He mounted his roan horse, galloped bareback to the vachery, and ordered the cowherd to the White Lodge with his women and children. “Turn the cows out and let them fend for themselves, Barnabas. The wagon starts for Lewes in an hour.” When he returned to the White Lodge Fulk found that two other foresters had come in and were helping Peter of Pippinford yoke eight oxen to the wagon, and load some of the household gear into it. Fulk chose Peter to be the leader, and charged them to return when they had lodged the women within the walls of Lewes town. He chose John to bide with him, because John was a coward, and the best men were wanted in the wagon; and John looked sulkily at Fulk, having no stomach for the White Lodge when such rough gentry were hunting men as well as deer. Fulk passed into the house, went to Isoult’s room, and stood in the doorway, beckoning. “Come.” She was ready, dressed in all her rich colours, her hair in its silver net, her knife and gypsire at her girdle. She looked at Fulk with intent and questioning eyes, considering something in her heart. “Is it the swainmote?” “No. The boors have gone mad and are running wild. I am sending the womenfolk to Lewes town for shelter, and you will go with them.” “And you?” “A deer master does not run away from swine.” Isoult did not move. “Messire Fulk, if I choose to stay here——” “On my faith, the choice is not with you. Put on your cloak and hood.” She eyed him half defiantly, yet as one who loved to be defied. “I’ll make you carry me. It may be that you hold a hostage and know it not!” He went a step nearer. “What! Are you with these nameless fools?” “Did I say so?” “Come, have done; time’s precious.” Her loftiness topped his impatience. “I choose to stay. You brought me here, and if it must be that I should go, you must put me out even as you brought me in.” They stood, measuring each other, Isoult’s red mouth smiling provocation. Fulk fell to frowning because some strange emotion stirred in him, a fierce young wonder that had stumbled of a sudden upon this woman’s comeliness. Her audacity seemed to beat its wings and to soar against his pride, and her eyes had all the luring gloom of the woods. “Come; I have no desire to be rough, Isoult.” “Ah, but a man’s roughness——” Isoult, looking beyond Fulk, saw Margaret Ferrers standing in the doorway. “Fulk, do we wait for this woman?” He stood back with a sweep of the arm. “Come, let us waste no more words.” Dame Margaret’s mouth sneered, but her eyes were afraid of Isoult’s. She stood there menacingly, as though longing to utter the one word—“harlot.” Isoult’s chin went up. “Dame Ferrers, this woman waits for nobody. I go at my own pleasure.” She passed out, her arm touching Fulk’s sleeve, her eyes throwing a quick side-glance into his. “Stiffnecked as ever. You must take your choice.”