'Thou canst not hide it, Eadgyth; thou wouldst do more kindly to tell me all.'
'Thou knowest the young knight, Sir Aimand de Sourdeval, who rides in thy bridegroom's meinie?' said Eadgyth in a low hesitating tone.
She had taken Emma's hand in her own, and was twisting the betrothal ring which circled the slender third finger round and round, but, though her face was averted, her white neck and forehead grew pink under Emma's gaze.
'A gallant knight and of good lineage,' said Emma quietly. 'My brother said but the other day that he counted him amongst the best lances he knows.'
'Thou wilt remember he rescued my poor gazehound Freya from the fangs of the wolf the day thy Danish hawk was first flown, and leeched her tenderly after, even using on her a talisman which had been given to him by a holy palmer from the East, nursing the poor beast as gently as if she had been a human child.'
''Tis a good sign in a man to show tenderness to the poor beasts who cannot make their wrongs public,' said Emma. 'He who will suffer inconvenience to save a beast pain, will not do less for weak women or feeble children that come under his charge.'
Eadgyth looked up with sparkling agreement in her eyes, but bent her head again as she continued,—
'This evening, as we drew near the goal of our journey, he took advantage of his duty as escort to ride his destrier close to the side of my palfrey, and asked me what colours I meant to wear at the tourney, and to give him a favour to wear in his helm, with many compliments, saying my good renown was such that the noble Godfrey de Bouillon himself would not disdain to break a lance in my honour.'
'And what was thine answer, sweet friend?' asked Emma. 'I know not what in this can find thee food for grief.'
Eadgyth continued in a grave and measured voice,—