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<h2 id="id01601" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER XXVII</h2> <h5 id="id01602">GALORS RIDES HUNTING</h5> On the morning after the storm at Goltres, July 18, Galors sat in the hall of his stronghold habited as he had ridden in but a few hours before. In came a red-haired peasant, asking to be made his man. "Why so, fellow?" asked Galors. "Lording," said Falve, "because my mother hath done me a wrong." "Why, thou dog?" cried Galors. "Would'st thou cut thy mother's throat under my flag?" "Lording," Falve answered, "I would not cut my mother's throat under the Pope's flag. But I know thee to be a great lord, master of all these walks of Morgraunt. If I were made free of thy company I could ask thee a mercy; and if I asked thee a mercy it would be that thou should'st order my mother to give me back my wife." "How, thy wife, rogue?" said Galors, who was weary of the man. "Lording, she was to have been my wife this day. But she lay last night with my mother, and by the show of a certain token, which unknown to me she wore about her, prevailed upon my mother to let her go. So now she has escaped into the forest, and I am beggared of her without thy help." By this Galors was awake. He leaned forward in his chair, put chin to hand, and asked quietly—"How was she called, this wife of thine, my knave?" "Lording," replied the poor eager rogue, "she was a boy at first, called Roy; then she revealed herself a maiden." "I asked her maiden name, red fool." "Her name, my lording, was Isoult la Desirous." "Ah! At last!" He got up from his chair, saying shortly, "Take me this instant to thy mother." "But lord—" "Silence, lout, or I swing you sky-high. To your mother without a word." Poor Falve, in a cold sweat, obeyed. They found the old lady making breathless preparations for departure. "Mother," began Falve, "my Lord Galors—" "Peace, fool!" broke in Galors. "Dame," he said civilly, "I must thank you for the great charge you have been at with a certain lady much in both our hearts. No doubt she has spoken to you of Messire Prosper le Gai. Madam, I am he." "As God is great," Falve cried, "I could have sworn the lord of this town was Messire Galors de Born." "And so he was but yesterday," said Galors. "But now I hold it for the Countess Isabel." The old woman was convinced at this name. She caught Galors by the arm. "And will you take back the lamb to the dam?" she bleated. "That is all I ask," replied Galors, speaking the truth. "You may catch her, Messire—you may catch her. Ah, if I could only have known of you yester-e'en! She's had but seven hours' start of you. Take the path for Thornyhold Brush, and you'll find her. Jesu Christ! when I saw the bleeding bird again I could have died, had there not been better work before me." "The bleeding bird? Ah! the token, you would say." "Yes, Messire, yes! The pelican in piety—the torn breast! The I and F. Ah! blood enough shed, blood enough. Go quickly, Sir Prosper, and testify for your name; 'tis of good omen and better report. And have you killed that sick wolf Galors, Messire? There, there, God will bless you for that, and prosper you as you have prospered us!" Galors swallowed the pill and went out with no more ceremony. Falve ran after him. "Eh, eh, Messire!" he spluttered. Galors let him splutter till they were within the courtyard. Then he called to a trooper. "Take this man and flog him well," said he. Falve was seized. "Ah, my lording," cried he, "what do you there? Must I be flogged because I have lost my wife?" "No, dog. But because you have married mine." "Nay, nay, mercy, my lording! I have not yet married her." "Ha!" said Galors, "then you shall be flogged for jilting her." And flogged he was. And the flogging cost Galors his prize. Galors now bestirred himself. First he sat down and wrote a letter to the Countess, thus conceived. "To the high lady, the Lady Isabel de Forz, Countess of Hauterive, Countess Dowager of March and Bellesme, Lady of Morgraunt—Galors de Born, Lord of Hauterive, Goltres, and West Wan, sendeth greeting in the Lord everlasting. "That which your Serenity lost early is not too late found, and by us. The crystal locket, having the pelican in the Crown of Thorns, when we bring it upon the bosom where it hath ever slept waiting for the day which shall reveal it to you, will testify whether we lie or lie not. Know, however, that she shall assuredly come, and not unattended; but as, befits her condition, under the hand of him who, having found her, will provide that she be not lost again. It is not unknown to you, High Mightiness, how our power and estate have grown in these days to the threatening of your own. So it is, indeed, that now, in blood, in fees, in renown, in power of life and member, we are near enough to you to seek alliance still more close. And this is the last word of Galors; let the wearer of the crystal locket come home as the betrothed of the Lord Galors de Born, and heiress of High March and Morgraunt, Countess of Hauterive in time to be, and she shall come indeed. Otherwise she comes not; but Hauterive wears the crown which High March looks to put on. Thus we commend you to the holy keeping of God. From our tower of Hauterive, on the feast of Saint Arnulphus, bishop and martyr, the 15th calends of August, in the first year of our principality West of Wan." This letter, sealed with the three wicket-gates and the circumscript, Entra per me, he sent forward at once by a party of six riders, one of whom carried a flag of truce. Then with but three to follow him, he rode out of the town, taking the path for Thornyhold Brush. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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