that I could walk about the streets of the foemen safely,
who had been but just led thitherward to the slaughter.
Thou knowest how I sped therein. But when I came back again
to our people, after thou hadst ridden away from us with Roger,
I heard these tidings, that there was one new-come into
our prison, a woman to wit, who had been haled before our old
Queen for a spy and doomed by her, and should be taken forth
and slain, belike, in a day or two. So I said to myself that I
was not free of my vow as yet, because those friends of mine,
I should in any case have done my best to deliver them:
therefore I deemed my oath bound me to set that woman free.
So in the night-tide when all was quiet I went to the prison
and brought her forth, and led her past all the gates and wards,
which was an easy thing to me, so much as I had learned,
and came with her into the fields betwixt the thorp of
Hampton and the wood, when it was more daylight than dawn,
so that I could see her clearly, and no word as yet
had we spoken to each other. But then she said to me:
'Am I to be slain here or led to a crueller prison?' And I said:
'Neither one thing nor the other: for lo! I have set thee free,
and I shall look to it that there shall be no pursuit of thee
till thou hast had time to get clear away.' But she said:
'What thanks wilt thou have for this? Wherefore hast thou done it?'
And I said, 'It is because of the gladness I have gotten.'
Said she, 'And would that I might get gladness!'
So I asked her what was amiss now that she was free. She said:
'I have lost one thing that I loved, and found another and lost
it also.' So I said: 'Mightest thou not seek for the lost?'
She said, 'It is in this wood, but when I shall find it I
shall not have it.' 'It is love that thou art seeking,'