in his voice.
A queer lump rose in Raoul’s throat. This was a man to die for, even as he had dreamed in those far-off days at Harcourt. He caught up the Duke’s sword-belt and buckled it round his waist.
‘Haste, haste, brother, and follow the fool,’ Galet said, opening the door. ‘The horses stand ready.’
William swung his mantle over his shoulders. ‘I am well served,’ he said gaily. ‘Lead on, fool.’
‘Yea, you are well served, my son, who have a fool and a child to guard you.’ Galet stole to the stairs and went down them with William and Raoul close behind him. As they rounded the last bend the torch showed the sleepers lying like dead men on the floor of the hall. Raoul heard William give a laugh under his breath.
The moon had risen, and a pale light crept in at the windows; Raoul thrust the torch into the dying fire, and left it there. Over the sleepers they picked their way to the door into the kitchens. William trod boldly, and once his foot spurned an inert form as he passed. The drugged man moaned in his sleep, and again Raoul heard the Duke laugh.
There was no one in the kitchen. Across one of the windows the wicker-lattice had been torn away. Galet pointed silently towards it.
William nodded, and stepped forward, but Raoul was before him. ‘Beau sire, I will go first,’ he said, and climbed on to the bench beneath the window, and swung his leg over the sill.
The moon sailed in a sky the colour of sapphires; here at the back of the house no man stirred. Raoul jumped down lightly, and turned to help the Duke.
William was beside him in a moment, and lastly Galet. The jester put his finger to his lips, and led them to the wall that enclosed the house and its courtyard, and scrambled up, fitting, his feet into the crevices in the rough side.
Over the wall they found themselves in the shade of great trees, outposts of the forest that crept up to the very walls of Valognes. A little way into the wood they came upon the tethered horses, William’s own destrier, Malet, and the big horse Verceray. William vaulted into the saddle, and leaned over to stretch down his hand to the jester. ‘Thanks be to you, Galet the Fool,’ he said. ‘Lie close, good dog, and look for me at Falaise.’
Galet mumbled his lips over the Duke’s hand. ‘God keep you safe, brother. Away with you; you stay too long!’ He disappeared into the shadows, and the horses moved forward, side by side.
The moon showed the rough road that led to the south. Malet bounded forward, snatching at the bit, and the sound of his flying hooves seemed to thunder in Raoul’s ears. After him sped Verceray, and for a while they rode thus, one behind the other, galloping southwards.
Presently, drawing abreast of the Duke, Raoul stole a glance at him, trying to see his face. The light was too dim for him to distinguish more than the jut of the nose, and the tilt of the proud chin, but he thought he caught a gleam of the eyes under the black brows. The Duke sat straight in the saddle, as though he rode for his pleasure. Raoul, himself still tingling with excitement, wondered at his calm. As though he divined what thoughts were passing through his knight’s mind, William turned his head, and said with the flicker of a smile: ‘This has happened to me before, many times, Raoul de Harcourt.’
Raoul blurted out: ‘Are you never afraid, beau sire?’
‘Afraid? No,’ said William indifferently.
They rode on shoulder to shoulder through the night. After a while William steadied the headlong pace, and again spoke. ‘Who opened the gate to let in my murderers?’
‘Lord, Grimbauld, with six others, lesser men.’
The corners of the Duke’s mouth twitched with a sudden gust of anger. ‘Ah, foul traitor! By the splendour of God, there shall be a reckoning between him and me!’ The cold ferocity of his voice made Raoul shiver involuntarily. The Duke looked at him again, as though he measured his man. ‘This will be a hard ride. I
A queer lump rose in Raoul’s throat. This was a man to die for, even as he had dreamed in those far-off days at Harcourt. He caught up the Duke’s sword-belt and buckled it round his waist.
‘Haste, haste, brother, and follow the fool,’ Galet said, opening the door. ‘The horses stand ready.’
William swung his mantle over his shoulders. ‘I am well served,’ he said gaily. ‘Lead on, fool.’
‘Yea, you are well served, my son, who have a fool and a child to guard you.’ Galet stole to the stairs and went down them with William and Raoul close behind him. As they rounded the last bend the torch showed the sleepers lying like dead men on the floor of the hall. Raoul heard William give a laugh under his breath.
The moon had risen, and a pale light crept in at the windows; Raoul thrust the torch into the dying fire, and left it there. Over the sleepers they picked their way to the door into the kitchens. William trod boldly, and once his foot spurned an inert form as he passed. The drugged man moaned in his sleep, and again Raoul heard the Duke laugh.
There was no one in the kitchen. Across one of the windows the wicker-lattice had been torn away. Galet pointed silently towards it.
William nodded, and stepped forward, but Raoul was before him. ‘Beau sire, I will go first,’ he said, and climbed on to the bench beneath the window, and swung his leg over the sill.
The moon sailed in a sky the colour of sapphires; here at the back of the house no man stirred. Raoul jumped down lightly, and turned to help the Duke.
William was beside him in a moment, and lastly Galet. The jester put his finger to his lips, and led them to the wall that enclosed the house and its courtyard, and scrambled up, fitting, his feet into the crevices in the rough side.
Over the wall they found themselves in the shade of great trees, outposts of the forest that crept up to the very walls of Valognes. A little way into the wood they came upon the tethered horses, William’s own destrier, Malet, and the big horse Verceray. William vaulted into the saddle, and leaned over to stretch down his hand to the jester. ‘Thanks be to you, Galet the Fool,’ he said. ‘Lie close, good dog, and look for me at Falaise.’
Galet mumbled his lips over the Duke’s hand. ‘God keep you safe, brother. Away with you; you stay too long!’ He disappeared into the shadows, and the horses moved forward, side by side.
The moon showed the rough road that led to the south. Malet bounded forward, snatching at the bit, and the sound of his flying hooves seemed to thunder in Raoul’s ears. After him sped Verceray, and for a while they rode thus, one behind the other, galloping southwards.
Presently, drawing abreast of the Duke, Raoul stole a glance at him, trying to see his face. The light was too dim for him to distinguish more than the jut of the nose, and the tilt of the proud chin, but he thought he caught a gleam of the eyes under the black brows. The Duke sat straight in the saddle, as though he rode for his pleasure. Raoul, himself still tingling with excitement, wondered at his calm. As though he divined what thoughts were passing through his knight’s mind, William turned his head, and said with the flicker of a smile: ‘This has happened to me before, many times, Raoul de Harcourt.’
Raoul blurted out: ‘Are you never afraid, beau sire?’
‘Afraid? No,’ said William indifferently.
They rode on shoulder to shoulder through the night. After a while William steadied the headlong pace, and again spoke. ‘Who opened the gate to let in my murderers?’
‘Lord, Grimbauld, with six others, lesser men.’
The corners of the Duke’s mouth twitched with a sudden gust of anger. ‘Ah, foul traitor! By the splendour of God, there shall be a reckoning between him and me!’ The cold ferocity of his voice made Raoul shiver involuntarily. The Duke looked at him again, as though he measured his man. ‘This will be a hard ride. I
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