"Burned!--and wherefore?"

"Lord Pertolepe fell out with his neighbour Sir Gilles of Brandonmere-- upon the matter of some wench, methinks it was--wherefore came Sir Gilles' men by night and burned down Shallowford with twenty hunting dogs of Sir Pertolepe's that chanced to be there: whereupon my lord waxed mighty wroth and, gathering his company, came into the demesne of Sir Gilles and burned down divers manors and hung certain rogues and destroyed two villages--in quittance."

"Ah--and what of the village folk?"

"My lord, they were but serfs for the most part, but--for Sir Pertolepe's dogs--twenty and two--and roasted alive, poor beasts!"

But here Black Roger checked both speech and stride, all at once, and stood with quarter-staff poised as from the depth of the wood came the sound of voices and fierce laughter.

"Come away, master," he whispered, "these should be Sir Pertolepe's men, methinks."

But Beltane shook his head:

"I'm fain to see why they laugh," said he, and speaking, stole forward soft-footed amid the shadows; and so presently parting the leaves, looked down into an open dell or dingle full of the light of the rising moon; light that glinted upon the steel caps and hauberks of some score men, who leaned upon pike or gisarm about one who sat upon a fallen tree--and Beltane saw that this was Giles the Bowman. But the arms of Giles were bound behind his back, about his neck hung a noose, and his face showed white and pallid 'neath the moon, as, lifting up his head, he began to sing:

"O ne'er shall my l.u.s.t for the bowl decline, Nor my love for my good long bow; For as bow to the shaft and as bowl to the wine, Is a--"

The rich voice was strangled to a gasping sob as the rope was tightened suddenly about the singer's brawny throat and he was swung, kicking, into the air amid the hoa.r.s.e gibes and laughter of the men-at-arms.

But, grim and silent, Beltane leaped down among them, his long blade glittering in the moonlight, and before the mighty sweep of it they fell back, crowding upon each other and confused; then Beltane, turning, cut asunder the cord and Giles Brabblecombe fell and lay 'neath the shade of the tree, wheezing and whimpering in the gra.s.s.

And now with a clamour of cries and fierce rallying shouts, the men-at-arms, seeing Beltane stand alone, set themselves in array and began to close in upon him. But Beltane, facing them in the tender moonlight, set the point of his sword to earth and reached out his mailed hand in salutation.

"Greeting, brothers!" said he, "why seek ye the death of this our brother? Come now, suffer him to go his ways in peace, and G.o.d's blessing on ye, one and all."

Now at this some laughed and some growled, and one stood forth before his fellows staring upon Beltane 'neath close-drawn, grizzled brows:

"'Tis a rogue, and shall dance for us upon a string!" laughed he.

"And this tall fellow with him!" said another.

"Aye, aye, let us hang 'em together," cried others.

"Stay!" said Beltane, "behold here money; so now will I ransom this man's life of ye. Here be two pieces of gold, 'tis my all--yet take them and yield me his life!"

Hereupon the men fell to muttering together doubtfully, but in this moment the grizzled man of a sudden raised a knotted fist and shook it in the air.

"Ha!" cried he, pointing to Beltane, "look ye, Cuthbert, Rollo--see ye not 'tis him we seek? Mark ye the size of him, his long sword and belt of silver--'tis he that came upon us in the green this day and slew our comrade Michael. Come now, let us hang him forthwith and share his money betwixt us after."

Then my Beltane sighed amain, and sighing, unsheathed his dagger.

"Alas!" said he, "and must we shed each other's blood forsooth? Come then, let us slay each other, and may Christ have pity on our souls!"

Thus saying, he glanced up at the pale splendour of the moon, and round him on the encircling shadows of the woods dense and black beneath the myriad leaves, and so, quick-eyed and poised for action, waited for the rush.

And, even as they came upon him, he sprang aside where the gloom lay blackest, and they being many and the clearing small, they hampered each other and fell into confusion; and, in that moment, Beltane leapt among them and smote, and smote again, now in the moonlight, now in shadow; leaping quick-footed from the thrust of sword and pike, crouching 'neath the heavy swing of axe and gisarm; and ever his terrible blade darted with deadly point or fell with deep-biting edge.

Hands gripped at him from the gloom, arms strove to clasp him, but his dagger-hand was swift and strong. Pike heads leapt at him and were smitten away, axe and gisarm struck, yet found him not, and ever, as he leapt, he smote. And now in his ears were cries and groans and other hateful sounds, and to his nostrils came a reek of sweating flesh and the scent of trampled gra.s.s; while the moon's tender light showed faces wild and fierce, that came and went, now here--now there; it glinted on head-piece and ringed mail, and flashed back from whirling steel--a round, placid moon that seemed, all at once, to burst asunder and vanish, smitten into nothingness. He was down--beaten to his knee, deafened and half blind, but struggling to his feet he staggered out from the friendly shadow of the trees, out into the open. A sword, hard-driven, bent and snapped short upon his triple mail, the blow of a gisarm half stunned him, a goring pike-thrust drove him reeling back, yet, ringed in by death, he thrust and smote with failing arm. Axe and pike, sword and gisarm hedged him in nearer and nearer, his sword grew suddenly heavy and beyond his strength to wield, but stumbling, slipping, dazed and with eyes a-swim, he raised the great blade aloft, and lifting drooping head, cried aloud the battle-cry of his house-- high and clear it rang above the din:

"Arise! Arise! I will arise!"

