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The Tenson
by
Anon there came to him an apple-cheeked boy, habited as a page, who, riding jauntily through the forest, lighted upon the Prince, now in bottomless vexation. The lad drew rein, and his lips outlined a whistle. At his feet were several dead men in a very untidy condition. And seated among them, as throned upon the boulder, was a gigantic and florid person, so tall that the heads of few people reached to his shoulder; a person of handsome exterior, blond, and chested like a stallion, whose left eyebrow drooped so oddly that even in anger the stupendous man appeared to assure you, quite confidentially, that the dilapidation he threatened was an excellent jest.
“Fair friend,” said the page. “God give you joy! and why have you converted this forest into a shambles?”
The Prince told him of the half-hour’s action as has been narrated. “I have perhaps been rather hasty,” he considered by way of peroration, “and it vexes me that I did not spare, say, one of these lank Spaniards, if only long enough to ascertain why, in the name of Termagaunt, they should have desired my destruction.”
But midway in his talc the boy had dismounted with a gasp, and he was now inspecting the features of one carcass. “Felons, my Prince! You have slain some eight yards of felony which might have cheated the gallows had they got the Princess Ellinor safe to Burgos. Only two days ago this chalk-eyed fellow conveyed to her a letter.”
Prince Edward said, “You appear, lad, to be somewhat over heels in the confidence of my wife.”
Now the boy arose and defiantly flung back his head in shrill laughter. “Your wife! Oh, God ha’ mercy! Your wife, and for ten years left to her own devices! Why, look you, to-day you and your wife would not know each other were you twain brought face to face.”
Prince Edward said, “That is very near the truth.” But, indeed, it was the absolute truth, and as concerned himself already attested.
“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 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!” he cried, in a new voice.
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 equity demands I on arrival slay de Gatinais and fetch back my wife to England.”
The page wrung exquisite hands with a gesture which was but partially tinged with anguish and presently began to laugh. Afterward these two rode southerly, in the direction of Castile.
For it appeared to the intriguing little woman a diverting jest that in this fashion her husband should be the promoter of her evasion. It appeared to her more diverting when in two days’ space she had become genuinely fond of him. She found him rather slow of comprehension, and was namelessly humiliated by the discovery that not an eyelash of the man was irritated by his wife’s decampment; he considered, to all appearances, that some property of his had been stolen, and he intended, quite without passion, to repossess himself of it, after, of course, punishing the thief.