of fealty, Sholto MacKim turned on his heel and went away towards the
fords of Thrieve, muttering to himself, "No, she does not mean it, I
do believe. But I have ever heard that of all women she who never
means it is the most dangerous."

And this is a dict which no wise man can gainsay.




CHAPTER XIII

A DAUNTING SUMMONS


Not far before them had ridden the Earl and the Lady Sybilla. Behind
these two came the Marshal de Retz and the fat Lord of Avondale. They
were telling each other tales of the wars of La Pucelle, the latter
laughing and shaking shoulders, but at the end of every side-splitting
legend the Frenchman would glance over his shoulder at Maud Lindesay
and the little maiden Margaret.

As Sholto passed them on his return he stood aside, poised at the
salute, looking meanwhile with awe on the great and notable French
soldier. Yet at the first glimpse of his unvisored face there fell
upon the young man a dislike so fierce and instinctive that he grasped
his bow and fumbled in his quiver for an arrow, in order to send it
through the unlaced joints of the Marshal's gorget, which for ease's
sake his squire had undone when they left the field.