At the moment, I, who on this day had passed the portals of so many emotions:  that of the lover’s longing for his bride won at last, only to be lost again, that of acute and necessary business, that of the ancient joy of battle and vengeance wreaked upon an evil man; that of the unshuttering of my own eyes to the flame of a hellish truth, that of the self-murder and turning to cold clay before those same eyes of her whom I had hoped to clasp in honest love—­I, I say, felt as though I, too, were dead.  Indeed all within was dead, only the shell of flesh remained alive, and in my heart I echoed the words of my old uncle and of a wiser than he who went before him—­“Vanity of vanities!  All is vanity!”

It was Kari who spoke first, Kari as ever calm and even-voiced, saying in his broken English of which but the substance is recorded: 

“Things have happened, good things I hold, though you, Master, may think otherwise for a little while.  Yet in this rough land of savages and small justice these things may bring trouble.  That lord brought a writing,” and he nodded towards the document on the table, “and talked of death for you, Master—­not for himself.  And the lady, while she still lived, she say—­’Fly, fly or die!’ And now?” and he glanced at the two bodies.

I looked at him vacantly for the numbness following the first shock was passing away and all the eating agony of my loss began to fix its fangs upon my heart.

“Whither can I fly?” I asked.  “And why should I fly?  I am an innocent man and for the rest, the sooner I am dead the better.”

“My Master must fly,” answered Kari in swift, broken words, “because he still live and is free.  Also sorrow behind, joy before.  Kari, who hate women and read heart, Kari who drink this same bitter water long ago, guess these things coming and think and think.  No need that Master trouble, Kari settle all and tell Master that if he do what he say, everything come right.”

“What am I to do?” I asked with a groan.

“Ship Blanche on great river ready for sea.  Master and Kari sail in her before daybreak.  Here leave everything:  much land, much wealth—­what matter?  Life more than these things which can get again.  Come.  No, one minute, wait.”

Then he went to the body of Deleroy and with wonderful swiftness took off it the chain coat he wore beneath his tunic, which he put on his own body.  Also he took his sword and buckled it about him, while the parchment writ he threw upon the fire.  Then he extinguished the hanging lamp and gave me one of the candles, taking the other himself.

At the door I held up my candle and by the light of it looked my last upon the ashen face of Blanche, which face I knew must go with me through all my life’s days.

Kari locked the stout oaken door of the solar from the outside and took me into my chamber, where was the armour of the knight whom I had killed on Hastings Hill, which armour I had caused to be altered to fit myself.  Swiftly he buckled it on to me, throwing over all a long, dark robe such as merchants wear.  From the cupboard, too, he brought the big black bow and a sheath of arrows, also a purseful of gold pieces from where they were kept, and with them the leathern bag which he had worn when I found him on the quay.