“Comrades, I have lost my brother in this broil.  I will take this woman for his blood money.”

But the others made answer,

“I, too, have lost my kin.  I claim as much as you, and my right is good as yours.”

So said a third, and a fourth, and a fifth.  Then spake yet another.

“In keeping of the lady will be found neither peace nor profit.  Rather let us lead her from here within the forest, there do our pleasure upon her, and then put her again upon the path, so that she may go her way.”

Thus they did as they had devised together, and left her on the road.

Right sick at heart was Messire Thibault when he saw her so entreated, but nothing could he do.  He bore no malice against his wife by reason of that which had befallen, for well he knew that it, was by force, and not according to her will.  When he saw her again, weeping bitterly and altogether shamed, he called to her, and said,

“Wife, for God’s love unloose me from these bonds, and deliver me from the torment that I suffer, for these thorns are sharper than I can endure.”

The lady hastened to the place where Sir Thibault lay, and marked a sword flung behind the bush, belonging to one of those felons that were slain.  She took the glaive, and went towards her lord, filled full of wrath and evil thoughts because of what had chanced to her.  She feared greatly lest her husband should bear malice for that which he had seen, reproaching her upon a day, and taunting her for what was past.  She said,

“Sir, you are out of your pain already.”

She raised the sword, and came towards her husband, thinking to strike him midmost the body.  When he marked the falling glaive he deemed that his day had come, for he was a naked man, clad in nought but his shirt and hosen.  He trembled so sorely that his bonds were loosed, and the lady struck so feebly that she wounded him but little, severing that baldrick with which his hands were made fast.  Thereat the knight brake the cords about his legs, and leaping upon his feet, cried, “Dame, by the grace of God it is not to-day that you shall slay me with the sword.”

Then she made answer, “Truly, sir, the sorer grief is mine.”

Sir Thibault took the sword, and set it again in the sheath, afterwards he put his hand upon the lady’s shoulder, and brought her back by the path they had fared.  At the fringe of the woodland he found a large part of his fellowship, who were come to meet him.  When these saw their lord and lady so spoiled and disarrayed they inquired of them, “Sir, who hath put you in this case?”

He set them by, saying that they had fallen amongst felons who had done them much mischief.

Mightily the sergeants lamented; but presently they fetched raiment from the packs, and arrayed them, for enough they had and to spare.  So they climbed into the saddle, and continued their journey.

They rode that day, nor for aught that had chanced did Messire Thibault show sourer countenance to the lady.  At nightfall they came to a goodly town, and there took shelter in an inn.  Messire Thibault sought of his host if there was any convent of nuns in those parts where a lady might repose her.  The host made answer to him,