She shook her head.
“What is thy dearest possession?” he asked, still bantering. “Most women count their modesty. Wouldst thou give that?”
She said, weeping, “I would trust in Mary.”
He stamped down his foot.
“Trust, then! Strip off thy robe, ride naked through the town—so then I will believe thee.”
She looked up at him amazed. The colour flushed and waned in her round cheek, leaving it a lily white.
“But will you give me leave to do so?” she whispered.
“Aye,” he said, breathing scorn.
“And, being done, remit the tolls and set thy people free?”
“On my knightly oath,” he swore, and, in a sudden tickle of humour, chucked her soft chin, and went off between anger and hard laughter.