“No matter.” Simon turned on his heel. “Sir Captain, I thank you for your courtesy. I have heard enough.”
“Milor’ Beauvallet, I but regret I can tell you no more. Stay! At what hour came the page?”
The man looked at his fellows.
“It—it was late, I think, sir. Close on four. But I cannot swear to it.”
“Then they slept in Turincel that night,” Simon said. “Your servant, sir. Come, Geoffrey.” He went out, the captain at his heels.
“Milor’, my master would wish me to do all in my power—”
“I thank you. I have but to scour the taverns of this town and that I can best do myself.”
“There are six, milor’. A guide—?”
Simon paused.
“You are very good, sir. A guide, if you please.”
One was brought swiftly, and the cavalcade set out once more in the waning light.
“Art very surly,” Geoffrey said. “They are surely in Turincel. Where else should they be?”
“The Lady Margaret is too obstinate to own herself vanquished so easily,” Simon answered. “She will have gone on again. Plague take the woman!”
The insignificant tavern by the gates was the fourth at which they called, and by that time Geoffrey had grown uneasy. The landlord at the tavern was loth to disclose what he knew, until Geoffrey tossed him a gold piece. Then his tongue wagged freely, and it transpired that he was guilty of listening at keyholes.
“They rested the night here, sir. A parlour they had, and I did serve supper therein, for the lad was weary or ill. He crouched in a chair, and methought he looked very sick. I—I did—chance—to hear that they purposed journeying to Vazincourt. The—the red-bearded fellow—a bellowing, roaring, bully, good sir!—did speak loud, and—and I did hear him say ‘Raoul the Terrible.’ Then there was some talk of danger in Raoul’s land, and indeed, sir, no man will lightly enter it, for Raoul is the Devil himself. I—I think they did purpose going through his land, for it is the quickest way to Vazincourt.”
“Raoul!” Geoffrey gripped Simon’s arm. “Thou dost remember? That squat man with the loose speech and evil eyes! Into his lands! My Jeanne! Simon, to horse!”
“Thy Jeanne? She hath not the beauty of Margaret! If Raoul see the Countess—God’s Death, what folly is hers?” He turned and would have gone out again to his horse, had not the guide put in a word.
“Sir, it were folly indeed to enter the Terrible’s domain now! What good will ye do at night? Rest here till morning, sir!”
Simon stopped.
“Ay. I had forgot.”
“Simon, Simon, do not waste time!” Geoffrey implored.
“We can do no good, as this man says. Pay him, Geoffrey; I will arrange with the landlord.” He went into the tavern again.
Over supper they discussed the situation, Geoffrey in agitation but Simon calmly.
“If he has taken them prisoner he would not harm them. He is more like to sell them to me. He will not offend us. Ye remember how he came to submit when first we landed? Faugh!”
“Simon, thou dost not know! Much have I heard of this man. Not for nothing is he called the Terrible, and women—women are his pastime.”
“If he thinks to make a pastime of these women—” Simon broke off, but his eyes smouldered. “I will ride first to his castle. If they are not there—I will scour the land. It may be that they passed through unharmed. And yet—something warns me of danger. That red-bearded man … who could he be?”
“God knows. A rogue.”
“Yet he went with them. Therefore he sought not to rob, for that could he have done here. The Lady Margaret commands men’s loyalty and service, I think. God grant this one be true.”
“Thou art very anxious for the Lady Margaret,” Geoffrey remarked, but he was too worried to laugh or jibe at Simon.
“I am responsible for her to the King,” Simon said shortly.
They rode next day into Raoul’s lands, but although King Henry’s warrant, which Simon bore with him, gained them fearful respect, they could discover nothing. Ranaud had been careful to eschew high-roads, and Raoul’s domain was large. The tracks seemed lost, so Simon branched off to the north, deserting the route to Vazincourt, and riding towards Raoul’s stronghold.
“If he hath not taken her, I must have his aid,” Simon told Geoffrey. “Whiles we ride on to Vazincourt, Raoul must search within his own land. He dare not refuse me, for he is afraid for his peace. Ye remember his bearing when he came to the King?”
“Ay, and I would not trust him.”
“In this I can trust him, for he is a coward, and he would sell his soul to keep King Henry away.”
Raoul’s castle lay some miles to the north, and so bad was the road that it was close on five in the evening when they came to it. A stir was caused by their arrival, but a cringing chamberlain assured them that his lord was away at his palace in the south, where he hunted that week.
An oath escaped Geoffrey, for this meant that they had ridden a day’s journey out of their way. A storm was brewing, and they had not covered many miles on their return journey when it burst above their heads in such fury that Simon was forced to halt at the first village they came to, to take shelter for the night.
They were up betimes next morning, and rode on again in the calm weather that follows a storm. Shortly after eight they found themselves once more on the road that led to Vazincourt, and on inquiry of a peasant which was the way to Raoul’s hunting-lodge, were bidden to cut through the woods that flanked the road on one side, and to bear on to the southwest.
Picking their way, they pushed into the wood along the same path which Margaret and her companions had trodden the day before. Slowly they went, and carefully, for the low-hanging tree branches impeded their passage.
Suddenly Simon exclaimed, and reined in his horse. Startled, Geoffrey followed his gaze. By a
