at her neck. She grew sick to feel him touch her.
"The Abbot hath it." Her lips formed the words. Galors went back to
the dead priest and pulled off chain and locket.