"There be outlaws in the wild-wood!" quoth Beltane.

"Ha!--the outlaws!" cried Giles, and clapped hand to thigh.

"Aye," nodded Beltane, "bring me to the outlaws."

"But bethink thee, tall brother--of what avail a thousand such poor, ragged, ill-armed rogues 'gainst the walls of Garthlaxton? They shall not tear you the stones with their finger-nails nor rend them with their teeth, see'st thou!"

"To burn Garthlaxton!" growled Walkyn, biting at his fingers. "Ha, to give it to the fire! But the walls be mighty and strong and the outlaws scattered. 'Twould take a week to muster enough to attempt a storm, nor have they engines for battery--"

"Enough!" said Beltane rising, his brows close drawn, "now hearken, and mark me well; the hole whereby one man came out may let a thousand in.

Give me but an hundred men at my back and Garthlaxton shall be aflame ere dawn. So, come now, Walkyn--bring me to the outlaws."

"But lord, these be very wild men, obedient to no law save their own, and will follow none but their own; lawless men forsooth, governed only by the sword and made desperate by wrong and fear of the rope--"

"Then 'tis time one learned them other ways, Walkyn. So now I command thee, bring me to them--'tis said thou wert great among them once."

Hereupon Walkyn rose and taking up his mighty axe twirled it lightly in his hand. "Behold, lord," said he, "by virtue of this good axe am I free of the wild-wood; for, long since, when certain lords of Black Ivo burned our manor, and our mother and sister and father therein, my twin brother and I had fashioned two axes such as few men might wield--this and another--and thus armed, took to the green where other wronged men joined us till we counted many a score tall fellows, l.u.s.ty fighters all. And many of Ivo's rogues we slew until of those knights and men-at-arms that burned our home there none remained save Red Pertolepe and Gui of Allerdale. But in the green--love came--even to me--so I laid by mine axe and vengeance likewise and came to know happiness until--upon a day--they hanged my brother, and thereafter they slew--her--my wife and child--e'en as ye saw. Then would I have joined the outlaws again.

But in my place they had set up one Tostig, a st.u.r.dy rogue and foul, who ruleth by might of arm and liveth but for plunder--and worse. Him I would have fought, but upon that night I fell in with thee. Thus, see you, though I am free of the wild, power with these outlaws have I none. So, an I should bring thee into their secret lurking-place, Tostig would a.s.suredly give thee to swift death, nor could I save thee--"

"Yet must I go," said Beltane, "since, while I live, vowed am I to free Pentavalon. And what, think you, is Pentavalon? 'Tis not her hills and valleys, her towns and cities, but the folk that dwell therein; they, each one, man and woman and child, the rich and poor, the high and low, the evil and the good, aye, all those that live in outlawry--these are Pentavalon. So now will I go unto these wild men, and once they follow my call, ne'er will I rest until they be free men every one. Each blow they strike, the wounds they suffer, shall win them back to honourable life, to hearth and home--and thus shall they be free indeed. So, Walkyn, bring me to the outlaws!"

Then stood Walkyn and looked upon Beltane 'neath heavy brows, nothing speaking, and turned him of a sudden and, striding forth of the cave, came back bearing another great axe.

"Lord," said he, "thy long sword is missing, methinks. Take now this axe in place of it--'twas my brother's once. See, I have kept it bright, for I loved him. He was a man. Yet man art thou also, worthy, methinks, and able to wield it. Take it therefore, lord Duke that art my brother-in-arms; mayhap it shall aid thee to bring order in the wild-wood and win Pentavalon to freedom. Howbeit, wheresoe'er thou dost go, e'en though it be to shame and failure, I am with thee!"

"And I!" cried Giles, reaching for his bow.

"And I also!" quoth Roger.

CHAPTER XXIX

HOW BELTANE SLEW TOSTIG AND SPAKE WITH THE WILD MEN

The sun was down what time they left the hill country and came out upon a wide heath void of trees and desolate, where was a wind cold and clammy to chill the flesh, where rank-growing rush and reed stirred fitfully, filling the dark with stealthy rustlings.

"Master," quoth Roger, shivering and glancing about him, "here is Hangstone Waste, and yonder the swamps of Hundleby Fen--you can smell them from here! And 'tis an evil place, this, for 'tis said the souls of murdered folk do meet here betimes, and hold high revel when the moon be full. Here, on wild nights witches and warlocks ride shrieking upon the wind, with goblins d.a.m.ned--"

"Ha, say ye so, good Roger?" quoth the archer, "now the sweet Saint Giles go with us--amen!" and he crossed himself devoutly.

So went they in silence awhile until they were come where the sedge grew thick and high above whispering ooze, and where trees, stunted and misshapen, lifted knotted arms in the gloom.

"Lord," spake Walkyn, his voice low and awe-struck, "here is the marsh, a place of death for them that know it not, where, an a man tread awry, is a quaking slime to suck him under. Full many a man lieth 'neath the reeds yonder, for there is but one path, very narrow and winding-- follow close then, and step where I shall step."

