“It is my sword and shield,” he said; “they were given me blessed and consecrated by my mother. It is in my thought that I had smirched them by this deed. What think you, girl?”
“I cannot think so,” she said stoutly.
Then since his face was so wistful and troubled, she racked her fancy for some plan she thought might soothe him. A sudden purpose came to her like prophecy.
“Listen,” she said. “I can do this for you. Give me your shield and sword, and let me lay them on the high altar under the cross with candles burning, and let me pray for them there. Will that comfort you, Pelleas?”
“Yes,” he said, with a sudden sad smile; “pray for me, go and pray for me, Igraine.”
It was the impulse of a moment. She bent down with a great thrill of wonder, and kissed the man’s lips. It was soon done, soon sped. She saw Pelleas’s blood stream to his face, saw something in his eyes that made her heart canter. Then she darted away, took up the great sword and the shield with its red face, and went to the chapel singing like a seraph. Her prayers were a strange jumble of worship and recollection. “Lord Jesu, cleanse his spirit,” said her heart one moment; “truth, how he coloured and looked at me,” it sang with more human refrain the next. “May he be a knight above knights,” quoth devotion; “and may I be ever fair in his eyes,” chimed love. Altogether, it was a most quaint prayer.
Now, a certain mundane matter had been troubling Igraine’s thought that day. The barge, seized and put to use by Morgan and her men, lay amid the reeds on the nether shore, ready to give passage to any chance wayfarer, welcome or otherwise, who should choose to cross the mere. The boat, so fixed, floated as a constant peril to Pelleas and herself. She felt that peace would flout them so long as the barge lay ready to play ferry-boat to any casual intruder. Pelleas’s wound might keep them cooped many days in the place. She vowed to herself that the boat should be regained, and blushed when the oath accused her.
At dusk, when the birds were piping, and there was a green hush over the world, she went back to Pelleas, a beautiful shameface, accompliced by the twilight.
“I have prayed,” she said simply.
Pelleas touched her fingers.