Sir Michael was beside himself for joy. He could scarce stand upon his legs for joy, and challenged the whole world to wrestle with him.
But the soul of Sir Simon was steadied and cooled by the reflection: How was it that such a rich lord disposed so readily of his lady-daughters, and gave them to wife to the first comers without wooing or sueing?
Nevertheless, it was a fact, whether he believed himself to be awake or imagined himself to be asleep, it had happened all the same. Sir Fulko joined their hands together; Meryza drew from her finger a diamond ring, which she placed on the finger of Sir Michael; while Siona gave a thin circlet to Sir Simon as a token of their espousals, the knights giving them in exchange from their fingers old ancestral rings of great price; whereupon the whole army of guests, suddenly converted into a bridal party, proceeded forthwith to the castle chapel, where a priestly shape united the two couples in holy matrimony according to the ritual of the Catholic Faith, decently and in order to the accompaniment of hymns and organ.
Sir Michael and the fair Meryza withdrew to their appointed bridal-chamber, but Sir Simon said to his bride: "I will remain here a little while before the altar to thank God for His wondrous benefits, inasmuch as He has delivered me out of jeopardy and guided my footsteps into the path of liberty. It was but yesterday the wolves were lying in wait for me, and now to-day I am blessed with a good consort like you. Go back to your room, and I will shortly come after you."
For about an hour Sir Simon remained there beside the altar, which was embellished with the statues of the Saints; he felt inclined to bless these holy images one after the other, but then he thought that perhaps Siona might be growing impatient at his long delay.
"Forgive me, Siona, for remaining so long in the chapel," said he, on his return; "but I had so many thanks to render to God this day."
"Indeed, you have many reasons to thank God," said Siona; "for marvellously hath He delivered you from death this day. You may thank God that you sat beside me instead of by Meryza, for Saksin would assuredly have fastened a quarrel upon you in any case; and had you not taken heed and avoided his grip, you would have been a dead man now. You may also thank God that you drank not out of your own beaker, but out of mine, in which there was water; for the rim of your beaker was smeared with stupefying poison, and if your lips had touched it, you would have been drugged and died before dawn. But you may thank God a hundred times over that you did not stretch out your hand after Meryza when they allowed you to choose between us, as hundreds have done before you, who are all dead; for you most certainly would have followed them."
"But what sort of a house can this be, then?" inquired the terrified Simon.
"A house of robbers and murderers. Sir Fulko is a bandit-chief; he is not my father, but my step-father, who tormented my mother to death. Meryza, on the contrary, is his daughter, of whom they relate horrors. These guests, who walk about in cloth of gold, the companions of Fulko and his daughter, are every one of them murderers a hundred times over, and accursed. Formerly, until last year, they scoured the counties far and wide, in bands, on their predatory adventures. Sometimes Meryza herself led them, and she is more merciless even than her father in these nocturnal massacres. Since, however, Heaven in its wrath has inflicted this great blow on our country, and let loose the Tatars upon it, Fulko's bands have not gone forth plundering. They fear to fall in with stronger robbers than themselves, so they hung large bells in their towers, and the far-sounding voices of the bells decoy from afar those who are seeking a refuge from the Tartars. When rich nobles or chapmen come hither they are hospitably welcomed; their treasures are taken charge of, and they themselves are disposed of the very first night. If there are handsome youths amongst them they are made sport of, as you were. Fulko offers them the choice of his daughters. The youth, intoxicated by the drugged wine, demand the hand of Meryza, and they conduct him to the altar. A robber, clothed in the vestments of some murdered priest, unites them, and he finds himself her husband. When Meryza gives the signal they ring the bell outside; an alarm of 'fire' is raised; the young husband is aroused from his slumbers, and the moment he rushes from the bedroom all trace of him is lost, and the next day there is a fresh comer, another death, another sacrifice."
"Horrible!" cried Sir Simon. "And is Michael there at this moment? Where is he, I say?"