“Cease to be angry,” said the Knight.  “Thine anger affrights me not, yet it hurts thyself.  Listen, mine own beloved, and I will tell thee the cruel, and yet blessed, truth.

“Seven months after I left thee, a messenger reached our camp, bearing letters from England; no word for me from thee; but a long missive from thy half-sister Eleanor, breaking to me the news that, being weary of my absence, and somewhat over-persuaded, thou hadst wedded Humphry; Earl of Carnforth.

“It was no news to me, that Humphry sought to win thee; but, that thou hadst let thyself be won away from thy vow to me, was hell’s own tidings.

“In my first rage of grief I would have speech with none.  But, by-and-by, I sought the messenger, and asked him casually of things at home.  He told me he had seen thy splendid nuptials with the lord of Carnforth, had been present at the marriage, and joined in the after revels and festivities.  He said thou didst make a lovely bride, but somewhat sad, as if thy mind strayed elsewhere.  The fellow was a kind of lawyer’s clerk, but lean, and out at elbow.

“Then I sought ’Frida, my cousin.  She too had had a letter, giving the news.  She told me she long had feared this thing for me, knowing the heart of Humphry to be set on winning thee, and that Eleanor approved his suit, and having already heard that of late thou hadst inclined to smile on him.  She begged me to do nothing rash or hasty.

“‘What good were it,’ she said, ’to beg the King for leave to hasten home?  If you kill Humphry, Hugh, you do but make a widow of the woman you have loved; nor could you wed the widow of a man yourself had slain.  If Humphry kills you—­well, a valiant arm is lost to the Holy Cause, and other hearts, more faithful than hers, may come nigh to breaking.  Stay here, and play the man.’

“So, by the messenger, I sent thee back a letter, asking thee to write me word how it was that thou, being my betrothed, hadst come to do this thing; and whether Humphry was good to thee, and making thy life pleasant.  To Humphry I sent a letter saying that, thy love being round him as a silver shield, I would not slay him, wound him, or touch him!  But—­if he used thee ill, or gave thee any grief or sorrow, then would I come, forthwith, and send him straight to hell.

“These letters, with others from the camp, went back to England by that clerkly messenger.  No answers were returned to mine.

“Meanwhile I went, with my despair, out to the battlefield.

“No tender shield was round me any more.  I fought, like a mad wild beast.  So often was I wounded, that they dubbed me ’The Knight of the Bloody Vest.’

“At last they brought me back to camp, delirious and dying.  My cousin ’Frida, there biding her time, nursed me back to life, and sought to win for herself (I shame to say it) the love which thou hadst flouted.  I need not tell thee, my cousin ’Frida failed.  The Queen herself as good as bid me wed her favourite Lady.  The Queen herself had to discover that she could command an English soldier’s life, but not his love.