And even in that moment came one in answer to the cry, one that leapt to his right hand, a wild man and hairy who plied a gleaming axe and, 'twixt each stroke, seemed, from hairy throat, to echo back the cry:

"Arise! Arise!"

And now upon his left was Black Roger, fierce-eyed behind his buckler.

Thereafter a voice hailed them as from far away, a sweet, deep voice, cheery and familiar as one heard aforetime in a dream, and betwixt every sentence came the tw.a.n.g of swift-drawn bow-string.

"O tall brother, fall back! O gentle paladin, O fair flower of l.u.s.ty fighters, fall back and leave the rest to our comrades, to me and my good bow, here!"

So, dazed and breathless, came Beltane on stumbling feet and leaned him gasping in the shadow of a great tree whereby stood Giles o' the Bow with arrows planted upright in the sod before him, the which he s.n.a.t.c.hed and loosed so fast 'twas a wonder to behold. Of a sudden he uttered a shout and, setting by his bow, drew sword, and leaping from the shadow, was gone.

But, as for Beltane, he leaned a while against the tree as one who is very faint; yet soon, lifting heavy head, wondered at the hush of all things, and looking toward the clearing saw it empty and himself alone; therefore turned he thitherwards. Now as he went he stumbled and his foot struck a something soft and yielding that rolled before him in the shadow out--out into the full brilliance of the moon, and looking down, he beheld a mangled head that stared up at him wide-eyed and with mouth agape. Then Beltane let fall his reeking sword and staggering out into the light, saw his bright mail befouled with clotted blood, and of a sudden the world went black about him and he fell and lay with his face among the trampled gra.s.s.

In a while he groaned and opened his eyes to find Black Roger bathing his face what time Giles o' the Bow held wine to his lips, while at his feet, a wild figure grim and ragged, stood a tall, hairy man leaning upon a blood-stained axe.

"Aha!" cried the bowman. "Come now, my lovely fighter, my gentle giant, sup this--'tis life, and here behold a venison steak fit for Duke Ivo's self, come--"

"Nay, first," says Beltane, sitting up, "are there many hurt?"

"Aye, never fear for that, my blood-thirsty dove, they be all most completely dead save one, and he sore wounded, _laus Deo, amen!_"

"Dead!" cried Beltane, shivering, "dead, say you?"

"Aye, Sir Paladin, all sweetly asleep in Abraham's bosom. We three here accounted for some few betwixt us, the rest fell 'neath that great blade o' thine. O sweet Saint Giles! ne'er saw I such sword-work--point and edge, sa-ha! And I called thee--dove!--aye 'dove' it was, I mind me. O blind and worse than blind! But _experientia docet_, tall brother!"

Now hereupon Beltane bowed his head and clasping his hands, wrung them.

"Sweet Jesu forgive me!" he cried, "I had not meant to slay so many!"

Then he arose and went apart and, kneeling among the shadows, prayed long and fervently.

CHAPTER XI

WHICH TELLS HOW THREE MIGHTY MEN SWARE FEALTY TO BELTANE: AND HOW GOOD FRIAR MARTIN DIGGED A GRAVE IN THE WILD

Now when Beltane's mighty hunger was a.s.suaged he sat--his aching head yet ringing with the blow--and stared up at the moon, sad and wistful-eyed as one full of heaviness the while Black Roger standing beside him gazed askance at the archer who sat near by whistling softly and busied with certain arrows, cleaning and tr.i.m.m.i.n.g them ere he set them back in his quiver. And presently Black Roger spake softly, low-stooping to Beltane's ear:

"Lord, we have saved the life of yon prating archer-fellow, and behold my belt lacketh for one notch, which is well. So come, let us go our ways, thou and I, for I love not your talkers, and this fellow hath overmuch to say."

But now, ere Beltane could make reply, came the hairy man--but behold his rags had given place to fair garments of tanned leather (albeit something small) together with steel cap and shirt of ringed mail, and, about his middle, a broad belt where swung a heavy sword; being come to Beltane he paused leaning upon his axe, and gazed upon him fierce-eyed:

"Messire," said he, "who ye are I know not, what ye are I care not, for art quick of foot and mighty of arm, and when ye fight, cry a point of war, a battle-shout I knew aforetime ere they enslaved and made of me a serf--and thus it is I would follow thee."

Quoth Beltane, his aching head upon his hand:

"Whither?"