She bent suddenly and kissed him on the mouth, and, rising, stretched out her arms to the sunset.
“Oh, life—oh, joy! Come, heart of mine, let us be children.”
Fulk fastened his belt over his green cote-hardie, and sprang up, his eyes alight.
“What a mate for a man!”
“A mate who can find him supper! Come, gather up your harness or the dew will rust it, and I, your page, shall have the cleaning of it!”
She picked up his helmet, leaving him the rest of the war-gear. The hall, with its dark beams and high timber roof, was filling with shadows. Slants of sunlight came stealthily in at the windows. The rushes on the floor still looked fresh and green.
Fulk laid his sword and armour on the daïs table, while Isoult climbed the stairs ascending to the solar. She passed through the narrow doorway and disappeared.
In a minute or so she was back again with a leather wallet in one hand a lute in the other.
“These good people had sense. There is a bed up yonder, and I found the lute in a press. The wallet is my own.”
“Knollys left me wine and sweetmeats!”