"Then will I die with thee, lord," growled Roger.

"So will I come and watch thee die--hangman, and loose a shaft or two on mine own account!"

But now, of a sudden, Walkyn raised a warning hand.

"Hark!" said he: and, in a while, as they listened, upon the stillness came a rustle of leaves and thereafter a creeping step drawing slowly nearer: then swift and soft-treading, Walkyn stole out into the shadows.

Very soon he returned, leading a woman, pale and haggard, who clasped a babe within her threadbare cloak; her eyes were red and sore with much weeping and upon the threshold she paused as one in sudden fear, but espying the friar, she uttered a cry:

"O Father Martin--good father--pray, pray for the soul of him who is father to my child, but who at dawn must die with many others upon my lord Duke's great gallows!"

"Alas!" cried the friar, wringing his hands, "what news is this?"

"O good friar," sobbed the woman, "my lord's hand hath been so heavy upon us of late--so heavy: and there came messengers from Thrasfordham in Bourne bidding us thither with fair promises:--and my father, being head of our village, hearkened to them and we made ready to cross into Bourne. But my lord came upon us and burned our village of Shallowford and lashed my father with whips and thereafter hanged him, and took my man and many others and cast them into the great dungeon at Belsaye-- and with the dawn they must hang upon the Duke's great gallows."

So she ended and stood weeping as one that is hopeless and weary. But of a sudden she screamed and pointed at Black Roger with her finger:

"'Tis Roger!" she cried, "'tis Black Roger, that slew my father!"

Then Roger the Black groaned and hid his face within his arm and shrank before the woman's outstretched finger and, groaning, cowered to his knees; whereupon the archer turned his back and spat upon the floor while Walkyn glared and fingered his great axe: but in this moment my Beltane came beside him and laid his hand on Roger's stooping shoulder.

"Nay," said he, "this is my friend henceforth, a man among men, who liveth to do great things as thus: To-night he will give back to thee the father of thy child, and break open the dungeon of Belsaye!"

Thus spake my Beltane while all stared at his saying and held their peace because of their amaze: only Black Roger turned of a sudden and caught his hand and kissed it savagely.

"Sir," said the woman, peering up in Beltane's face, "Lord--ah, would ye mock the weak and helpless--"

"Nay," said Beltane gently, "as G.o.d seeth me, to-night the prisoners shall go free, or this man and I die with them. So now be comforted--go you to Bourne, to Sir Benedict within Thrasfordham Keep, and say you come from Beltane, Duke of Pentavalon, who swore thee, by the honour of the Duke Beltane his father, that never again shall a man hang from the great gallows of Black Ivo the usurper--from this night it shall cease to be!"

Now would the woman have knelt and kissed his hand, but Beltane smiled and brought her to the door. Then, wondering and amazed, she made her obeisance to Beltane and with her babe clasped to her bosom went forth into the night. Thereafter Beltane turned and looked grave-eyed upon the three.

"My masters," quoth he, "ye have heard my words, how this night I go to take down Black Ivo's great gallows. Come ye with me? Aye or no?"

"Aye, lord!" cried the three in one acclaim.

"Do ye then stand with me henceforth 'gainst Black Ivo and all his might? Aye or no?"

"Aye, lord!" cried they again.

Then Beltane smiled and drew his sword and came to them, the great blade gleaming in his hand.

"'Tis well!" said he, "but first come now and lay your hands here upon my sword and swear me this, each one,--To follow ever where I shall lead, to abide henceforth in brotherhood together, to smite evil within you and without, to be pitiful to the weak, and to honour G.o.d at all times."

Then did the three, being upon their knees, lay their hands upon the sword and swear the oath as Beltane commanded; now came the white friar and stared upon the sword and beholding the motto graven in the steel, lifted up his hand to heaven and cried aloud:--

"Now greeting and fair greeting to thee, lord Duke, may thy body be strong for war and thy head wise in the council, for Pentavalon hath dire need of thee, Beltane, son of Duke Beltane the Strong. Moreover I was sent to thee by Sir Benedict of Bourne who bids thee 'Arise and follow' for that the time is at hand."

"How," cried Beltane, "art thou indeed from Sir Benedict?"

