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“She cannot be left yonder,” he said.

Aymery still looked at the beech wood, head thrown back, grey eyes a-glitter.

“We must take cover and watch. They will be here soon, and we shall see. To-night, I will take her away.”

A gleam of spears showed in the valley, and Aymery rode off to the nearest wood with Grimbald holding to his stirrups. They saw Gaillard and his men come over the fields to Goldspur village, and Denise was not with them. Aymery’s eyes made sure of that. The Gascon found nothing but the empty hovels, the untroubled sparrows, and a black cock crowing and scratching on a dunghill. One of Gaillard’s men fitted an arrow to the string, shot the black cock through the body, and laughed at the way the bird tumbled and flapped in the death agony.

“Brother Barnabo may find use for him,” said someone, and there was a laugh.

“He will wake him before daylight,” quoth another. “Such birds are useful to gallant clerks.”

Goldspur village did not go up in smoke that morning, for Gaillard, cunning as a fox, did not always run straight for the game in view.