CHAPTER XV
When Gilbert learned from his man that Beatrix was badly hurt and
suffering great pain, he turned his face away and bit hard on the
saddle-bag that served him for a pillow. It was late in the afternoon,
and Dunstan had just come back from making inquiries in the ladies'
lines, half a mile away.
Nothing could have been simpler than his round tent, which had a single
pole and covered a circle four or five paces in diameter. The dry
ground had been sprinkled with water and beaten with mallets so as to
harden it as much as possible. Gilbert and his two men slept on smoke-
cured hides over which heavy woollen blankets were spread, almost as
thick as carpets, hand-woven in rough designs of vivid blue and red,
the coarse work of shepherds of Auvergne, but highly valued.
Against the pole the saddles were piled one upon another, Gilbert's own
on top, with its curved pommels; Dunstan's, covered with plaited lines
for binding on rolled blankets and all sorts of light packages and
saddle-bags before and behind the rider's seat; and the mule's pack-
saddle, on which little Alric rode, perched upon the close-bound
bundles, when the road was fair. During most of the journey the sturdy
Saxon had trudged along on foot, as Dunstan did also, but it was not
seemly that a man of gentle blood should be seen walking on the march,
except of great necessity.
Above the saddles Gilbert's mail hung by the neck, with a stout staff
run through both arms to stretch it out, lest dampness should rust it;
also his other armour and his sword were fastened up like an ancient
trophy, with bridles and leathern bottles and other gear.
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