“My land is under English rule!” Margaret flashed.
“Is it so indeed? Then I will keep thee for as long as thou shalt please me. I weary soon, but thou hast spirit and it should be amusing to tame thee. Thou shalt lie willingly in my arms, Margaret of Belrémy, before many days have passed.”
A shudder went through her, and quick as thought she drove her clenched fist into his grinning face. Her guard seized her, pinning her arms to her sides. Panting she glared at Raoul, whose smile had grown more evil.
“Thou wilt not do that again, wench,” he said, and struck her lightly on the cheek. “A blow for thy blow, but next time it shall be a kiss.”
She sneered, eyes aflame.
“Thou puny spider!” she said bitingly. “Thou poor, misshapen wretch!” She saw his lips curl back, showing his red gums, and knew that she had touched him on the raw. “Poor dwarf!” She laughed exultantly, and braced herself, for he had come up to her again.
“Let be,” he told her guard, and took her in his long arms, crushing her against his fat body. “Dwarf, but strong, Margaret of Belrémy. Spider who has caught a silly fly in his web.” Then he kissed her, and she struggled madly to free herself, straining away from him. “Lie still, little fly,” he said softly, and kissed her again.
XII
How Simon Set Forth in Pursuit
He left Belrémy at noon on the day of the Lady Margaret’s flight, having set a vigilant guard about her cage. He had no suspicion that the bird had flown, so he went to Sal-de-lac in ignorance of how he had been tricked. Geoffrey was left in command of the castle, and there was much to be done, for which reason he did not, on that first day, miss Mademoiselle Jeanne. But when, on the second day, she neither emerged from Margaret’s chamber, nor received Geoffrey in the anteroom when he entered on his round of inspection, he felt aggrieved and ill-used. The Countess’s other ladies were there, chattering and sewing; one of them, Mademoiselle Hélène, who was a grave-eyed lady and in Margaret’s confidence, came forward to curtsey to him.
“The Lady Margaret, mademoiselle?” Geoffrey asked politely.
“Monsieur desires to speak with her?” Hélène said composedly. “Madame is suffering from a headache, but doubtless—”
“No, no!” Geoffrey made haste to say. “I will not disturb my lady.” He lingered a moment. “Mademoiselle Jeanne is—is with her?”
Knowing glances were exchanged, and one girl tittered. Geoffrey turned a dull red.
“Yes, monsieur,” Hélène answered.
Geoffrey withdrew, too shy to ask to see Jeanne. Not until the following day were his suspicions stirred, and then but slightly. It appeared that the Countess was still indisposed, and could not spare Jeanne from her side. Geoffrey retired, a little puzzled, and closely questioned the guards. Their answers were satisfactory, and he knew them to be honest, for they were Simon’s own men. Still his suspicions were not quite lulled to rest, and he determined, much as he dreaded the task, to see the Lady Margaret when he went again to her apartments that evening, whether she were abed or not. Simon, he knew, would feel no qualms at entering her bedchamber thus unceremoniously, but he was not fashioned of such stern and uncompromising stuff, and his chivalrous soul shrank from such unchivalrous behaviour.
He had just risen from dinner, some time before three in the afternoon, when Simon strode in, most unexpectedly.
“Why, lad!” Geoffrey cried. “I did not think to see thee before tomorrow!”
Simon tossed his cap on to the table.
“Nay. The business was speedily done. Something impelled me to return. I know not whether I am a fool or whether my instinct truly warned me of danger. Is aught amiss?”
“Naught. I—think there is naught amiss.”
Swiftly the lowering brows met over Simon’s hawk-nose. He shot Geoffrey his sudden, sword-like glance.
“Well?” The word was snapped, and Geoffrey laughed rather uneasily.
“I—Simon, I have felt restless in my mind all this day, but I think I am mistaken in my suspicions.”
“The Lady Margaret?”
“I have not seen her,” Geoffrey said reluctantly. “Yet she has not passed by thy guards. That I know. Her ladies say she hath the headache and keeps her chamber. That is all. Little enough, you’ll say. Jeanne too I have not seen.”
Simon threw off his cloak.
“Come with me now,” he said briefly, and strode to the stairway.
Up they went to the Countess’s apartments. Rigid guards presented arms, but Simon stayed not to question them. He knocked upon the door of the antechamber.
Hélène opened it, and cool-headed as she was, she changed colour when she saw Simon, and her eyelids flickered. It was a very thin sign of fear, but it did not escape Simon.
“The Lady Margaret is abed?” he asked.
“Yes, milor’,” Hélène answered.
“What ails her?”
“A grievous pain in her head, milor’. She desires to be quiet.”
“I shall not disturb her long,” Simon said. “She should see a physician.” He went into the room, and shot a quick glance around. Most of the ladies were unperturbed, for they knew nothing, but Amélie was white to the lips. It was enough for Simon. Without a word he stalked to the door which led into Margaret’s bedchamber.
There was a quick movement from behind him, and a rustle of skirts. Hélène slipped before the door, calm still, but pale.
“Milor’, this is an intrusion,” she said. “Madame cannot be disturbed thus.”
“Mademoiselle,” Simon answered harshly. “Your face betrays you. Stand aside.”
But she would not, backing against the door, arms out-flung to guard it.
“My orders are to let none in, milor’.”
Simon laid a heavy hand on her shoulder.
“Your loyalty is worthy of praise, mademoiselle, but ye cannot fool me. I will lift you out of my way, if you do not this instant stand aside.”
Hélène read the purpose in his eyes.
“Take your hand from my shoulder,”
