PublicBookshelf Book Club
Maurice Henry Hewlett
Weekly tips on great novels to read.
On the morning after the storm at Goltres, July 18, Galors sat in the
hall of his stronghold habited as he had ridden in but a few hours
before. In came a red-haired peasant, asking to be made his man.
"Why so, fellow?" asked Galors.
"Lording," said Falve, "because my mother hath done me a wrong."
"Why, thou dog?" cried Galors. "Would'st thou cut thy mother's throat
under my flag?"
"Lording," Falve answered, "I would not cut my mother's throat under
the Pope's flag. But I know thee to be a great lord, master of all
these walks of Morgraunt. If I were made free of thy company I could
ask thee a mercy; and if I asked thee a mercy it would be that thou
should'st order my mother to give me back my wife."
"How, thy wife, rogue?" said Galors, who was weary of the man.
"Lording, she was to have been my wife this day. But she lay last
night with my mother, and by the show of a certain token, which
unknown to me she wore about her, prevailed upon my mother to let her
go. So now she has escaped into the forest, and I am beggared of her
without thy help."
By this Galors was awake. He leaned forward in his chair, put chin to
hand, and asked quietly--"How was she called, this wife of thine, my
"Lording," replied the poor eager rogue, "she was a boy at first,
called Roy; then she revealed herself a maiden."