“Courage, courage,” she said; “there is no boat, and, even if they swim, Sir Pelleas is a great knight.”
“What can he do against fifty?” whined the girl, with her face still covered.
“Fifty? There are but a score. I have numbered them myself.”
“I would give all the jewels in the world to be in Winchester.”
“Ah! girl, I have no jewels to give; but this, I promise you, is better than a convent.”
The barbarians had gathered in a group beneath a great willow. Plainly they were in debate as to what should be done. Some, by their gestures, their tossing weapons, and their bombast, were for swimming the mere. Their councils were palpably divided. Possibly the sager folk among them did not think the venture worth the loss to them it might entail, seeing that one of those cooped upon the island had already given proof of no mean prowess. They could see the three armed men waiting grimly by the water’s edge, ready to strike down the swimmer who should crawl half-naked from the water weeds and mire. Gradually, but surely, the elder tongues held the argument, and the balance went down solemnly for those upon the island.
Pelleas and the two men, watching keenly for any movement, saw the circle of figures break and melt towards the horses. They saw them pick up the bodies of their two dead fellows, and lay them across the saddle. In a minute the whole troop turned, and held away southwards at a trot, flinging back a last wild cry over the water. The meadows rolled away behind them; the gradual trees hid them from moment to moment. Pelleas and the two servants stood and watched till the black line had gone southwards into the thickening woods.
Under the yew tree Morgan la Blanche had uncased her white face, and was smiling feebly.
“I am glad I did not pray,” she said; “it would have been so weak. Look! I have torn my tunic, and my belt’s awry. Bind my hair for me, sister, quickly,—before Sir Pelleas comes.”