“Lead the way, Jack. We follow.”
The archer had had his order, and walked with his bow strung and an arrow ready.
Knollys held back, letting the black knight and the page go forward. He waited for Cavendish, and spoke to him behind his hand.
“Friend, we shall be thanked for knowing that we are not wanted. Let them talk—let them talk.”
It was a still night, with hundreds of stars shining, silver points in sable velvet. The man in black and the page rode side by side, the archer and the guide some twenty paces ahead of them, Knollys and Cavendish the same distance behind.
The man in black was the first to speak.
“Isoult, it was not I who planned this mummery.”
She held up a warning hand.
“Ssst, lording, am I not Bertrand, your page, and we ride to take ship for France?”
“No, by God, you are she who——”