“O tarry not,” said Ursula; “nay, not for the passing of the night; but make this hour the sunrise, and begone by the clear of the moon.  For lo! how he shineth through the window!”

Then she turned to Richard, and said:  “O fosterer of my love, knowest thou not that as now he speaketh as a Friend of the Well, and wotteth more of far-off tidings than even this wise man of many years?”

Said Ralph:  “She sayeth sooth, O Richard.  Or how were it if the torch were even now drawing nigh to the High House of Upmeads:  yea, or if the very House were shining as a dreary candle of the meadows, and reddening the waters of the ford!  What do we here?”

Therewith he thrust the board from him, and arose and went to his harness, and fell to arming him, and he spake to Richard:  “Now shall thine authority open to us the gates of the good town, though the night be growing old; we shall go our ways, dear friend, and mayhappen we shall meet again, and mayhappen not:  and thou shalt tell my brother Blaise who wotteth not of my coming hither, how things have gone with me, and how need hath drawn me hence.  And bid him come see me at Upmeads, and to ride with a good band of proper men, for eschewing the dangers of the road.”

Then spake Richard:  “I shall tell Lord Blaise neither more nor less than thou mayst tell him thyself:  for think it not that thou shalt go without me.  As for Blaise, he may well spare me; for he is become a chief and Lord of the Porte; and the Porte hath now right good men-at-arms, and captains withal younger and defter than I be.  But now suffer me to send a swain for my horse and arms, and another to the captain of the watch at West-gate Bar that he be ready to open to me and three of my friends, and to send me a let-pass for the occasion.  So shall we go forth ere it be known that the brother of the Lord of the Porte is abiding at the Lamb.  For verily I see that the Lady hath spoken truth; and it is like that she is forseeing, even as thou hast grown to be.  And now I bethink me I might lightly get me a score of men to ride with us, whereas we may meet men worse than ourselves on the way.”

Said Ralph:  “All good go with thy words, Richard; yet gather not force:  there may stout men be culled on the road; and if thou runnest or ridest about the town, we may yet be stayed by Blaise and his men.  Wherefore now send for thine horse and arms, and bid the host here open his gates with little noise when we be ready; and we will presently ride out by the clear of the moon.  But thou, beloved, shalt don thine armour no more, but shalt ride henceforth in thy woman’s raiment, for the wild and the waste is well nigh over, and the way is but short after all these months of wandering; and I say that now shall all friends drift toward us, and they that shall rejoice to strike a stroke for my father’s son, and the peaceful years of the Friend of the Well.”