Thibaut drew a deep breath. “My Lady Audiart, trust us, we will!” His black eyes snapped, a laugh passed like a wave across his face that grew ruddier. “By Peter and Paul! Now and again in life I myself have come to places where I must see further than my fellows and dig deeper, or they and I would perish!—This is a bold thing that you propose, my lady, and may go to the left instead of the right! Aye! without doubt Faint-Heart would say, ‘You follow marsh-fire and trust weight to a straw!’”
“Yes.... In the story of things what seemed a beam has been found to be a straw, and what seemed a straw a beam. May it be so this time!... Now what we have talked of rests until Lord Stephen takes command.”
A week of days and nights went by, filled with a bitter fighting. But Stephen the Marshal grew stronger, like the old iron soldier and good general that he was. Arrived an evening when he came into hall, walking without help, and though gaunt and pale so nearly himself that all rejoiced. The next day he mounted horse and rode beside the princess through the town to the eastern gate where was now the fiercest fighting. The knights, the men-at-arms and citizens cried him welcome. That night Audiart held full council. When morning came it was heralded through Roche-de-Frêne that the princess had made Lord Stephen general again.
Audiart listened to the trumpets, then with Maeut she went into the castle garden and found there Alazais and Guida. She sat beside Alazais beneath a tree whereon hung yet the gold leaves, and taking her stepdame’s hand, caressed it. “Come siege, go siege!” she said, “you rest so beauteous—!”
“Audiart! Audiart! when is anxiousness, misery, and fear going to end? And now they say that you command that every table alike be given less of food—”
The princess stroked the other’s wrist, smiling upon her. “You know that you do not wish bread taken from another to be laid in your hand!”
“No, I do not wish that, but—” The tears fell from Alazais’s eyes. “What have we done that the world should turn so black?”
“Be of cheer!” said Audiart. “The black may lighten!” She laughed at her step-dame, and at Guida’s melancholy look. “In these earthy ways loss has its boundary stone no less than gain! Who knows but that to-day we turn?—Come close, Guida and Maeut, for I have something to say to you three, and want no other—no, not a sparrow—to hear me!” She spoke on, in a low voice, with occasionally an aiding gesture, Maeut kindling quickly, the other two incredulous, objecting, resisting, then, at last, catching, too, at the straw....
That morning Montmaure did not push to the assault. Viewed from the walls, it seemed that the two counts made changes in the disposition of the besieging host. Here battalions were drawing closer, here spreading fan-wise.