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Updated: August 10, 2024
"Why, master " quoth he, pushing back his mail-coif to rumple his black hair, "why, master, you you be early abroad though forsooth 'tis a fair morning and " "Roger," quoth Beltane, looking round upon a fair garden a-bloom with flowers, "Roger, where is the Duchess Helen?" "Ha, so ye do know, master who hath discovered it ?" "Where is she, Roger?"
Then from out of a band of horsemen came Harald, and he was covered all over with a great scarlet cloth as before, put on over the head, and flowing all about his horse, but rent with the fight. He put off his helm and drew back his mail-coif, then took a trumpet from the hand of a herald and blew strongly.
To him went Roger to shake him into groaning wakefulness and to point with eager finger to Beltane. Whereat up sprang Giles and came running with hands outstretched in welcome, yet of a sudden, paused and stood staring upon Beltane, as did the others also, for the place was very bright and moreover Beltane's mail-coif was fallen back. So they looked on him all three, yet spake no word.
And here behold my yellow hair!" and off came bascinet, and back fell mail-coif, whereat the Bailiff started and caught his breath and stared on Beltane in sudden awe. "Dost mark me well, Pardoner?" "Aye, noble sir, verily and in truth do I. So, next time I think on thee thou wilt be a squat man, middle-aged and black-haired. For, my lord, a poor Pardoner I, but nought beside."
Thus in a while Beltane arose to find his leg very stiff and sore, and his throat be parched with feverish thirst; wherefore, limping painfully, he turned where a little water-brook went singing o'er pebbly bed to join the slow-moving river; but, putting aside the leaves, he paused of a sudden, for there, beside the noisy streamlet he beheld Sir Fidelis, his bascinet upon the grass beside him, his mail-coif thrown back betwixt his shoulders, stooping to bathe his face in the sparkling water.
Now hereupon Giles fell to whistling, Walkyn to silence and Roger to scowling; oft looking back, jealous-eyed, to where Beltane rode a black war-horse, his mail-coif thrown back, his chin upon his breast, his eyes gloomy and wistful; and as often as he looked, Roger sighed amain. Whereat at last the archer cried: "Good lack, Roger, and wherefore puff ye so? Why glower ye, man, and snort?"
Wondering, but nothing speaking, Beltane laid by his bascinet, threw back his mail-coif, and bent above her low and lower, until she might reach up and touch those golden curls with failing hand. "Lord Beltane! boy!" she whispered, "stoop lower, mine eyes fail. Hearken, O my heart!
So presently, as Beltane descended the stair, he heard the archer break forth again in doleful song. Across the wide market-square went Beltane, with brow o'ercast and head low-bowed until he came to one of the many doors of the great minster; there paused he to remove bascinet and mail-coif, and thus bareheaded, entered the cathedral's echoing dimness.
A comely maid, supple and strong, who ever as she strove 'gainst the clutching hands that held her, kept her blazing eyes turned upon one in knightly mail who sat upon a great war-horse hard by, watching her, big chin in big mailed fist, and with wide lips up-curling in a smile: a strong man this, heavy and broad of chest; his casque hung at his saddle-bow, and his mail-coif, thrown back upon his wide shoulders, showed his thick, red hair that fell a-down, framing his square-set, rugged face.
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