As he spoke they came in sight of the Red Castle. Rainulf’s hold was a rude, great place, moat and bridge and wall, towers and keep. It crowned a hill and looked down upon a river, and by the river cowered a wretched village of huts. Around stretched field and forest, and more forest than field. The sky hung grey. Ravens were flying above a wood, and the hill, when Rainulf’s horn was blown, threw back a sullen echo.
Mellissent, Rainulf’s wife, watched from the wall the troop come up the road. She had two tire-maidens with her, and she spoke to them. “Is not that a woman?”
“Yea, mistress.”
“Ever he nets new birds! Well, I would I were a man!”
That was one day. Mellissent waited two days, then, Rainulf riding on business to the north, sent and bade to her presence the new-caught bird. “Stand there!... You soothsay?”
“Falsely when I am paid, lady, and sometimes truly when I gain naught.”
“Then soothsay as to yourself.”
“Then will I for you,” said Mellissent. “Rainulf will hold you in liking for a month, then will he wish other food. Most women have no other claim than being women; whether that is their fault or sorrow or mournful plight put upon them, I cannot say. You can tell what fortune will befall, so you may not be thrust out at gate. So long as your fortune-telling pleases Rainulf you shall have your hole in the wall and your crust of bread. ’Ware any soothsaying that does not please him!—for then you will be only woman again.”
“I shall not stay the month, dame,” said Gersonde.