They rode back to the Black Mere next morning, and a buxom old gentleman
on a white palfrey rode with them, even Father Hilarius, whom Knollys
had chartered and sworn to secrecy and discretion. Father Hilarius was a
merry soul. He cracked jests by the way, and the sly good humour oozed
out of him like honey out of a broken comb. Nothing pleased him better
than a marriage. He liked the cup of wine at the end of it, and the
sententious benignity of his own words concerning love and the begetting
of children.
Fulk took the quips in good part. Father Hilarius’s wit blew like a
blithe west wind; it harmed nobody on a hot day in summer.
At the Black Mere they had refloated the barge, buried the dead in
defiance of all crowners, and cleansed the hall. Some lover-sense had
made blunt Cavendish order the place to be strewn with fresh herbs and
flowers, and Isoult had smiled when she had seen these men of the sword
at their labours.
So Fulk, Knollys, and Father Hilarius were ferried over, and Isoult met
them at the water’s edge. She was a splendour that morning, and the
shine of her lit a light in men’s eyes.
Knollys was a little boisterous and exultant.
“Madame Isoult, we have brought back knighthood and a shipload of fine
plunder, not to speak of that very great saint and cenobite, Father
Hilarius.”
Father Hilarius bobbed and looked sly.
“Daughter, I am the most timid of men. Sir Robert here is a terrible
fellow! I was his chaplain in France. Ahem! I will say no more.”
They left Fulk and Isoult together, and that togetherness of theirs
ended in the orchard, where Knollys, Cavendish, and Father Hilarius set
the seal to a great adventure. The priest smacked his lips over it, and
was ready to wink at a man who was married with his head in an iron pot.
Knollys made a feast for them in the hall, and when they had feasted
Isoult brought her lute and sang them songs. And Father Hilarius
extended his toes in an ecstasy, and drank more wine.
“Surely never was such a voice heard in heaven! My son, you will grow
into an angel.”
Knollys chuckled.
“A devil of an angel with a coal-black beard! Isoult, would it please
you to be married to an angel?”
She laughed and looked at Fulk.
“I would sooner have the man.”
Which saying Father Hilarius took to be a most excellent and subtle
jest, for he spread himself and exulted.
* * * * *
PRINTED BY CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE, LONDON, E.C.
* * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Misspelled words and printer's errors have been corrected.
Inconsistency in hyphenation has been retained.
Inconsistency in accents has been retained.