Well, as to my tale of Agatha.
When the lord came home first, he sent for her, and his rage had
so mastered his fear for a while that his best word was scourge
and rack and faggot; but she was, outwardly, so calm and cold,
smiling on him balefully, that he presently came to himself, a found
that fear was in his belly, and that he might not do what he would
with her; wherefore he looked to it that however she were used
(which was ill enough, God wot!) she should keep the soul in her body.
And at last the fear so mounted into his head that he made
peace with her, and even craved forgiveness of her and gave
her gifts. She answered him sweetly indeed, yet so as he
(and all others who were bystanding, of whom I was one,)
might well see that she deemed she owed him a day in harvest.
As for me, he heeded me naught, and I lay low all I might.
And in any wise we wore the time till the great day of deliverance."
Therewith dropped the talk about Agatha, when they had bidden him all luck
in his life. Forsooth, they were fain of his words, and of his ways withal.
For he was a valiant man, and brisk, and one who forgat no benefit, and was
trusty as steel; merry-hearted withal, and kind and ready of speech despite
his uplandish manners, which a life not a little rude had thrust on him.
CHAPTER 7
Of Their Riding the Waste, and of a Battle Thereon
They slept in no house that night nor for many nights after;
for they were now fairly on the waste.
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