She knew that the accusation was false, that it was too utterly
empty to have meaning for honest men; yet she despised her husband
merely because a madman could cast such a word at him; and in the
security of power and dominions far greater than his, as well as of a
popularity to which he could never attain, she looked upon him in her
heart as a contemptible kinglet, to marry whom had been her most
foolish mistake. And it had become the object of her life to put him
away if she could.
For a few moments she looked on across the sea of heads that had
already begun to move away. Her mare was quieter now in the larger
space, being a docile creature, but many of the other ladies' horses
were still plunging and kicking, though so crowded that they could do
each other little hurt. She saw how the knights were forcing their way
to the King's side, and how the great herd of footmen resisted them,
while the word of shame rose louder in their yells; and though she
despised the King, the fierce instinct of the great noble against the
rabble ran through her like a painful shock, and her face turned pale
as she felt her anger in her throat.
There was room now, for the great throng was rushing from her,
spreading like a river, and dividing at the hillock where it met the
knights' swords, and flowing to right and left along the edge of the
lake. The Queen looked behind her, to see what ladies were nearest to
her, and she saw her standard bearer, Anne of Auch, fighting her
rearing charger; and next to her, quiet and pale, on a vicious
Hungarian gelding a great deal too big for her, but which she seemed to
manage with extraordinary ease, sat Beatrix de Curboil, a small, slim
figure in a delicate mail that looked no stronger than a silver
fishing-net, her shape half hidden by her flowing mantle of soft olive-
green with its scarlet cross on the shoulder, and wearing a silver
dove's wing on her light steel cap.
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