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As it chanced,
however, this morning my little Roland here was loosed at a
strong-winged heron, and page Bertrand and I rode on, with no
thoughts but for the sport, until we found ourselves in Minstead
woods. Small harm then, but that my horse Troubadour trod with a
tender foot upon a sharp stick, rearing and throwing me to the
ground. See to my gown, the third that I have befouled within
the week. Woe worth me when Agatha the tire-woman sets eyes upon
it!"
"And what then, lady?" asked Alleyne.
"Why, then away ran Troubadour, for belike I spurred him in
falling, and Bertrand rode after him as hard as hoofs could bear
him. When I rose there was the Socman himself by my side, with
the news that I was on his land, but with so many courteous words
besides, and such gallant bearing, that he prevailed upon me to
come to his house for shelter, there to wait until the page
return. By the grace of the Virgin and the help of my patron St.
Magdalen, I stopped short ere I reached his door, though, as you
saw, he strove to hale me up to it.


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