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For O my lord! yon poor blind man 'twas I at the Red Pertolepe's command 'twas I did burn out his eyes and cut off his hand 'twas I I Black Roger! O Saint Cuthbert! O sweet Jesu! So all unworthy am I to be thy man!" And now great sobs shook him, fierce sobs and bitter, and he writhed there in the dust, groaning in the agony of his remorse.

Now in a while they heard a sound, faint and confused: a hum, that presently grew to a murmur to a drone to a low wailing of voices, pierced of a sudden by a shrill cry no man's lips could utter, that swelled high upon the air and died, lost amid the growing clamour. "They've fired the ricks first!" panted Roger; "'tis ever Pertolepe's way!"

And my lord stabbed me so must I die of a nun, see you! Ah give me water!" "Where doth he ride this night, messire?" "His men few very weary Sir Pertolepe's men-at-arms caught us i' the sunken road Sir Gilles to Thornaby Mill beside the ford O God water!"

"Enough!" growled red-faced Roger, "Sir Pertolepe's foresters we be, give us yon scurvy fool then, that we may hang him out of hand." "Nay," answered Beltane, "first let us reason together, let us hark to the wisdom of Folly and grow wise " "Ha, Roger!" cried one of the men, "tap me this tall rogue on his golden mazzard!"

Then Beltane turned to see Giles o' the Bow, who leaned against a tree near by, wide-eyed and pale. "Look!" he cried, pointing with quivering finger, "one dead and one sore hurt Saint Giles save us, what have ye done? These be Sir Pertolepe's foresters behold his badge!" But Beltane laughed, fierce-eyed. "How, bowman, dost blench before a badge, then?

Howbeit I have dared supplicate on thy behalf and behold! thou art indeed thyself again that same sweet and gentle youth that smote me on my knavish mazzard with thy stout quarter-staff in Shevening Thicket in the matter of Beda, Red Pertolepe's fool a dour ding, yon, master forsooth, a woundy rap!"

Forward bounded the great horses a-down the slope away, away, gathering speed with every stride away, away, across the level with flying rein and busy spur; and now a loud shouting and dire amaze among Sir Pertolepe's battle with desperate wheeling of ranks and spurring of rearing horses, while Sir Benedict's riders swept down on them, grim and voiceless, fast and faster.

Forsooth, well do I know thee, Roger the Black: come ye into the glade yonder, so will I split thy black poll for thee thou surly dog!" Forth leapt Black Roger's sword, back swung Walkyn's glittering axe, but Beltane was between, and, as they stood thus came Giles o' the Bow: "Oho!" he laughed, "must ye be at it yet? Have we not together slain of Sir Pertolepe's foresters a round score?

I have viewed all the slain, but Pertolepe is not there, yet have I smitten and slain three Pertolepes this day hawks, see you, in eagle's feathers! So is my work yet to do, and I grieve still for Pertolepe's head." "Sit ye down, Walkyn, here with me beside the fire." Forthwith Walkyn obeyed and stretching himself on the grass fell to toying with the haft of his axe and scowling at the fire again.

"'Tis well!" sighed Beltane. "Well, master nay, how mean you?" "That being at Barham Broom, they cannot be otherwhere, Roger. Saw you Pertolepe's banner among all these?" "Aye, master; they have set up his pavilion beside the Duke's." "Tell me now," said Beltane, coming to his elbow, "how many men should be left within Garthlaxton for garrison, think you?" "An hundred, belike!" said Walkyn.