he wayfarers' ears as each band rode its way.

CHAPTER 12

The Roads Sunder Again

Ralph and Ursula, with the Sage and Michael-a-dale went their ways, and
all was smooth with them, and they saw but few folk, and those mild and
lowly. At last, of an afternoon, they saw before them afar off the
towers and pinnacles of Whitwall, and Ralph's heart rose within him, so
that he scarce knew how to contain himself; but Ursula was shy and
silent, and her colour came and went, as though some fear had hold of
her. Now they two were riding on somewhat ahead of the others, so
Ralph turned to Ursula, and asked what ailed her. She smiled on him
and said: "A simple sickness. I am drawing nigh to thy home, and I am
ashamed. Beyond the mountains, who knew what and whence I was? I was
fair, and for a woman not unvaliant, and that was enough. But now when
I am coming amongst the baronages and the lineages, what shall I do to
hold up my head before the fools and the dastards of these high
kindreds? And that all the more, my knight, because thou art changed
since yester-year, and since we met on the want-way of the Wood
Perilous, when I bade thee remember that thou wert a King's son and I a
yeoman's daughter; for then thou wert but a lad, high-born and
beautiful, but simple maybe, and untried; whereas now thou art meet to
sit in the Kaiser's throne and rule the world from the Holy City."

He laughed gaily and said: "What! is it all so soon forgotten, our
deeds beyond the Mountains? Belike because we had no minstrel to rhyme
it for us. Or is it all but a dream? and has the last pass of the
mountains changed all that for us? What then! hast thou never become
my beloved, nor lain in one bed with me? Thou whom I looked to deliver
from the shame and the torment of Utterbol, never didst thou free
thyself without my helping, and meet me in the dark wood, and lead me
to the Sage who rideth yonder behind us! No, nor didst thou ride
fearless with me, leaving the world behind; nor didst thou comfort me
when my heart went nigh to breaking in the wilderness! Nor thee did I
deliver as I saw thee running naked from the jaws of death. Nor were
we wedded in the wilderness far from our own folk. Nor didst thou
deliver me from the venom of the Dry Tree. Yea verily, nor did we
drink together of the Water of the Well! It is all but tales of
Swevenham, a blue vapour hanging on the mountains yonder! So be it
then! And here we ride tog