Read "The Seven Streams" by Warwick Deeping online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
Seven days had passed, and Tristan was still lodged under Rosamunde's roof. Of his sister Columbe he had won no word, yet he tarried in Joyous Vale in Rosamunde's service. The woman had need of a loyal sword. Tristan had learnt to serve her there with the quick instinct of a great-hearted dog. There was much of the mother in her mood towards the man; nor did she dower his face with any deeper passion.
Shadows had deepened round Joyous Vale, and vague rumours had come from the south, whisperings of sword and torch and the march of armed men. A shepherd had seen dim sails upon the sea. As to what summer would bring to them, prophecy stood silent. Rosamunde's state was no easy one, as Tristan had gathered, for she was watched and spied upon by her husband's men. Ronan's jealousy was as a snake coiled in the grass, ready to dart and flesh its fangs. She could no more trust him than she could trust a priest. Moreover, his malice hindered her cause, barred her from plotting to save her people. Samson alone could help her in this, and Ronan's jealousy kept the two apart.