“What is the use of that,” she said; “bah, take it away, my brother!” Grimbald nodded his head. Marpasse spread her arms, and then pointed to Isoult. “See, there, what has God to say to such a thing? When we are born in a ditch, and kept in a ditch, and kicked into a ditch at the end, what has the Cross to do with it?” Grimbald knelt down quite solemnly, and looked at Isoult. “What a child! Who said that she had sinned, sister?” Marpasse’s mouth was full of scoffing. “We have stones thrown at us. We are too black for the good folk to soil their hands in washing us.” Grimbald turned his face to her, and his eyes shone. “The Lord said ‘let those who are without sin cast the first stone.’ What do you make of those words, sister?” “That the devil must put his tongue in his cheek when the good people go to church,” said Marpasse. Grimbald got up, and went and stood in front of Marpasse. They looked each other in the eyes like two sturdy souls sure of hearing the truth. “Do you see her in eternal flames, sister?” asked the man. “On my oath, I do not. The child had good in her, when people did not thrust thorns into her face.” Grimbald nodded his head solemnly. “I would have the flaying of all hypocrites,” he said, “as for such lives, I would mend them in heaven.” “You will put up a prayer, Father. I have money.” Grimbald almost glowered at her. “Will my tongue do any better for the stuff! Help me to pull the child away. We can find her a clean grave somewhere. As for my prayers, God knows the ways of the world.” Marpasse had an impetuous heart. She took Grimbald by the girdle. “I could kiss that mouth of yours, Father,” she said, “because it talks out straight, and is the mouth of a man.” The river Ouse took toll that evening from the King’s host, drawing many a rider into its deeps, while the bogs and the morasses opened their slimy mouths for food. The Prince had saved a portion of his following from the rout upon the hillside, and breaking away he found the west gate of Lewes held against him, and was compelled to gallop round the town to join the King at the Priory of St. Pancras. The greater number of the royalist leaders had fled, riding for the castle of Pevensey, whence they could cross into France. The King’s brothers, William de Valence and Guy de Lusignan, were galloping for their lives, and with them a crowd of adventurers and free-lances who knew that they would be hanged on the forest trees if the country folk could lay their hands on them. Hugh Bigot and Earl de Warenne were with the fugitives. The King of the Romans and his son, the Scotch nobles, many English lords, and a crowd of lesser men had been taken by Earl Simon.