Having shaken off the earth roughly, he pulled out a sheath-knife and trimmed the branches till he had made him a kind of club, with which he threatened me, saying, “If I catch that young man at any tricks, with this club will Jan Lubber Fiend break every bone in his skin, like the shells of so many broken eggs.”

Then laughing a little, and seeing that nothing could be made of the fellow, the Lady Ysolinde rode on and we followed her.  We thought that surely there would be no difficulty in shaking him off long ere we reached our lodging-place of the evening, and that he would find his way back to the city of Thorn.

But even though we set our horses to their speed, it seemed to make no difference to the unwieldy giant.  He merely stretched his legs a little farther, and caused his great gaskined feet to pass each other as fast as if they had been shod with seven-league boots.  So he not only kept up with us easily, but oftentimes made a detour through the fields and over the wild country on either side, as a questing dog does, ever returning to us with some quaint vagrant fancy or quip of childish simplicity.

But what pleased me better than the appearance of the Lubber Fiend was that ere we had gone quite two miles out of the city we found two well-armed and stanch-looking soldiers waiting for us at a kind of cross-road.  They were armed with the curious powder-guns which were coming into fashion from France.  These went off with a noble report, and killed sometimes at as much as fifteen or twenty paces when the aim was good.  The fellows had swords also, and little polished shields on their left arms—­altogether worthy and notable body-guards.

“These two are soldiers of the Guard from Plassenburg,” said the Lady Ysolinde, “though now they are travelling as members of a Free Company desiring to enter upon new engagements.  But they will make the way easier and pleasanter for us, as well as infinitely safer, being veterans well accustomed to the work of quartering and foraging.”

As indeed we were to find ere the day ended.

So we rode on in the brilliant light, and the long, long day seemed all too brief to us who were young, and scarce delivered from the prison-house of Thorn.  And to my shame I admit that my heart rose with every mile that I put between me and the Red Tower.

Indeed, I hardly had a thought to spend on my father.  The hot quadrangle of the Wolfsberg, ever smelling of horses and the swelter of shed blood, the howling, fox-colored demons in the kennels, the black Duke Casimir —­right gladly I forgot them all.  Aye, I forgot even my father, and everything save that I was riding with two fair women through a world where all was love and spring, and where it was ever the prime of a young morning.

The Lady Ysolinde could not make enough of our Little Playmate.  She laughed back at her over her shoulder when she let her horse out for a canter.  She marvelled loudly at Helene’s good riding, and at the unbound beauty of the crisp ringlets which clustered round her head like a boy’s.  And our Helene smiled, well pleased, and ceased to watch my eyes or to grow silent if I checked my horse too long by the side of the Lady Ysolinde.