Simon entered the chamber, took one look, and came back into the anteroom.
“So. Madame is ill,” he said grimly.
Bewildered faces stared up at him, but Hélène stood proud and stiff, eyes cast down, and Amélie seemed to shrink into her chair. Unerringly Simon swooped upon these two.
“You, mademoiselle, and you, will follow me,” he said, and to Amélie his words rang out as a death-knell. She crept out in his wake, Hélène at her side, and the horrified, bewildered Geoffrey bringing up the rear.
Simon led the way to the room where he conducted all his business, and sat himself down at the table, judge-like, motioning the two women to stand before him.
“Mademoiselle Amélie, ye will answer me truthfully,” he said. “When, and how did the Lady Margaret escape from her room?”
Amélie sobbed and shrank against Hélène.
“I—I do not kn-know! I m-must not s-say!”
Simon’s voice grew harder.
“Mademoiselle, you will be wise to answer me now, of your own free will,” he warned her. “The Lady Margaret has escaped with Mademoiselle Jeanne. That I know, and that she escaped during mine absence. To leave this castle were impossible, unless she had a pass. Did she have one, or is she still within these walls?”
“I cannot, I cannot! Do not ask me! I—Oh, Hélène, help me!”
Hélène stepped forward.
“Amélie knows naught, milor’. You frighten her to no purpose. And if she knew—The Lady Margaret’s ladies do not easily betray their mistress.”
“They have done so easily enough, if she has left Belrémy,” Simon said. “Fool, do ye not know what perils lie in the path of two women, journeying over this country?”
Some strange note in his voice made Geoffrey look sharply at him. Simon heeded him not.
“I know what perils await her at your hands did I betray her,” Hélène answered bravely.
“Think you I avenge myself on women?” Simon sneered. “Ye know not Beauvallet. Speak now, for, by the Rood, I swear I will wring thy knowledge from thee by torture if need be.”
“And yet ye avenge not yourself on women.”
“No vengeance, mademoiselle. A means, which I should be loth to take.”
“Then know, sir, that my mistress is beyond the reach of your power.”
“She is dead then,” Simon replied. He turned again to Amélie. “Mademoiselle, there is as yet no need for thy tears, but if ye answer me not ye will weep tears of blood.”
Amélie shrieked, and began to implore his mercy.
Simon held up his hands.
“Listen, both of you! By Christ’s Wounds I do swear that no injury nor harshness shall befall the Lady Margaret at my hands. Now speak.”
“I dare not! Oh, I dare not!”
Simon rose.
“Then follow me yet again, mademoiselle.”
“Ah, no! Ah, no! I will speak! I promise I will speak the truth!” Amélie wailed, and would have fallen on her knees had not Geoffrey put her gently into a chair.
Simon sat down again.
“It is well for you, mademoiselle. When did the Lady Margaret escape?”
“The—the day—you went to Sal-de-lac. Before—very early in the morning.”
Simon’s eyes narrowed.
“I was still in the castle?”
“Yes—oh, yes! I—oh, God forgive me!”
“How passed she the guards without the castle?”
“It was Léon—his pass—she—oh, Hélène, Hélène!”
“Léon the page? Ay. I remember. How did she contrive to use his pass?”
“She—she went as a page. He gave—his clothes. And—and she wrote—‘and s-sister’ on the p-pass, so Jeanne—went with her.”
A low whistle of admiration came from Geoffrey.
“Oh, the Amazon!” he chuckled.
“Where went she?”
“To—to Turincel—to—to bring—my Lord Fernand—to—fight you.”
Simon smiled.
“Then that quest was vain. Turincel has submitted. Where next did she think to go?”
“I do not know. Indeed, indeed, I do not know!”
Simon was silent for a moment, frowning. Then he stood up.
“Ye may go. And Mademoiselle Hélène.”
Hélène paused.
“Milor’—what will you do?”
“Do! I will fetch her back, silly girl. How could ye let her go thus? God and the Devil know what may have befallen her!” He waited until she had withdrawn, and then he turned to Geoffrey. “Send me Santoy, Geoffrey, and five men of Beauvallet. See them armed and mounted, with two horses to spare.”
“Simon—think ye danger—”
Simon laughed shortly.
“I fear the worst. As I rode through this country I found it seething with rogues and footpads.”
Geoffrey paled.
“God! And Jeanne—Simon, I come with thee on this quest. It is my right.”
“As ye will. Wear thine armour. Send Alan to my room, he must rule here. The Chevalier is safe?”
“Ay. I think he knows naught.” Geoffrey swung out.
Within the hour they were riding out of Belrémy, black plumes and green side by side, bearing for Turincel. They reached it in the evening, but Simon went at once to the Castle, only to be told that Fernand de Turincel was abroad. The Captain of the Guard received Simon, and eyed him curiously, for the fame of his name and spread over France.
“Tell me,” Simon said curtly, “came there a pageboy to this castle within these last five days, with his sister, demanding to see Lord Fernand?”
“It may have been so, sir, but I know not. My men—”
“Will ye summon them, sir? The page was none other than my prisoner, the Countess of Belrémy.”
The captain stared.
“The—the—God’s life! If ye will follow me, milor’—?”
Simon clanked after him to the guardroom, and in a very short space the guards were drawn up before him.
“Came there a page and his sister to this castle lately?” the captain asked. “A page who desired to see my lord?”
The man who had rebuffed Margaret stepped forward.
“Ay, sir. A poor, betwitched lad, who said he was the Lady Margaret of Belrémy. There was a wench with him, and a roystering giant who would have offered violence when we denied them entrance.”
“A man?” Simon addressed him. “Are you sure?”
“Ay, sir. A great burly fellow with a red beard.”
Simon frowned.
“Know ye such an one, Geoffrey?”
Geoffrey shook his head.
“Not I. Tell me, good fellow, of what like was this page?”
“A pretty lad, sir, with black eyes and a hot temper.”
“It is she, beyond doubt,” Geoffrey said. “Saw ye which way they went?”
“Nay, sir. I—I did not think to look.
