Her eyes met Eleanor's and lightened in sympathy of thought, so that
the other understood in a flash. The Queen's right hand went up,
lifting the lance high in air; half wheeling to the left, and turning
her head still farther, she called out to those behind her:--
"Ladies of France! The rabble is at the King--Forward!"
An instant later, the fleet Arab mare was galloping straight for the
crowd, and Eleanor did not look behind her again, but held her lance
before her and a little raised, so that it was just ready to fall into
rest. Directly behind her rode the Lady Anne, the shaft of the standard
in the socket of her stirrup, her arm run through the thong, so that
she had both hands free; she sat erect in the saddle, her horse already
at a racing gallop, neck out, eyes up, red nostrils wide, delighting in
being free from restraint; and Beatrix was there, too, like a feather
on her big brown Hungarian, that thundered along like a storm, his
wicked ears laid straight back, and his yellowish young teeth showing
under his quivering lip. But of all the three hundred ladies none
followed them. The others had not understood the Queen's command, or
had not heard, or could not manage their horses, or were afraid. And
the three women rode at the mob, that was now four hundred yards away.
Straight they rode, heedless and unaware that they were alone, nor
counting how little three women could do against thousands. But the
people heard the hammering hoofs of the two big horses, and the Arab's
light footfall resounded quickly and steadily, as the fingers of a
dancer striking the tambourine.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226