Mellis and her brother had left Gawdy Town lying behind them on the blue edge of the sea. The day was very young, and a north wind came over the marshes1 about the mouth of the Rondel river, bending the reeds in the dykes2 and rousing ripples3 in the lengthening4 grass. Mellis was mounted on a modest nag5 whose brown coat and sleepy ears were more suited to the russet cloak she wore than to the brighter colors underneath6 it. Gilbert marched at her side. His eyes looked gray in the morning; the north wind had pinched his courage a little; and he and Mellis were to part for a while.
“Keep your heart up, sweet sister.”
She looked down at him and smiled. Her eyes were steadier than his, and more determined7, and she was less touched by the north wind. His nature was more mercurial8, more restless, not so patient when life’s adventure dragged.
“I feel near home, Gilbert. I think I could live in the Forest—like a wild thing.”
“Woodmere must be all green, and the lilies white on the water. The house is but a shell, they say.”
Her eyes filled with a great tenderness.
“My heart is there,” she said, sighing.
A flock of sheep passed them, being driven to the river pastures. A great wood-wain came rumbling9 along, loaded high with brown fagots. Mellis’s nostrils10 dilated11, and her eyes shone.
“What a good ship, and what merchandise! I can smell the Forest.”
He laughed, with a note of recklessness.
“Oh the merry, merry life, with the horn and the hound, and the bed under the greenwood tree. Why did our people wear the wrong color, sister? Our hearts were red, and the color beggared us.”
“My heart is the color of fire,” she answered him, “and I let it burn with the thought of vengeance12. When will you begin to tell me your secrets?”
“Very soon, sister. I want no listeners within a mile of us. You see how discreet13 I am! Gawdy Town is a pest of a place; even the dogs do their spying; and there is always the chance of your getting a knife in your back. That is why I thought it better that you should go.”
“Have you ever found me a coward?”
“Dear heart, you are too brave, and such courage may be dangerous.”
They were leaving the marshes behind them, and the Rondel had taken to itself glimmering14 green lines of pollard willows15. Little farmsteads dotted the long northward16 slope of the hills. Here and there the Forest showed itself, thrusting a green headland into the cornlands and the meadows.
Gilbert was on the alert. Presently he pointed17 to an open beech18 wood that spread down close to the road.
“There is our council chamber19, Mellis.”
“It should serve.”
“We can tie up the nag and see how my friend the cook has filled your saddle-bags.”
They turned aside into the beech wood, tethered the horse, and sat down under a tree. They were hidden from the road; the gray trunks hemmed20 them in.
Gilbert was examining the saddle-bags.
“That cook is a brave creature! Good slices of bread with meat in between. And a bottle of wine. There is enough stuff here to last you for days. Dear Lord, what trouble I was at to explain my buying of that sorry old nag!”
He set one of the bags between them.
“Now for dinner and a gossip. There are two words that you must never utter, Mellis, save when some one challenges you with the question, ‘What of Wales?’ ”
“And those words?”
“Are ‘Owen Tudor.’ They will win you friends where friends are to be had, but also they might hang you.”
“Of course.”
“Our plans have not gone so badly. Our king across the water is a shrewd gentleman. Our business is to stir up a hornets’ nest in these parts; others will play the same game elsewhere, so that Crooked21 Dick shall be stung in a hundred places while Lord Harry22 is crossing the sea. Roger Bland23 is our arch enemy.”
She drew in a deep breath.
“Do I forget it?”
“Tsst!—not............