With a quick, impatient movement the Lady Margaret flung back her veil. Geoffrey caught his breath at the sight of her proud beauty. Her companion also unveiled. She was a little lady with brown curls and big blue eyes. Just now those eyes were exceedingly haughty, but at the back of them Geoffrey thought he discerned a twinkle.
“My captain, madame,” said Simon. “Sir Geoffrey of Malvallet. The Countess Margaret, Geoffrey.”
Geoffrey started, and threw Simon an amazed glance. But in a moment he had hidden his surprise and pulled forward a chair.
“Pray, madame, will you not be seated?” he bowed, all his courtier instincts to the fore.
The Countess hesitated a moment, looking at Simon. Then she sat down, allowing her cloak to fall away from her gleaming shoulders. Her foot tapped the ground imperiously.
“Well, sir? What now?”
The little lady went to her and stood behind her chair. She smiled upon Geoffrey graciously, as if to thank him for his consideration.
Simon clanked to the table behind which Bernard stood, spellbound.
“Go prepare me two rooms above,” he said. “Let Walter of Santoy set a guard of mine own men upon them, so that not a mouse may creep out unseen. Hasten.”
Bernard stammered something unintelligible and hurried out. Simon turned to his prisoner.
“Madame, rest assured that I shall look well to your housing, that ye may suffer no discomfort during your sojourn here. Alan is safe, Geoffrey.”
Geoffrey nodded. He clapped his hands vigorously, and when a lackey appeared, ordered wine to be brought. This he offered to the Countess, on one knee.
“I need naught,” she said coldly.
Her companion rustled forward, taking the horn from Geoffrey’s hand.
“Nay, madame, but taste a little!” she coaxed, and whispered something in the Countess’s ear.
The Lady Margaret smiled faintly and took the horn. Geoffrey made haste to fill another for her lady, and was rewarded by a smile, and a curtsey.
“I thank you, m’sieur.”
“My Lord of Beauvallet,” said the Countess coldly, “for how long do ye seek to detain me?”
“Ye shall be within your castle by noon tomorrow, madame,” Simon answered shortly.
The smouldering eyes challenged him.
“As mistress or prisoner, sir?”
“The decision rests with you, madame. Mistress shall ye be if ye will swear allegiance to King Henry.”
“I bend not so easily, milor’,” she sneered.
Simon’s lips tightened.
“Maybe ye will break then, madame.”
She laughed at him, but her little teeth were clenched.
“Ye know not Margaret of Belrémy, sir!”
“I think it is you who know not Simon of Beauvallet,” Simon said, with the glimmering of a smile.
Bernard came back into the room.
“It is done, my lord. Santoy was here.”
The Countess rose, drawing her cloak about her. She addressed Simon softly.
“Let there be an understanding between us, sir.”
“I desire naught better, lady.”
“Then mark well what I say. I give no parole, I swear no allegiance. It is war between us to the death, for I am not vanquished yet, nor will be! Ye would do well to beware my vengeance, Lord of Beauvallet!”
“I thank ye for that warning,” Simon retorted. He held back a curtain at the end of the hall. “Go before me, madame.”
When he returned to the hall it was some time later, and he had shed his armour for a long green tunic which fell below his knees and was slit at the sides to give him greater freedom in walking. Heavy spurred boots were upon his feet, but his head was bare, the light hair still clubbed at neck and brow, brushed and smooth. He was frowning, but when he met Geoffrey’s quizzical glance, the shadows went out of his eyes, and they twinkled responsively.
“Oh, Simon, Simon, thou dog!” Geoffrey teased him. “What have ye done?”
The corners of Simon’s mouth turned down ruefully.
“I have brought a wildcat into our midst,” he answered. “Belrémy is not wholly mine yet, though I hold the town and the castle.”
Geoffrey seized him by the shoulders, pushing him backwards to a chair.
“Sit, thou squire of dames, and tell me what passed within the castle.”
“Little enough. I entered alone, and was led to my lady’s audience-chamber, where she sat amidst her court, with her cousin beside her.”
“Cousin?”
“Ay. Him I expected, for his father, the Sire de Galledemaine, spoke of him. A puny creature with a rose. Faugh! So soon as I had set eyes on him I knew what manner of man I had to treat with. They had thought to frighten me with threats, deeming me a fool to walk thus coolly into their trap.”
“Said I not that it was a trap!”
“Nay, but I knew the workings of it. They would have taken me prisoner, mayhap slain me. I know not.”
“What!” Geoffrey started up. “But it was truce!”
“So I thought. Yet I suspected treachery, so was I not taken unawares. There was some parley at first. My lady was proud enough, and high in her talk. Then they flung veiled threats at me, and I made an end.”
“Simon, thou art like an oyster! How made ye this end?”
“I drew my sword upon the Lady Margaret, and thus held her men at bay.”
“Ye—ye—Oh, preux chevalier!” Geoffrey broke into a long laugh. “They would not think that, the Frenchmen!”
“Nay. Not that dainty court. After that it was simple. They led me to Alan who lay in a fair chamber in the tower. He is wounded, but I think not badly. Then came I here, with my lady as hostage. The Chevalier hath sworn an oath of submission, but I trust him not. Now I will invest the castle. It shall be my quarters, and thine. The town is quiet?”
“Ay. The people are amazed at thy clemency. All France thinks King Hal an ogre.”
Simon rose.
“I must see Huntingdon. Where is he?”
“By the southern gate. His men bring the baggage into the town. Where wilt thou quarter thy men, Simon?”
“Some here. I make provision for the others this day. Geoffrey, summon a score of thine own men-at-arms, and a score of the men of Beauvallet. I will have thee ride into the castle and make
