He stared at her mistrustfully, head up, lips set.
“Dame Isoult, I thought you were at Lewes.”
“Ah, my friend, I met comrades by the way. Have no fear, Dame Margaret is safe in Lewes town. We let the baggage pass, but tied up your men. And now, since we are too many for you, it is your turn to surrender.”
His pride stiffened itself.
“Let them take me—if they dare.”
There was the length of the hall between these two and the rest, but Isoult went closer to him, dropping her voice to a whisper:
“Fulk, listen to me. These wretches have tasted blood; your men are dead; we could not help it. You might kill the first three, but the rest would drag you down like dogs, and I’ll not suffer it. You cannot fight, because I, Isoult, stand in the way.”
His eyes searched hers.
“You! You are with these vermin?”
“I am, and I am not. But I shall stand between you so that you cannot use your sword nor these Jacks their clubs and bills. The grey friar is merciful. You surrender as my prisoner.”