Again there was a knocking at the door, and when she opened a rough voice enquiring for me.
“He has been sleeping and is better, but he has been much bruised and must stay the night.”
“Nay, Nay!” said the archer, “that must not be. I am bidden to bring him straight to the Castle.”
“He is my patient,” she replied, “and I tell thee I will not have him moved, Count or no Count.”
“You must even have your way, Lady,” said he, “But I see a heavy reckoning to be paid if he come not soon.”
“I will answer,” said she.
When she returned: “I am beholden to you, Lady,” I said, “for your too great kindness. But I must not lead you into danger. That would be a poor return. Let me be led to the Count.”
“How say you?” she replied, “would you put your head in the noose? I tell you the Count is bitterly angry with the Count de Charolois and will hang all his men.”
“I care not,” said I, “I will not see you led into danger through my fault;” so saying, I sought to rise but fell back almost fainting.
“See,” said she, “was I not right? You are unfit to go, and I will not have you go until you are fit!” Here her eyes flashed and she stamped her little foot fiercely.