Denise’s eyes were on the red pavilion. The flap thereof was open, and in the black slit that clove like a wedge into the colour, Denise thought that she saw a man standing and looking towards where she and Marpasse sat. Marpasse was still at her meal, when two men-at-arms came out of the red pavilion, carrying their shields as servers carry dishes to a table. They came over the grass towards the women, while a man in a blue surcoat appeared at the door of the pavilion, and stood as though to watch. Denise half rose, but Marpasse caught her, and pulled her back. “Sit still. You are far too simple.” “It is Gaillard, yonder!” “Yes, yes. Fool him first, my dear, and then run away when he is not looking. That is what we women have to do when men are the stronger.” The two soldiers came up, and stood before Denise. One carried food and a flask of wine in the hollow of his shield; the other, a red scarf and a silver girdle. “Messire Gaillard, our lord, yonder, begs for the Lady Denise’s good-will.” Marpasse beckoned with her arm. “Give them here, sirs, my good will is worth homage.” The men grinned, and inclined their heads with quaint accord towards Denise. “It is the grey, not the blue,” said one. Denise stared at the grass, and did not catch Marpasse’s urgent nods and winks. “I take no gifts from Messire Gaillard,” she said. Marpasse made an impatient clucking with her tongue. How prejudiced people did bungle matters, to be sure! “Think twice, my dear,” she said meaningly. Denise repeated the same words. The men grinned, looked at one another, and did not stir. “Messire Gaillard,” said they, “has set us at your service. It is proper that you should be guarded when all men are not as honourable as our lord.” Denise saw herself trapped, and went red, and then white. She looked at Marpasse, but Marpasse stared obtusely into the distance, knowing that they were in the Gascon’s hands, and that the men had been sent to see that they did not flit. Marpasse remembered the promise of the knife, but the morning was cold and grey, and Marpasse too practical and hopeful to indulge in such heroics. Therefore she put the best face she could upon it for Denise’s sake, and Marpasse knew how to deal with men. “Sit down, gentlemen,” said she, “I am sorry the fire is out, but we shall be moving before long. You, there, with the beard, since my sister is in the sulks, I will take some of that baked meat and wine you have brought us. Now, good health to the King, and all soldiers.”