XXIX WHAT SIMON FOUND IN THE FOREST Simon made his way through the forest idly and at all adventure. He was trying to think what the world would have been like if a girl of the kind of Argathona had chosen to take him for mate. But by-and-by he found this manner of musing too melancholy, and did his best to banish it by pricking a lively interest in his surroundings, looking hither and thither at woodland sights that pleased him, reminding him of Normandy. So by degrees he made some way across the wood, steering, as he guessed, in the direction of the highway, when suddenly he became aware of something bright and golden glancing through the tree-trunks. Curious to see what that could be which glittered and twinkled so brilliantly through those sombre aisles, Simon pushed his way rapidly till he came to a little open space where the trees were thinner, and there he saw a strange sight. From the boughs of one of the trees a man was hanging that was clad in coat of gold and had a cloth bound about the lower part of his face, but the man was not hanging free, for his feet were firmly planted on the saddle of a dappled horse that seemed to wait very contentedly beneath him. As Simon came into the clearing he saw the eyes of the poor wretch that was pinioned and gibbeted thus fixed upon him in the very eloquence of entreaty, and Simon's purpose was very instant to answer the appeal. He trod at a brisk trot across the interval of grass that divided him from the piteous fellow in that perilous pillory, and when he had come near him he coaxed and wooed the horse cunningly for a moment or so lest he should start and put his surmounter's neck in danger. But the horse stood still and allowed him to come close, and when he was hard by Simon caught at the bridle with a gentle firmness to stay the animal from stirring. Slipping the bridle over the hook of his left elbow, he clasped that arm around the legs of the pendulous fellow, while with his right hand he plucked his sword from its sheath and sheared at the rope that was about the pinioned man's neck. In another moment the captive was safe in his arms, and the next Simon had set him on his legs on the grass. Simon cut the bonds that bound his wrists, and then, pulling the gagging-cloth from the victim's face, recognized to his astonishment the page Bohemond, that was wont to wait so dapper and alert upon the Duchess of Thebes. At first the poor lad could scarcely speak, but when he had wit and skill to articulate he cried in an awful voice: "The duchess, the duchess, where is the duchess?" Then it seemed as if he could say no more, but after Simon had plied him with a little of the scanty liquor that yet remained in his flagon the boy grew voluble, and told in scraps and tags of passion and anguish a most monstrous story.