“No, father.” “The Polecat is out; we shall have news.” John Ball spread his hands to the blaze. “The voice of an angel, a bright angel on the white clouds at dawn. Shall it not sing the children into Paradise?” Big Blanche’s face grew sullen and lowering. She glanced up suddenly and caught Guy the Stallion watching her mockingly, laughing at the jealousy that she could not hide. She flounced round and turned her back. “What will you make of Isoult, father?” John Ball was blind to such a thing as raillery. “Isoult shall stand in the gateway of our new city and sing. I will put golden words into her mouth. And because of her beauty——” The woman by the fire twitched her shoulders. “Golden words in the mouth of such a——” Father Merlin’s figure straightened suddenly, and his hooked nose protruded like the beak of a bird from under the shadow of his hood. “’Ssst!” “What is it?” “Listen.” They remained motionless, rigid, so many stark black figures seen against the glow of the fire. The night was very still and windless, and the hollies seemed weighed down by the heavy, midnight silence. From somewhere came a rustling sound as of dead leaves blown along the forest’s floor. Father Merlin’s head moved slowly from side to side on its long and sinewy throat; the swashbuckler’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. They heard a jay scream, and Blanche drew in a deep breath and laughed. “The Polecat!” “That was his cry.” “Come down into the light, good friend, and welcome.” A little man with a face like a wild cat’s appeared from nowhere, and threw himself down beside Big Blanche. His eyes were red and small and wonderfully restless, and his hair looked like a mass of little black snakes writhing all in a tangle. For the moment he said nothing, but reaching out with both hands, grabbed a bottle of mead with one and half a loaf with the other. The animal was thirsty and hungry, and they suffered him to have his will. Jack Straw was the first to question him. “What news, Polecat, out of the wood?” The man still masticated, and answered as he ate. “The duke’s foresters have taken Isoult.” “What! John of Gaunt’s green bullies?” “I always said the wench was too venturesome.” “What have they done?” “Lugged her to the White Lodge. It was young Fulk, the riding forester, who took her. I might have stabbed him in the dark, but the young wolf was too wary.” Father Merlin grinned and bit his nails. John Ball stared at the fire and said nothing. It was Guy the Stallion who jumped up, swaggered, tightened his belt, and looked at his comrades’ faces. “Nothing to say, good brothers? See here, the sword has its tongue. I’ll have Isoult out of the White Lodge, by cock, before they can say a Pater!” Big Blanche twisted round of a sudden, and snapped at him like an angry dog. “Sit down, fool. Let the jade——” “Fool! Shut that jealous mouth of yours. You—to be jealous of Isoult, the hen of the falcon!”