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Updated: June 14, 2025
Then the hermit laid his hands upon Beltane's golden head and blessed him, and whispered awhile in passionate prayer. Thereafter Beltane arose and, together, they came out into the sunshine. "South and by west must you march, dear son, and God, methinks, shall go beside thee, for thy feet shall tread a path where Death shall lie in wait for thee.
Now here, thinketh the historian, it booteth not to tell of all those minor haps and chances that befell them; how, despite all Beltane's wood-craft, they went astray full oft by reason of fordless rivers and quaking swamps: of how they snared game to their sustenance, or how, for all the care and skill of Sir Fidelis, Beltane's wound healed not, by reason of continual riding, for that each day he grew more restless and eager for knowledge of Belsaye, so that, because of his wound he knew small rest by day and a fevered sleep by night yet, despite all, his love for Fidelis daily waxed and grew, what time he pressed on through the wild country, north-westerly.
"Go to, my tender youth," said he, "methinks a lute were better fitted to thy hand than that great sword o' thine." Now beholding Beltane's gloomy face, he smiled within his hand, yet eyed him thoughtfully thereafter, and so they went with never a word betwixt them. But, in a while, the archer fell to snuffing the air, and clapped Beltane upon the shoulder.
"Sir," said the woman, peering up in Beltane's face, "Lord ah, would ye mock the weak and helpless " "Nay," said Beltane gently, "as God seeth me, to-night the prisoners shall go free, or this man and I die with them.
Very still she stood, nor spake nor moved, save for the sweet hurry of her breathing; and beholding her thus, of a sudden Beltane's heart leapt and he fell a-trembling though wherefore he knew not, only yearned he mightily to look beneath her veil.
Now here Giles the Archer turned and stared upon Beltane with jaws agape, and fain he would have questioned further, but Beltane's gloomy brow forbade; yet oft he looked askance at that golden head, and oft he sighed and shook his own, what time they marched out of the golden glare of morning into the dense green depths of the forest.
The long blades whirled and flashed and rang upon the stillness; and ever, as they fought, the stranger smiled his wry smile, mocking and gibing at him, whereat Beltane's mouth grew the grimmer and his blows the heavier, yet wherever he struck, there already was the stranger's blade to meet him, whereat the stranger laughed fierce and loud, taunting him on this wise: "How now, thou dauber of colours, betake thee to thy little brush, belike it shall serve thee better!
Now when Roger was gone, Sir Benedict arose and setting his hands on Beltane's shoulders questioned him full serious: "Mean ye forsooth to make the forests free, Beltane?" "Aye, verily, Benedict." "This shall cause much discontent among the lords " "Well, we wear swords, Benedict! But this I swear, whiles I am Duke, never again shall a man hang for killing of my deer.
But she had but two sorry silver pieces and pardons be costly things, and when she could get no pardon, she went home and that night killed herself silly wench! Ha! my lord good messire my arm holy saints! 'twill break!" "Killed herself and for lack of thy pitiful, accursed pardon! Heard you aught else in Belsaye speak!" and Beltane's cruel grip tightened.
Now went they in silence again for that Beltane dreamed of many things while Roger marvelled within himself, oft turning to look on my Beltane's radiant face, while ever his wonder grew; so oft did he turn thus to gape and stare that Beltane, chancing to meet his look, smiled and questioned him, thus: "Why gape ye on me so, Roger man?" "For wonder, master." "Wherefore?"
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