“I will show them a woodland trick or two.”
Arrows went past them, first one, and then three flying together and whistling like wind through the keyhole. A cross-bow bolt struck the turf close to Isoult’s heels, and they heard the harsher twang of the arblast cord.
“That was Merlin’s shot. He has poached many a bird.”
“Let them shoot. It means they will lose in the running.”
They heard Merlin’s voice, furious and strident.
“After them. Bring down both, lording and jade.”
The stiffness went out of Fulk’s legs like wax melting before a fire. He felt monstrously strong, ready to run on air, with never a thought of tiring. Isoult, being a woman of sense, had twitched her skirts up over her girdle, and she ran beside him like a deer.
“My desire, you have good wings.”
She laughed, feeling the mounting pride of his manhood in her.
“An I were naked I would dare any man to catch me—save you, perhaps!”