“Sit down, gentlemen,” said she, “I am sorry the fire is out, but we shall be moving before long. You, there, with the beard, since my sister is in the sulks, I will take some of that baked meat and wine you have brought us. Now, good health to the King, and all soldiers.”
Marpasse ate and drank with relish, a second breakfast not coming at all amiss to her, and she talked and laughed with the men, and soon had them at her service. Denise would touch nothing, though Marpasse smiled, nodded and whispered in her ear. “Courage, girl,” she said, “leave it to me, a laugh and a flash of the eyes work marvels, even with pigs. We will spread our fingers at them before the day is old.” But Denise sat like one stunned, and would not believe that Marpasse meant what she said. The red tent had a fascination for Denise, and she saw Gaillard and two other knights come out, sit down on cloaks their servants spread for them, and make a meal. Then they were washed, barbered, and armed in full view of the two women, while a boy stood near, and sang to the sound of a lute. The whole camp was full of stir and movement. Already, black columns were pouring out of Guildford town. In an hour the whole host would be on the march.
So it befell that Denise found herself walking beside Marpasse that morning at the tail of Gaillard’s company of spears. The two men-at-arms who had been set to guard them, walked their horses one on either side. Marpasse trudged along, merry and insolent; Denise, with her thoughts humbled into the dust. Gaillard had ridden up and spoken to her, not mockingly, but with the arrogance of a man in power. “Sanctissima,” he had said, “before long I will find you a palfrey, and you shall ride at my side. Hold up your head, my dear, and be sensible; I have something on my conscience, and by my sword, I am not unready to right a wrong.” Denise had answered him nothing, for she was bitter with the humiliation of it, and that Gaillard of all men should look at her as on one whom he might graciously lift up out of the mire. Chance had joined her to these two women, and she guessed that Isoult’s red gown had coloured Gaillard’s vision.
When they had gone a mile or more Denise asked Marpasse in an undertone for her knife. But Marpasse shut her mouth firmly, and shook her head.
“Have patience, my dear,” she said in a whisper, “I have my trick to play. Be ready when I give the word.”
And Marpasse trudged on cheerfully, mocking at herself in her heart.
“Fool,” she said to herself, “what is the girl to you? Why burn your fingers pulling cinders out of the fire? You may get kicks for it, and no money. And you may lose your chance, too, of getting a lover. Fool! You have had a heart of pap ever since you were born.”
Yet though Marpasse talked to herself thus, her mind was set on cheating Gaillard of Denise.
The King’s host went winding through the green valleys that spring morning, marching Kentwards, where Earl Simon had taken the town of Rochester by assault, and pressed hard upon John de Warenne who held out in the castle. Horse and foot, archers and camp-followers, baggage-waggons, sumpter mules, and loose women, made up the stream of steel and colour. It was a rough, careless, confident march, for had not the first triumphs fallen to the King? Northampton had been taken, and Simon the Younger made prisoner, with Madame Etoile, his lady. Leicester and Nottingham had fallen, and Gifford’s seizure and destruction of Warwick was all that the Barons could claim on their side. The Mise had gilded Henry’s cause. Even the King of the Scots had sent aid to his Brother of England; a Balliol, a Bruce, and a Comyn were among his captains. John de Warenne should keep Earl Simon under Rochester’s walls, until the King should come and crush him, or drive him headlong over the sea.
Henry, weak, persuadable, false, yet brilliant gentleman, might count himself strong that spring, with his Poitevins and his adventurers, and the rougher lords who preferred the licence of a weak King to the justice of Earl Simon. But the old lion was not driven to bay yet, much less cowed or beaten. De Montfort and his men were not asleep, nor over confident like the King’s party. Rochester might be many miles away, but Earl Simon had sent some of his most trusted men to watch the march of the King’s army, to judge its strength, and keep him warned as to all that passed.