Fulk and Isoult stood listening. “I slew four here: three by the door and one in yonder. That leaves but five.” Isoult’s eyes never left the panel of light framed by the heap of faggots and the arch of the doorway. “All the windows are shuttered.” “They may try to fire the house from the outside—thrust a torch into the thatch.” “Let them try it. There is God’s air outside for us. Your bow and my sword can tackle five men.” “Listen!” She touched his arm, and he heard what she had heard—the splashing of water down by the mere. “Are more coming over?” “No, no; it is on this side.” There was no doubt as to the sound; it was the noise made by the men’s rough paddles striking the water. They had taken to the raft of tree trunks, and were ferrying back across the mere, for the sound went away towards the farther bank. Fulk dropped his sword, caught Isoult, and held her. “Isoult, Isoult, death goes over the water.” “Ah—and life comes in!” A great silence descended over the Black Mere—a silence that was strangely soft and kindly after that half silence that had hidden the stealthy movements of men. For a while they stood listening, hardly believing that they were alone. But the stillness was unbroken; the peril that had threatened them had melted into the night. Fulk threw the faggots aside and went out into the moonlight. He was cautious at first, half suspecting some trick, and he looked sharply to right and left as he walked down through the garden to the mere. All ripples had died away; the water lay still and untroubled. Isoult had followed him, and they held hands and looked over the mere. “What of to-morrow, Isoult, what of to-morrow?” “I would rather be beyond the sea, where Merlin is not.” “Is Merlin still to be feared?” “He is a lustful hound who has hunted for many masters. Who knows whom he serves?” They made their way back to the house, but it seemed full of a horror of darkness and of dead men lying in their blood. Isoult would not enter it. “That darkness would choke me. I would rather lie out under the moon.” Fulk remembered the horses, and went round to the stables to see if the beasts were safe. The door was still shut as he had left it, and he blessed the good luck that had left them the horses, for they might need them on the morrow. He found a truss of hay, and, carrying it into the garden, broke the bands, and spread it under an old yew tree about ten paces from the house. “Lie down and sleep. I will keep watch.” “We will take turns at watching.” “Sleep first, then.” “Promise that you will wake me.” “I promise.”