“Give me your silver cross,” she said, “I lent the little gold one that was William’s to the Lady Sybilla, and she hath not returned it me again.”

Maud gave her the cross and she took it and held it in the palm of her hand looking long at it.  Then she repeated one by one the children’s orisons she had been taught, and after that she made a little prayer of her own.  This is the prayer.

“Lord of mercy, be good to two maids who are lonely and weak, and shut up in this place of evil men.  Keep our lives and our souls, and also our bodies from harm.  Make us not afraid of the dark or of the devil.  For Thou art the stronger.  And do not forget to be near us this night, for we have no other friend and sorely do we need one to love and deliver us.  Amen.”

It was true.  More bitterly than any two in the whole world, these maidens needed a friend at that moment.  For scarcely had the childish accents been lost in the night silence, when the outer door of the White Tower was thrown open to the wall, and on the steps of the turret stair they heard the noise of men coming upwards to their prison-room.

But first, though the inner door of their chamber was locked within, the bolts glided back apparently of their own accord.  It opened, and the hideous face of La Meffraye looked in upon them with a cackle of fiendish laughter.

“Come, sweet maidens,” she cried gleefully, as the frightened girls clasped each other closer upon the bed, “come away.  The Marshal de Retz calls for you.  He hath need of your beauty to grace his feast.  The lights of the banquet burn in his hall.  See the fire of burning shine out upon the night.  The very trees are red with it.  The skies are red.  All is red.  Come—­up—­make yourselves fair for the eyes of the great lord to behold!”

Then behind La Meffraye entered Gilles de Sille and Poitou, the marshal’s servants.

“Make ready in haste—­you are both to go instantly before my lord, who abides your coming!” said Gilles de Sille.  “Poitou and I will abide without the door, and La Meffraye here shall be your tirewoman and see that you have that which you need.  But hasten, for my lord is instant and cannot be kept waiting!”

* * * * *

So they brought the Scottish maidens down from the White Tower into the night.  They walked hand in hand.  Their steps did not falter, and, as they went, they prayed to God to keep them from the dangers of the place.  Astarte, the she-wolf, who must have kept guard beneath, stalked before them, and behind them they seemed to hear the hobbling crutch and cackling laughter of La Meffraye.

Across the wide courtyard of Machecoul they went.  It also was filled with the reflection of the red tide of light which ebbed and flowed, waxing and waning above.  Saving for that window the whole castle was wrapped in gloom and silence, and if there were any awake within the precincts they knew better than to spy upon the midnight doings of their dread lord.