andered about for an hour or more, and stole
warily into the hall and thence into his own chamber. There he did off
that royal array, and did his own raiment upon him; he girt him with
sword and knife, took his bow and quiver, and stole down and out again,
even as he had come in. Then he fetched a compass, and came down into
the hazel-coppice from the north, and lay hidden there while the night
wore, till he deemed it would lack but little of midnight.

CHAPTER XXI: WALTER AND THE MAID FLEE FROM THE GOLDEN HOUSE

There he abode amidst the hazels, hearkening every littlest sound; and
the sounds were nought but the night voices of the wood, till suddenly
there burst forth from the house a great wailing cry. Walter's heart
came up into his mouth, but he had no time to do aught, for following
hard on the cry came the sound of light feet close to him, the boughs
were thrust aside, and there was come the Maid, and she but in her white
coat, and barefoot. And then first he felt the sweetness of her flesh on
his, for she caught him by the hand and said breathlessly: "Now, now!
there may yet be time, or even too much, it may be. For the saving of
breath ask me no questions, but come!"

He dallied not, but went as she led, and they were lightfoot, both of
them.

They went the same way, due south to wit, whereby he had gone a-hunting
with the Lady; and whiles they ran and whiles they walked; but so fast
they went, that by grey of the dawn they were come as far as that coppice
or thicket of the Lion; and still they hastened onward, and but little
had the Maid spoken, save here and there a word to hearten up Walter, and
here and there a shy word of endearment. At last the dawn grew into
early day, and as they came over the brow of a bent, they looked down
over a plain land whereas the trees grew scatter-meal, and beyond the
plain rose up the land into long green hills, and over those again were
blue mountains great and far away.

Then spake the Maid: "Over yonder lie the outlying mountains of the
Bears, and through them we needs must pass, to our great peril. Nay,
friend," she said, as he handled his sword-hilt, "it must be patience and
wisdom to bring us through, and not the fallow blade of one man, though
he be a good one. But look! below there runs a stream through the first
of the plain, and I see nought for it but we must now rest our bodies.
Moreover I have a tale to tell thee which is burning my heart; for