Not only so, but the same day she left the Dark Tower with her brother
Count Eustace, and rode towards Gisors and Saint-Pol-la-Marche. Nothing
she could do could be shamefully done, because of her silence, and the
high head upon which she carried it; yet the Count of Saint-Pol, when he
heard her story, sitting bulky in his chair (like a stalled red bull),
did his best to put shame upon her, that so he might cover his own
bitterness. It was Eustace, a generous ardent youth in those days, who
saved her from most of Eudo's wrath by drawing it upon himself.

The Count of Saint-Pol swore a great oath.

'By the teeth of God, Jehane,' he roared, 'I see how it is. He hath made
thee a piece of ruin, and now runs wasting elsewhere.'

'You shall never say that of my sister, my lord,' cries Eustace, very
red in the face, 'nor yet of the greatest knight in the world.'

'Why, you egg,' says the Count, 'what have you to do in this? Tell me
the rights of it before you put me in the wrong. Is my house to be the
sport of Anjou? Is that long son of pirates and the devil to batten on
our pastures, tread underfoot, bruise and blacken, rout as he will,
break hedge and away? By my father's soul, Eustace, I shall see her
righted.' He turned to the still girl. 'You tell me that you sent him
away? Where did you send him? Where did he go?'

'He went to the King of England at Louviers, and to the camp,' said
Jehane. 'The King sent for him. I sent him not.'

'Who is there beside the King of England?'