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Updated: June 14, 2025
Now as they strode along with ring and clash and the sound of voice and laughter, came Giles to walk at Beltane's stirrup; and oft he glanced back along the way and oft he sighed, a thing most rare in him; at last he spake, and dolefully: "Witchcraft is forsooth a deadly sin, tall brother?" "Verily, Giles, yet there be worse, methinks." "Worse! Ha, 'tis true, 'tis very true!" nodded the archer.
And now Beltane's breath grew short and thick, his strong hand trembled on the bridle, and he grew alternate hot and cold. So rode they into the echoing courtyard whither hasted old Godric to welcome them, and divers servants to take their horses.
Beltane's long scabbard struck the carven panelling, a soft blow that yet echoed and re-echoed in vaulted arch and dim roof, and, glancing swiftly up, Sir Benedict beheld him. And kneeling thus beside the grave of the woman he had loved, Sir Benedict looked up into Beltane's face with eyes wide, eyes unflinching but dimmed with great grief and pain.
Then took they Beltane's hand to kiss and thereafter up they sprang and went rejoicing to their company.
So saying, Sir Fidelis arose, and taking the wallet in one hand and setting the other 'neath Beltane's arm, led him to where, deep-bowered under screening willows, a fire burned cheerily, whereby were two beds of scented bracken.
"Come, thou forest rogue," said he, "my lord Duke loveth not to wait for man or maid, so have at thee!" Great he looked and tall as Beltane's self, a hairy man of mighty girth with muscles that swelled on arm and breast and rippled upon his back.
One told me thou wert down art well, sweet lad, and all unharmed? God is merciful!" And he patted Beltane's mailed shoulder, what time blood oozed from his steel gauntlet and his sobbing charger hung weary head and snorted purple foam. "O lad," quoth he, smiling his wry smile, "here was an hour worth living for though Sir Bertrand is sore hurt and many do lie dead of my company."
Thus then, this stranger dwelt the week with Beltane in the greenwood, teaching him, day by day, tricks of sword and much martial lore beside. And, day by day, a friendship waxed and grew betwixt them so that upon the seventh morning, as they broke their fast together, Beltane's heart was heavy and his look downcast; whereat the stranger spake him thus: "Whence thy dole, good youth?"
So came they to a handsome chamber hard by where was spread a goodly repast whereto they did full justice, though talking much the while, until one tapped lightly upon the door, and Roger entered bearing Beltane's new-burnished mail. "Nay, good Roger," said Beltane, smiling, "need for that is done methinks; we ride light to-day!" But Sir Benedict shook wise head.
Very soon they had stacked great piles of kindling about the gallows' weather-beaten timbers twigs below, faggots above cunningly ordered and higher than Beltane's head. Now as Beltane leaned upon his sword to wipe the sweat from his eyes, came Roger and Walkyn yet panting from their labour. "Master," said Roger, "they should burn well, I trow, and yet "
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