haste to reach England, where
he had that that called for him, he had ridden through the town of
Ardres at nightfall, being minded to ride his horse dead, reach Calais
gates in the hour, and beat down the gate if the warder would not
suffer him to enter, it being dark. But outside the town of Ardres
upon a make of no man's ground, being neither French nor English, he
had espied a hut, and in the dark hut a lighted window hole that
sparkled bravely, and, within, a big, fair woman drinking wine between
candles with the light in her hair and a white tablecloth. And,
feeling goodly, and Calais gate being shut, whether he broke it down
one hour or three hours later was all one to him. He had gone into the
hut to take by force or for payment a glass of wine from the black
jacks, a kiss from the woman's mouth, and what else of ease the place
afforded.

'Now I will have you mark, cub,' he said--'cub that shall have to
learn many wiles if thy throat be not cut by me within the next two
hours. Mark this, cub: these were no Egyptians!' They were not
Bohemians, not swearers, not subtle cozeners, not even black a-vised,
or he would have been on his guard against them; but they were plain,
fair folks of Normandy. So he had drunk his wine, and cast a main or
two at dice with the woman and two men, losing no more and no less
than was decent. And he had drunk more wine and had taken his
kisses--since it was all one whether he came three hours or four hours
later to Calais gate. And there had been candles on the table and
stuffs upon the wall, and a crock on the fire for mulling the wine,
and a sheet upon the feather bed. But when he awoke in the morning he
had lain upon the hard earth, between the bare walls. And all that was
his was gone that was worth the taking.

'Now mark, cub,' he said. 'It was a simple thing this flitting with
the hangings and the clothes and the pot rolled in bales and hung upon
my horse. Upon my horse! But what is not simple is that simple folk of
Normandy should have learned the arts of subtlety and drugging of
wines. Mark that!' He pointed a finger at Poins.

'Had God been good to you you might have been as good a warring boy as
Thomas Culpepper, who with the shadow of his hand held back the
galleons of France and France's knights from the goodly realm of
England. For this I have done by frighting from Paris, Cardinal Pole
that was moving the French King to war on us. Had God been good to you
you might hav