Gorlois of Cornwall was beholden to his own strenuous, north-winded nature for any trouble he might incur in his madness against Igraine. However much he braved it out to his own conscience, he knew well enough whether he was content or no. He was a strong man, and selfish, resentful, and very human. He was no Oriental monster, no mere Herod. What magnanimity he possessed towards his wife had been frozen into a wolfish scorn by the things that had passed in Garlotte’s valley in Wales. Moreover, he had a bad woman at his elbow. Like many a vexed and restless man, he had turned to ambition, and the darker features of his character were being developed thereby. A king had wronged him; it was easy for a great noble to lay plots against a king. War and the clamour of war became like the prophetic sound of a storm from afar in his ears.
Little comment had followed upon the disappearance of the lad Jehan on the day when Gorlois and his knights had ridden hunting. No one cared for the lad; no one missed him materially. Casual gossip arose thereon in the guard-room. The lad had risked the halter or the branding-iron, and sundry threats were launched after him at random. Mark of the guard shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
“There’s pluck in the lad,” he said, “for all your bullying. By my faith, I guess he grew tired of kicks and leavings, and of being cursed by so many sons of the pot. Bastard or no bastard, the lad’s no fool.”
The guard-room scoffed complacently at the notion. Jehan do anything in the world but snivel! Not he! These gentlemen judged of a man’s worth by the animal propensities of the creature. They weighed a man as they would weigh an ox—for flesh, and the breed in him. Mark, making a show of warming to his wine, enlightened his men further as to Jehan’s disappearance.
“The lad and I went to bathe,” he said; "there was a ship in the offing, and sailors had come ashore to get water by St. Isidore’s spring. They wanted a lad for cabin service, so I took two gold pieces, and told them to kidnap Jehan."
A laugh hailed the confession, a laugh that changed to a cheer when Mark won accomplices by casting largesse for a scramble on the guard-room floor.
“I wish them luck of him,” said the captain, pocketing silver; “devil of a spark could I ever knock out of the lad.”
“May be you hit too hard.”
“May be not. I’ll lay my fist against a rope’s-end for education.”
“Mark takes his wine like a gentleman,” quoth one.