Mark smiled in his eyes.
“Your dreams fly too fast,” he said.
“And yet—”
“You would see some one play the hero. Who knows but that a bastard may save a kingdom.”
Mark moved on down the path, stopping now and again to watch the ship at sea; Jehan followed at his heels. They reached the beach, and saw the waves rolling in on them from the west, with the white belly of a sail showing over the water. Mark made no further tarrying in the matter. Standing on a stretch of sand levelled smooth by the water, he traced a cross thereon with the point of his spear.
“Swear by the cross.”
Jehan’s face was turned to the man’s, eager and enquiring.
“To whom shall I swear troth?” he said.
“To Gorlois’s wife.”
“Ah!”