Yet the tail of Gaillard’s company brought a far fiercer inspiration, for Denise walked there beside Marpasse, Denise with her hair of red gold shining like a torch against the green. She walked as one going to the ordeal of fire, white-faced, mute, looking neither to the right hand nor left. Her grey cloak went like a cloud beside Marpasse’s azure blue. The two men-at-arms rode stolidly behind, while the men in the rear rank of Gaillard’s troop were laughing and joking with Marpasse. Aymery stiffened as he lay, and his hand went to the sword in the dead bracken beside him. He scrambled suddenly to his knees, with a fierce, inarticulate cry deep down in his throat. Waleran seized him, and dragged him back to cover, for they were so near the road that the slightest movement might betray them. “God, man, are you mad!” Aymery lay there a moment with his face on his arms. He said nothing to Waleran, but when he raised his head again his face was grim and full of thought. He kept watch there in silence, but the road was empty now save for a few camp-followers, women and beggars. Aymery rose on one elbow, and looked towards the drifting dust that hung on the heels of the King’s host. He turned suddenly to Waleran. “Brother, you and I must part company for a while. Go back to our men. I must follow the march farther.” Waleran looked at him curiously out of half-closed eyes. “I know the man you are. Simon trusts us both.” They scrambled up out of their “forms,” and went back through the wood till they came to a dell where they had left their horses. Aymery laid his hands on Waleran’s shoulders. “Brother-in-arms,” he said, “trust me. I have a book to read, and a debt to pay. There is nothing of the traitor in my heart.” Waleran hugged him like a bear. “Blood of my father, I know that! I can carry the news.” They parted there, two men who loved and trusted one another. Aymery took spear, shield, and helmet, and mounted his horse to follow the march of the King’s host, that splendid stream that seemed to gather and to carry with it all the pomp and music, the violence and passion, and the suffering sinfulness that the land held. CHAPTER XXX A halt was called at noon, and Denise, who had walked for four long hours, felt that hopeless weariness that yearns only for some corner where the body may lie relaxed. Her feet were burning, and she and Marpasse had been trudging in the dust made by the horses, dust that had clogged the air, and made the eyes tingle. Denise was glad to throw herself on the grass beside Marpasse, who was much less weary, being tougher, and more used to the road. Marpasse was very wide awake. She looked narrowly at Denise, and rolled to the side on one elbow so as to be nearer. “We have our chance now, are you strong enough?” Denise’s dull eyes brightened, and she moistened her lips with her tongue. “If we only had water! What can we do—here, Marpasse, with the men all round us?”