"Will they kill you?"
"Ah, no! There is not enough mercy with them for that."
"Ah, you have done no ill?"
"I served God this morning. I could not have dared."
"True. Who is that knight?"
"I will tell you everything. No man could be so wicked as that knight.
It is a woman, desperately wicked. She is in league with a man who
would do the worst with me. Save me! save me! save me!" She began to
wring her hands, and to blubber, without wits or measure left.
Alice put her hands on her. "Yes, I will save you. Get into bed and
lie down. There is a page with the knight. Do you know him?"
"Yes, yes. He will do no harm. He is good."
"Very well. Lie down, and you shall be saved."
Alice went out again into the open.
"Sir knight," she was heard to say, "I have asked Roy, who came hither
this morning early to serve our Mass. He has seen no one."
"Who is Roy?" said the knight sharply.
"He was server this morning. He is asleep after a long journey."
"Where?"
"Sir, we have little enough room. He is in my own chamber lying on my
bed."
The knight gave a dry laugh.
"You mean that I may not venture into a lady's chamber, shameface?
Well, a boy may go where a boy is, I suppose. Vincent, go and explore
the acolyte."
"The page may come," said Alice, and watched him go, not without
interest, perhaps not without amusement.
The unconscious Vincent was Isoult's next visitant, stepping briskly
into the room. He came right up to the bed as in his right and
element, a boy dealing with a boy's monkey tricks. One watchful grey
eye, the curve of one rosy cheek peering from the blankets, told him a
new story.
"Oh, Isoult," says he in a twitter, "is it you indeed?"
"Yes, hush! You will never betray me, Vincent?"
"Betray!" he cried. "Ah, Saints! My tongue would blister if I let the
truth on you. But you are quite safe. The damsel won't let her in; she
thinks she has a man to deal with. Me she let in!" Vincent chuckled at
the irony of the thing. Then he grew anxious over his beloved.
"You had no mishaps? You are not hurt? Tired?"
"All safe. Not tired now. What will she do next?"
"Ah, there! She is for High March. That I know. She means to find you
there. She means mischief. You must take great care. You have never
seen her in mischief. I have. Oh, Christ!" He winced at the
recollection.
"I will go advisedly," said Isoult. "Have no fear for me. I shall be
there before she is."