Quoth the Lady: “That is easy to promise; for what may I do by myself?”
Then Agatha fell pondering a while, and said thereafter: “First, thou shalt get me speech with my Lord, and cause him to swear immunity to me, whatsoever I shall say or do herein.” Said the Lady: “Easy is this. What more hast thou?”
Said Agatha: “It were better for thee not to go forth to see the jousting; because thou art not to be trusted that thou show not thy love openly when the youngling is in peril; and if thou put thy lord to shame openly before the people, he must needs thwart thy will, and be fierce and cruel, and then it will go hard with thy darling. So thou shalt not go from the pavilion till the night is dark, and thou mayst feign thyself sick meantime.”
“Sick enough shall I be if I may not go forth to see how my love is faring in his peril: this at least is hard to me; but so be it! At least thou wilt come and tell me how he speedeth.” “Oh yes,” said Agatha, “if thou must have it so; but fear thou not, he shall do well enough.”
Said the Lady: “Ah, but thou wottest how oft it goes with a chance stroke, that the point pierceth where it should not; nay, where by likelihood it could not.”
“Nay,” said Agatha, “what chance is there in this, when the youngling knoweth the whole manner of the play, and his foemen know naught thereof? It is as the chance betwixt Geoffrey the Minstrel and Black Anselm, when they play at chess together, that Anselm must needs be mated ere he hath time to think of his fourth move. I wot of these matters, my Lady. Now, further, I would have thy leave to marshal thy maids about the seat where thou shouldest be, and moreover there should be someone in thy seat, even if I sat in it myself.” Said the Lady: “Yea, sit there if thou wilt.”
“Woe’s me!” said Agatha laughing, “why should I sit there? I am like to thee, am I not?” “Yea,” said the Lady, “as the swan is like to the loon.” “Yea, my Lady,” said Agatha, “which is the swan and which the loon? Well, well, fear not; I shall set Joyce in thy seat by my Lord’s leave; she is tall and fair, and forsooth somewhat like to thee.” “Why wilt thou do this?” quoth the Lady; “Why should thralls sit in my seat?” Said Agatha: “O, the tale is long to tell; but I would confuse that young man’s memory of thee somewhat, if his eyes fell on thee at all when ye met e’en now, which is to be doubted.”
The Lady started up in sudden wrath, and cried out: “She had best not be too like to me then, and strive to draw his eyes to her, or I will have her marked for diversity betwixt us. Take heed, take heed!”
Agatha looked softly on her and said: “My Lady. Ye fair-skinned, open-faced women should look to it not to show yourselves angry before men-folk. For open wrath marreth your beauty sorely. Leave scowls and fury to the dark-browed, who can use them without wrying their faces like a three months’ baby with the colic. Now that is my last rede as now. For methinks I can hear the trumpets blowing for the arraying of the tourney. Wherefore I must go to see to matters, while thou hast but to be quiet. And tonight make much of my Lord, and bid him see me tomorrow, and give heed to what I shall say to him. But if I meet him without, now, as is most like, I shall bid him in to thee, that thou mayst tell him of Joyce, and her sitting in thy seat. Otherwise I will tell him as soon as he is set down in his place. Sooth to say, he is little like to quarrel with either thee or me for setting a fair woman other than thee by his side.”
Therewith she lifted the tent lap and went out, stepping daintily, and her slender body swaying like a willow branch, and came at once face to face with the Lord of Utterbol, and bowed low and humbly before him, though her face, unseen of him, smiled mockingly. The Lord looked on her greedily, and let his hand and arm go over her shoulder, and about her side, and he drew her to him, and kissed her, and said: “What, Agatha! and why art thou not bringing forth thy mistress to us?” She raised her face to him, and murmured softly, as one afraid, but with a wheedling smile on her face and in her eyes: “Nay, my Lord, she will abide within today, for she is ill at ease; if your grace goeth in, she will tell thee what she will have.”
“Agatha,” quoth he, “I will hear her, and I will do her pleasure if thou ask me so to do.” Then Agatha cast down her eyes, and her speech was so low and sweet that it was as the cooing of a dove, as she said: “O my Lord, what is this word of thine?”
He kissed her again, and said: “Well, well, but dost thou ask it?” “O yea, yea, my Lord,” said she.
“It is done then,” said the Lord; and he let her go; for he had been stroking her arm and shoulder, and
