"Sire Edward," the boy then said, "your wife has wearied of this long
waiting till you chose to whistle for her. Last summer the young Prince
de Gatinais came a-wooing--and he is a handsome man." The page made
known all which de Gatinais and King Alphonso planned, the words
jostling as they came in torrents, but so that one might understand. "I
am her page, my lord. I was to follow her. These fellows were to be my
escort, were to ward off possible pursuit. Cry haro, beau sire! Cry
haro, and shout it lustily, for your wife in company with six other
knaves is at large between here and Burgos,--that unreasonable wife who
grew dissatisfied after a mere ten years of neglect."
"I have been remiss," the Prince said, and one huge hand strained at his
chin; "yes, perhaps I have been remiss. Yet it had appeared to me--But
as it is, I bid you mount, my lad!"
The boy demanded, "And to what end?"
"Oy Dieus, messire! have I not slain your escort? Why, in common reason,
equity demands that I afford you my protection so far as Burgos,
messire, just as plainly as equity demands I slay de Gatinais and fetch
back my wife to England.
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