Denise drew back abruptly behind the trunk of a great tree. She had heard a crackling of dry leaves, a sound of men moving, voices calling in harsh undertones, one to the other. She crouched down amid the gnarled tree roots, her lips apart, her eyes at gaze. The heavy breathing of tired beasts came to her, with the rustle of leaves, and the quick plodding of many feet. As she crouched there she saw figures go scurrying away through the mysterious shadowland of the woods. Some were mounted on forest ponies, others fleeing on foot. One man passed within ten yards of Denise, his mouth open, his hands clawing the air beside him as he ran. None of them saw her, none of them looked back. They disappeared like so many flitting shadows, and a second silence covered their tracks as water closes behind the keel of a ship. Denise tarried no longer, but rose and ran back towards the cell. Those flying shadows amid the beech trees had told her all that she could need to know. As for Aymery, she must hide him and take her chance. Her gown gleamed in and out through shadow and sunshine, while the tonguing of the dogs and the scream of the horns haunted her like the discords of a dream. Denise had half crossed the clearing when she saw a sight that made her catch her breath. Close by the gate lay Aymery, propping himself upon one arm, his head drooping like the head of a man who has been smitten through with a sword. She ran to him, her eyes a-fire. “Lord, what have you done?” He lifted his face to her, a face that was grey and moist in the sunlight. She saw that the linen swathings over his shoulder were red with vivid stains. “I have time—yet.” Denise bent over him. “You are mad, you are bleeding anew.” “Give me wine, Denise; I can crawl, if I cannot walk.” She put her arms about him and tried to lift him to his feet. “No, no, come back to the cell. They are beating the woods. I saw men flying for their lives.” Aymery clung to her, and gained his feet. “Denise, I must take my chance, help me into the woods.” But his eyes went dim and blind in the sunlight, and Denise, as she looked at him, uttered a sharp, passionate cry. “Lord, you have tempted death enough. Come. There is no time to lose.” Denise was strong beyond her strength as she put an arm about him, and half led, half carried him into the cell. She let Aymery sink upon the bed, and covered him with the coverlet that he had thrown aside. “For God’s love, lie still,” she said. “Should they come this way I will put them off with lies.”