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"These honourable men shall bring you safe upon your way haste you to be gone. And should any ask how Garthlaxton fell, say, 'twas by the hand of God, as a sure and certain sign that Pentavalon shall yet arise to smite evil from her borders. Say also that he that spake you this was one Beltane, son of Beltane the Strong, heretofore Duke of Pentavalon."
Young men were these for the most part, yet were there many grizzled heads and wrinkled brows among them grim lords of the old Duke's following much versed in war, calm of judgment and wise in council; but one and all did they stare upon my Beltane in wonder at his youth because of his so famous deeds.
Then did my Beltane lift his head and saw how the colour was deepened in her cheek and how her tender eyes drooped before his. "Tell me," he said, "is there ever a woman to love such a man? Is there ever a woman who would leave the hum and glitter of cities to walk with such as I in the shadow of these forest-lands? Speak, Oh speak I do beseech thee!" Thus said he and stopped, waiting her answer.
But, as the esquire wheeled upon Beltane with sword uplifted, out from the green an arrow whistled, and Cuthbert, shrill-screaming, swayed in his saddle and thudded to earth, while his great war-horse, rearing affrighted, plunged among the men-at-arms, and all was shouting and confusion; while from amid the willows arrows whizzed and flew, 'neath whose cruel barbs horses snorted, stumbling and kicking, or crashed into the dust; and ever the confusion grew.
Then did Beltane the strong come nigh to fear, by reason of her fair womanhood, and looked from her to earth, from earth to sky, and, when he would have answered, fell a-stammering, abashed by her wondrous beauty.
A woman in her beauty is a fair thing to the eyes of a man, yet I tell thee Beltane, they be snares of the devil, setting father 'gainst son and brother 'gainst brother, whereby come unnatural murders and bloody wars." "And yet, needs must I love her still, my father!"
And day by day, with growing strength, so grew his doubt, and therewith, by times, a black despond; for needs must he think ever of Helen the Beautiful, and fain was he to tear her from his heart yet could not; then fain he would have hated her, but in his ears her cry rang still "God pity thee, my Beltane!" wherefore he was wont to fall to sudden gloom and melancholy.
And leaning thus, Beltane marked well where the sentinels lolled upon their pikes, or marched drowsily to and fro betwixt the watch-fires, and long he gazed where the horses were tethered, two swaying, trampling lines dim-seen amid the further shadows.
"Forsooth, and is it so?" growled Roger, his scowl relaxing "now will I eat full and blithely, for Ralpho was an arrant knave." Now when his hunger was somewhat assuaged, Roger turned and looked where Beltane lay. "My master sleepeth?" said he, his voice grown gentle. "Nay, Roger, I lie and wait thy news," spake Beltane, his eyes yet closed. "Why then, 'tis war, master battle and siege.
Looking about, Beltane saw the singer, a comely fellow whose long legs bestrode a plump ass; a lusty man he was, clad in shirt of mail and with a feather of green brooched to his escalloped hood; a long-bow hung at his back together with a quiver of arrows, while at his thigh swung a heavy, broad-bladed sword.
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