“Faint heart. I dare you to race me.”
She reached the shallows on the farther side, and putting up her hands, unfastened the net that held her hair, and as she rose she let her hair fall in black masses, covering her like a veil. The water lay in a grey circle about her waist. She raised her arms and held them out to him, half mockingly.
“Come. Am I to dare you again? If you can catch me—I am yours.”
Fulk had bent down and was unfastening his shoes when he heard a rustling in the brushwood on the other side of the mere. Isoult’s back was turned towards the farther bank, where the thicket that had hidden Merlin came close to the water’s edge. It was not ten paces from where Isoult stood, and as Fulk raised his head he saw two men spring out from among the hazels and dash into the shallows towards Isoult.
He stood up, shouting.
“Swim! swim!”
Fulk saw her throw herself forward and dive like a waterfowl under the water. But her long hair that she had loosened proved her undoing. It floated long enough for one of the fellows to snatch at it and to draw her back.
Then Fulk saw her, struggling, naked, trying to break away from the men who held her.
“Fulk—Fulk!”
For the first time he heard fear in her voice, and his love was like wine poured upon fire.