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Updated: June 28, 2025
And whence come ye in such guise?" "Lord," says Ulf, wiping off his tears and choking upon a sob, "I came through Bloody Pertolepe's array." "Through? nay, how mean you?" questioned Beltane, the while Sir Benedict and many wondering knights and esquires pressed round them in a ring. "I mean through, lord, for Walkyn's need is dire.
Now, in hot haste, Sir Pertolepe launched another charge to check that furious onset, what time he reformed and strengthened his main battle; but, with speed unchecked, Sir Benedict's mighty ranks met them in full career broke them, flung them reeling back on Sir Pertolepe's staggering van and all was wild disorder, above which roaring tumult the Raven banner reeled and swayed and the fray waxed ever fiercer.
Now Sir Benedict's hurt had proved an evil one and deep, wherefore the Abbess, in accent soft and tender, had, incontinent, ordered him to bed, and there, within the silken tent that had been Sir Pertolepe's, Beltane oft sat by, the while she, with slim and dexterous fingers, washed and anointed and bound the ugly wound: many times came she, soft-treading, gentle and gracious ever; and at such times Beltane noticed that full often he would find her deep, sad gaze bent upon him; he noticed also that though her voice was low and gentle, yet she spake ever as one 'customed to obedience.
But of a sudden the clamour died to silence, and thereafter from a hundred throats a shout went up: "A Pertolepe! 'Tis Sir Pertolepe!" Now in this moment Beltane laid his dagger-hand about Sir Pertolepe's broad shoulders, and set the point of his dagger 'neath Sir Pertolepe's right ear. "Speak!" quoth Beltane softly, and his dagger-point bit deeper, "speak now as I commanded thee!"
"Walkyn, master, having slain Sir Pertolepe's horse yonder, followeth Pertolepe, minded straight to slay him also." "Yet dost thou remain, Roger." "Aye, lord; and here is that which thou wilt need again, methinks; I found it hard by Sir Pertolepe's dead horse." So saying, Roger put Beltane's great sword into his hand.
Then, O my lords, in all that fierce debate, who so brave and calm, heartening wearied and wounded with gentle voice and gentler hand, than this same noble lady Abbess! And, to save our lives, fain would this brave lady have yielded her to Pertolepe's hands. Whereat Pertolepe sware to hang us one and all and the battle joined again fiercer than before. The which was so agreed.
"But he sore wounded!" quoth Walkyn. "How!" cried the friar aghast, "have ye indeed slain Sir Pertolepe's foresters?" "Nineteen!" nodded Roger, grimly. "Alas!" cried the friar, "may God save the poor folk hereabouts, for now will Sir Pertolepe wreak vengeance dire upon them." "Then," said Beltane, "then must I have word with Sir Pertolepe."
"Dead, my father. Red Pertolepe's men slew them this day within the green. So, when I had buried them, I took my axe and left them with God: yet shall my soul go lonely, methinks, until my time be come."
Thine arms are strong, lord Beltane, and very gentle. How, dost grieve for a witch, lord for poor Jolette? Nay, comfort ye my life has been none so sweet I should dread to lose it." "How cometh this?" he questioned gently, on his knees beside her. "'Twas the Red Pertolepe's men nay, messire, they have but killed me. But O, my dear lord heed me well.
And now, as they advanced swift and steady, rose shouts from besieged and besiegers; Sir Pertolepe's trumpets brayed defiance and alarm, and of a sudden, forth of his camp mailed horsemen rode rank upon rank, pennons a-flutter and armour flashing in the sunset glare.
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