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Updated: May 8, 2025
Dawn was at hand, a glimmering mist wherein vague forms moved, what time Walkyn, looming ghostly and gigantic in the mist, mustered his silent, ghostly company ere, lifting his axe, he turned and vanished, his fifty phantoms at his heels.
Then came he to the fire and stood there, arms crossed, frowning down at the flame. "Greeting to thee, Waldron of Brand!" Swift turned Walkyn, his gloomy scowl relaxed at Beltane's voice, and stooping, he took and kissed my Beltane's hand. "Whence come ye, Walkyn?" "From going to and fro among the dead, seeking Pertolepe, master.
Let us then to another verse: "Walkyn a mighty axe did sway, Black Roger's sword some few did slay, Yet Giles slew many more than they, Dixit!" "Here now, we have each one his line apiece, which is fair and the lines trip it commendingly, how think ye?" "I think it a lie!" growled Roger. "Aye me!" sighed the archer, "thou'rt fasting, Rogerkin, and an empty belly ever giveth thee an ill tongue.
BELTANE. "Ha! and what of Walkyn?" ROGER. "He smiled, master, as I told thee ere this, and when Walkyn smileth it behoveth others to be wary.
So did these two youths face each other, smiling above their gleaming steel, and so the long blades rang together, and, thereafter, the air was full of a clashing din, in so much that Roger came running sword in hand, with Walkyn and Giles at his heels; but, seeing how matters stood, they sat them down on the sward, watching round-eyed and eager.
Thereafter he turned upon the three, but even as he did so, Walkyn uttered a fierce cry, and whirling about with axe aloft, sprang into the green, whence of a sudden rose a babel of voices, and the sound of fierce blows and, thereafter, the noise of pursuit.
"Then do I come also, master, since thy man am I." "I, too," nodded Walkyn, "come death and welcome, so I but stand face to face with Pertolepe." "Alack!" sighed Giles, "so needs must I come also, since I have twelve shafts yet unsped," and he swallowed the morsel of venison with mighty relish and gusto. Then laughed Beltane for very gladness, and he looked on each with kindling eye.
"On, then!" cried Walkyn, his glittering axe aloft. "To Garthlaxton!" Then from an hundred brawny throats a roar went up to heaven, a cry that hissed through clenched teeth and rang from eager lips, wilder, fiercer than before. And the cry was: "Garthlaxton!"
"To God!" cried Walkyn, his eyes wild, his hands tight-clenched, "to God! ha! master, ye left him to God on a time and because of thee, I I that had my dagger at his rogue's throat I, yearning to slay him, did but mark him i' the brow aye, forsooth, we left him to God and lo! to-day he burneth, he slayeth and hangeth as was ever his wont "
"Aye but he smiled, master! Walkyn, methinks, is not a jovial soul, lord, and when he smileth it behoveth others to frown and beware. So prithee eat hearty, lord, for, in a while the sun will stand above yon whin-bush, and then 'twill be the eleventh hour, and at the eleventh hour must I wash thy hurt and be-plaster it with this good ointment." "What then?"
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