Part 12 (2/2)
”Nay, you are fresh as the dawn.”
He brushed back the tawny hair from off his forehead, and the lines about his mouth softened.
”I have news from the west.”
”Ah!”
”We gather and spread like fire in a forest. The mountain men are with us, ready to roll down from the hills with hauberk and sword. In two months Malgo will have sent the b.l.o.o.d.y cross through all the west.”
The golden thread ran through the girl's white fingers; the beads of her rosary rattled; she seemed to be weaving the destiny of a kingdom into the device upon her banner.
”How is it with us here?” she asked him.
”I have a thousand stout men and true camped upon the cliff. Levies are coming in fast, like steel to a magnet. In a month we shall outbulk a Roman legion.”
”And Gilderoy?”
”Gilderoy and Geraint will give us a score thousand pikemen.”
”The stars fight for us.”
Fulviac took her lute from the carved bench and began to thrum the chords of an old song.
”Spears crash, and swords clang, Fame maddens the world.
Come battle and love.
Iseult-- Ah, Iseult.”
He broke away with a last snap at the strings, and set the lute aside.
”Bear with me,” he said.
Her dark eyes questioned him over her banner.
”I offer you the first victim.”
”Ah!”
”Flavian of Gambrevault.”
An indefinite shadow descended upon the girl's face. The inspired radiance seemed dimmed for the moment; the crude realism of her thoughts rang in discord to her dreams. She lost the glimmering thread from her needle. Her hands trembled a little as she played with the scarlet folds of the banner.
”Well?”
”A lad of mine bears news--a black-eyed rogue from the hills of Carlyath, sharp as a sword's point, quaint as an elf. I sent him gleaning, and he has done bravely. You would hear his tale from his own lips?”
She nodded and seemed distraught.
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