"Aye, master," whispered Roger, "and look ye touch no tree as ye go; 'tis said they do grow from the bones of perished men, so touch them not lest some foul goblin blast thee."

So went they, following a narrow track that wound betwixt slow-stirring sedge, past trees huddled and distorted that seemed to writhe and shiver in the clammy air until, beyond the swamp, they came to a place of rocks where ragged crags loomed high and vague before them. Now, all at once, Walkyn raised a warning hand, as from the shadow of those rocks, a hoa.r.s.e voice challenged:

"Stand!" cried the voice, "who goes?"

"What, and is it thou, rogue Perkyn?" cried Walkyn, "art blind not to know me?"

"Aye," growled the voice, "but blind or no, I see others with thee."

"Good friends all!" quoth Walkyn.

"Stand forth that I may see these friends o' thine!" Drawing near, Beltane beheld a man in filthy rags who held a long bow in his hand with an arrow on the string, at sight of whom Roger muttered and Giles held his nose and spat.

"Aha," growled the man Perkyn, peering under his matted hair, "I like not the looks o' these friends o' thine--"

"Nor we thine, foul fellow," quoth Giles, and spat again whole-heartedly.

"How!" cried Walkyn fiercely, "d'ye dare bid Walkyn stand, thou dog's meat? Must I flesh mine axe on thy vile carcase?"

"Not till I feather a shaft in thee," growled Perkyn, "what would ye?"

"Speak with Eric o' the Noose."

"Aha, and what would ye with half-hung Eric, forsooth? Tostig's our chief, and Tostig's man am I. As for Eric--"

"Aye--aye, and what of Eric?" spake a third voice--a soft voice and liquid, and a man stepped forth of the rocks with two other men at his heels.

"Now well met, Eric o' the Noose," quoth Walkyn. "I bring promise of more booty, and mark this, Eric--I bring also him that you wot of."

Now hereupon the man Eric drew near, a broad-set man clad in skins and rusty mail who looked upon Beltane with head strangely askew, and touched a furtive hand to his battered head-piece.

"Ye come at an evil hour," said he, speaking low-voiced. "Tostig holdeth high feast and revel, for to-day we took a rich booty at the ford beyond Ba.s.singthorp--merchants out of Winisfarne, with pack-horses well laden--and there were women also--in especial, one very fair. Her, Tostig bore hither. But a while since, when he bade them bring her to him, behold she had stabbed herself with her bodkin. So is she dead and Tostig raging. Thus I say, ye come in an evil hour."

"Not so," answered Beltane. "Methinks we come in good hour. I am fain to speak with Tostig--come!" and he stepped forward, but Eric caught him by the arm:

"Messire," said he soft-voiced, "yonder be over five score l.u.s.ty fellows, fierce and doughty fighters all, that live but to do the will of Tostig and do proclaim him chief since he hath proved himself full oft mightiest of all--"

"Ah," nodded Beltane, "a strong man!"

"Beyond equal. A fierce man that knoweth not mercy, swift to anger and joyful to slay at all times--"

"Why, look you," sighed Beltane, "neither am I a lamb. Come, fain am I to speak with this Tostig."

A while stood Eric, head aslant, peering at Beltane, then, at a muttered word from Walkyn, he shook his head and beckoning the man Perkyn aside, led the way through a cleft in the rocks and up a precipitous path beyond; and as he went, Beltane saw him loosen sword in scabbard.

Ever as they clomb, the path grew more difficult, until at last they were come to a parapet or outwork with mantelets of osiers beyond, cunningly wrought, above which a pike-head glimmered and from beyond which a voice challenged them; but at a word from Eric the sentinel stood aside and behold, a narrow opening in the parapet through which they pa.s.sed and so up another path defended by yet another parapet of osiers. Now of a sudden, having climbed the ascent, Beltane paused and stood leaning upon his axe, for, from where he now stood, he looked down into a great hollow, green and rock-begirt, whose steep sides were shaded by trees and dense-growing bushes. In the midst of this hollow a fire burned whose blaze showed many wild figures that sprawled round about in garments of leather and garments of skins; its ruddy light showed faces fierce and hairy; it glinted on rusty mail and flashed back from many a dinted head-piece and broad spear-head; and upon the air was the sound of noisy talk and boisterous laughter. Through the midst of this great green hollow a stream wound that broadened out in one place into a still and sleepy pool upon whose placid surface stars seemed to float, a deep pool whereby was a tall tree. Now beneath this tree, far removed from the fire, sat a great swarthy fellow, chin on fist, scowling down at that which lay at his feet, and of a sudden he spurned this still and silent shape with savage foot.

"Oswin!" he cried, "Walcher! Throw me this useless carrion into the pool!" Hereupon came two st.u.r.dy rogues who, lifting the dead betwixt them, bore her to the edge of the silent pool. Once they swung and twice, and lo, the floating stars shivered to a sullen splash, and subsiding, rippled softly to the reedy banks.

Slowly the swarthy giant rose and stood upon his legs, and Beltane knew him for the tallest man he had ever seen.