“It is all quiet yonder.”
Grimbald’s head was like the head of a hawk, alert and very watchful.
“They have done enough for one night,” he said.
“To make us keep troth with the King!”
Both were silent for a moment. Grimbald spoke the thought that was uppermost in Aymery’s mind.
“It is no longer safe for the girl alone, yonder,” he said.
Aymery, that man with the iron mouth and the square chin, and eyes the colour of the winter sea, spread his shoulders as an archer spreads them before drawing a six-foot bow.
“I will see to it,” he said quietly. “Nothing must happen to Denise.”
CHAPTER II
The little red spider of a man who pattered along beside Gaillard’s horse, looked up from time to time into the Gascon’s face, and thought what a great pageant life must be to a soldier who had such a body and so much pay. For the little red spider was a cripple, and nothing more glorious than a spy, a thing that crawled like a harvest bug, and might have been squashed without ceremony under the Gascon’s fist. As for Gaillard he was a very great man, cock and captain of Count Peter’s chickens, those most meek birds who scratched up obstinate worms, and kept their lord’s land clean of grubs.