"Even so, lord. In Thrasfordham be seven hundred chosen men-at-arms, and within Bourne, mayhap a thousand more. It is become a haven for those that flee from tyranny and bitter wrong. As for me, I journey where I will within the Duchy, serving the poor and ministering to the broken-hearted, and everywhere is black sin and suffering and death. So now in the name of these oppressed do I give thee welcome to this thy sorrowful Duchy, and may G.o.d make of thee Duke indeed!"

Quoth Beltane:

"Duke am I in blood and Duke will I yet be in very sooth an G.o.d so will it." Then turning to the three, who stood hearkening open-mouthed and wide of eye, he smiled and reached to them his hand.

"Good friends," said he, "knowing nought of me yet were ye willing to follow my fortunes. For this do I thank ye one and all, and so shall my fortune, high or low, be thine, henceforth. To-day is Ivo Duke, and I thy companion-in-arms, no more, no less--this, I pray you all, remember."

So saying, Beltane sheathed his sword and beholding Friar Martin on his knees beside that m.u.f.fled figure, he knelt also, and the three with him. Thereafter at a sign from the friar, Beltane stooped and raised this slender, shrouded figure in his arms and reverently bore it out into the shadows.

And there, all in the tender radiance of the moon, they buried her whose name they never knew, and stood a while in silence. Then, pointing to the new-turned earth, Friar Martin spake soft-voiced:

"Lo, here--in but a little time, wild flowers shall bloom above her-- yet none purer or sweeter than she! In a little shall the gra.s.s be green again, and she sleep here forgot by all--save G.o.d! And G.o.d, my brothers, is a gentle G.o.d and very pitiful--so now do we leave her in G.o.d's abiding care."

And presently they turned, soft-footed, and went upon their way leaving the place to solitude.

But from the vault of heaven the stars looked down upon that lonely grave like the watching eyes of holy angels.

CHAPTER XII

WHICH TELLS HOW DUKE IVO'S GREAT GALLOWS CEASED TO BE

Scarce a mile without the walls of the fair city of Belsaye my lord Duke had builded him a great gallows, had set it high upon a hill for all the world to see; from whose lofty cross-beams five score rogues had hanged ere now, had writhed and kicked their lives away and rotted there in company, that all the world might know how potent was the anger of my lord Duke Ivo.

Day in, day out, from rosy morn till dewy eve, it frowned upon Belsaye, a thing of doom whose grim sight should warn rebellious townsfolk to dutiful submission; by night it loomed, a dim-seen, brooding horror, whose loathsome reek should mind them how all rogues must end that dared lift hand or voice against my lord Duke, or those proud barons, lords, and knights who, by his pleasure, held their fiefs with rights of justice, the high, the middle and the low.

Day in, day out, the men of Belsaye eyed it askance 'neath scowling brows and, by night, many a clenched hand was shaken and many a whispered malediction sped, toward that thing of doom that menaced them from the dark.

To-night the moon was full, and thus, following Friar Martin's bony outstretched finger, Beltane of a sudden espied afar the Duke's great gallows, rising grisly and stark against the moon's round splendour. So for a s.p.a.ce, standing yet within the shade of the woods, Beltane stared fierce-eyed, the while Giles, with Roger at his elbow, pointed out divers shapes that dangled high in air, at sight of which the friar knelt with bowed head and lips that moved in prayer: and Walkyn, scowling, muttered in his beard.

"Messire," said the archer, "my lord Duke's gallows is great and very strong, and we but five all told!"

"I have mine axe!" quoth Walkyn.

"Had we fifty axes we scarce should bring it down ere dawn: moreover, the night is very still and sounds carry far--"

"Nathless," quoth Roger, "to-night we surely shall destroy it--my lord hath said so."

"Aye--but how?" questioned Giles. "In Belsaye is that pale fox Sir Gui of Allerdale with many trusty men-at-arms to hold the town for Black Ivo and teach Belsaye its duty: how may we destroy my lord Duke's gallows 'neath the very beards of my lord Duke's garrison, wilt tell me that, my good, Black Rogerkin?"

"Aye," nodded Roger, "that will I--when I have asked my lord." So saying, he came and touched Beltane and humbly put the question.

Then, with his gaze yet upon the gallows, Beltane sighed and answered:

"There hath been no rain for weeks, look you: the underbrush is dry, methinks, and should burn well!"