“Ah!” Quickly he went forward to the bush through which Margaret and Ranaud had plunged when they raced to Jeanne’s rescue. “That was not done by the storm!” Simon said, and pointed to the broken branches. “Some large body forced its way through. Did they not say the red-beard was a giant?”
“Through! Through!” Geoffrey said hoarsely, and dived in.
Simon followed him, and they came upon the cutting at the end of which Raoul had captured Jeanne. With one accord the two men strode down it, and presently came to where Margaret’s dagger lay. Simon pounced upon it.
“There has been a struggle. See! Hoof marks!” He pointed to the trampled ground, and Geoffrey saw the muscles about his jaw stand out in anger. “Out on his hunt, belike, and found them. Two women. ’Twas good enough. By God, if harm has been done to either he will dearly rue the day! Come!”
“Simon, that devil with my Jeanne! My little, little Jeanne!” Geoffrey hurried after him, back to where their men waited.
Through the wood they went, and out on to the open. A rough track plainly showed the way to the palace, and they rode down it at a brisk canter.
“I command thee, Geoffrey, keep thy head! Raoul will give them up, but we are eight men to their hundreds, and we must go cautiously to work. I go as an envoy from King Henry. It should be simple.”
“If he has hurt Jeanne—”
“If he hath discovered that the page is none other than Margaret of Belrémy, he will seek to sell her, methinks. He will not harm them, unless he is a fool.”
Geoffrey said nothing, but he compressed his lips in disbelief. Presently the palace came into view, and a few minutes later they halted before it. Simon turned to Walter of Santoy.
“Walter, Sir Geoffrey and I enter alone. Do you hold the horses here, in readiness. Stir not until I come. No danger awaits us, for I go as an envoy.” He dismounted and gave his horse into Walter’s care. Together he and Geoffrey went to the great door of the palace, and knocked upon it loudly.
A lackey opened it, but fell back when he saw the two armour-clad figures who stood there so menacingly.
Simon showed his warrant.
“I am Simon of Beauvallet, and I come with a message from King Henry to your master. Lead me to him, sirrah!”
“Lord Simon!” The man crossed himself. “My master is—is—occupied. I doubt—”
“Knave!” thundered Simon. “Do ye deny the King’s messenger ingress? Lord Raoul knows that I come. Lead me to him!”
Too nervous and startled to reflect that his master had not warned his household of a messenger’s advent, the lackey ushered them in, and called forward the steward who thought it politic to placate this wrathful man in golden armour. Accordingly he backed before Simon, bowing low, and conducted him up the stairs to the room where Raoul sat, with his three prisoners. He flung wide the door and announced the Lord of Beauvallet in the name of King Henry of England.
XIII
How He Found the Lady Margaret
When Raoul pressed his flaccid lips to Margaret’s mouth a second time, she jerked her head back wildly, tearing at his encircling arms like a tigress. Jeanne sprang to her aid, eluding her guard, and was borne back again before she had time to do more than strike at the grinning face bent over Margaret. Slowly Raoul controlled the frenzied struggling of Margaret’s limbs.
“The dove shows fight indeed,” he purred. “Well, I like it better so.”
Then was the door flung open, and then did the steward call Simon’s name. On the threshold two knights stood; one all gold and green, the other black and steel.
With an oath Raoul let Margaret go, pushing her from him so that she fell on to the ground. This was the worst that could befall Raoul, and as he passed his tongue between his lips, he sought feverishly in his mind for a plausible excuse wherewith to soften this English devil. For of all things he most feared an English invasion of his land.
But Simon had seen, and the sight of Margaret’s slim figure, fighting madly with this deformed, evil creature, awoke some hitherto dormant emotion within him. Rage surged up, and suddenly everything grew red. For the first time in his life he forgot caution, and sprang forward.
“Dog!” he roared, and caught Raoul in his iron grip, forcing him backwards over his bent knee, down and down, hands tightening above the flabby throat, crushing out life. His lips were drawn back in a terrible snarl, and his eyes blazed. “Die, thou dog! Die!” he cried, and stabbed above the collarbone with Margaret’s dagger, which he still held.
It was all over in a few seconds, but Raoul’s men were upon Simon even as he stabbed. Up he sprang, throwing the dying man down, and tore his sword from the scabbard. After the first shock of surprise Geoffrey had acted quickly, dragging the steward into the room that he might not give the alarm, and slamming the door to. Out came his sword, and in a flash he was upon Simon’s assailants, attacking them from the rear.
The two men who held Ranaud’s arms, lost their heads, and released him to join in the fight. One only got to the struggling mass, for Ranaud seized the other, and dealt him such a blow upon the chin, that he lost consciousness. Then the giant rushed to aid Geoffrey, and kicking against one fallen man, stopped to wrench the sword from his dead grasp. With this he fell to work, using it like a quarterstaff, and causing considerable damage upon the armourless courtiers.
Margaret flew to
