"My lord," quoth he, "fifty and three is a goodly number; must they all die to-morrow?"

"To-morrow? Aye--or whensoever Sir Gui wills."

"Ah, fair lord," says Beltane, "then, as I guess, these fifty and three shall a.s.suredly live on awhile, since Sir Gui of Allerdale will hang men no more."

"Ha, dare ye mock me, knave?" cried Sir Robert, and clenching iron hand he spurred upon Beltane, but checked as suddenly, and pointed where, midst the shrinking populace, strode one in knightly armour, whose embroidered surcoat bore the arms, and whose vizored helm the crest of Sir Gui of Allerdale. Now beholding this silent figure, a groan of fear went up, divers men sank crouching on their knees, the Reeve uttered a hoa.r.s.e gasp and covered his face, while even Beltane, staring wide-eyed, felt his flesh a-creep. But now Sir Robert rode forward:

"Greeting, lord Seneschal!" said he, "you come betimes, messire, though not over hastily, methinks!"

"Forsooth," quoth the figure, his voice booming in his great war-helm, "forsooth and verily there be three things no man should leave in haste: _videlicit_ and to wit: his prayers, his dinner and his lady.

None the less came I hither to give thee greeting, good my lord."

"My lord Seneschal, what manner of men be these of thine?"

"O fair sir, they be ordinary men, rogues, see you, and fools--save one, a comely man this, an archer unequalled, hight Giles o' the Bow, a man of wit, very full of strategies and wiles."

"Aye, but what of yon tall knave, now," said Sir Robert, pointing at Beltane, "who is he?"

"Forsooth, a knave, my lord, an arrant knave with long legs."

"He will look well on a gibbet, methinks, Sir Gui."

"Indeed, my lord he might grace the gallows as well as you or I."

"The rogue telleth me that you will hang men no more."

"Ha, said he so forsooth? dared he so asperse mine honour? Ha, here is matter for red-hot irons, the pincers and the rack, anon. But come, Sir Robert--thou dost bear news, belike; come your ways and drink a goblet of wine."

"Nay, my lord, I thank thee, but I must hence this night to Barham Broom. But for my news, 'tis this: the out-law men call Beltane, hath, by devilish arts, sacked and burned Garthlaxton Keep."

"Why, this I knew; there is a lewd song already made thereon, as thus:

"They gave Garthlaxton to the flame, Be glory to Duke Beltane's name, And unto l.u.s.ty Giles the same, _Dixit_!"

"Forsooth, a naughty song, a very gallows' song, in faith. Pray you, what more?"

"There hath come unto the Duke one hight Gurth--a hang-dog rogue that doth profess to know the lurking-place of this vile outlaw, and to-morrow at sunset, Sir Pertolepe and I with goodly force march into the green. So now must I hence, leaving with thee these captives from Bourne that you shall hang above the walls for a warning to all such outlaws and traitors. Lastly, my lord Seneschal, drink not so deep a-nights, and so, fare thee well."

Now as he yet spake rose the shrill notes of a horn, and turning about, Sir Robert beheld men whose mail glistened in the torchlight and whose long pikes hemmed him in close and closer what time a fierce shout went up: "Kill!" "Kill!"

"Ho, treason!" he roared, and grasped at his sword hilt; but down came Roger's heavy broadsword upon Sir Robert's helm, beating him to earth where Walkyn's mighty foot crushed him down and his axe gleamed bright.

Then, while the air rang with shouts and cries and the clatter of trampling hoofs, a white figure leapt and bestrode the fallen knight, and Walkyn glared down into the pale face of Friar Martin.

"Forbear, Walkyn, forbear!" he cried, and speaking, staggered for very weakness and would have fallen but Walkyn's long arm was about him. And ever the uproar grew; the grim ranks of archers and pikemen drew closer about Sir Robert's shrinking men-at-arms what time the townsfolk, brandishing their weapons, shouted amain, "Kill! Kill!"

Now Roger's blow had been full l.u.s.ty and Sir Robert yet lay a-swoon, seeing which, divers of his company, casting down their arms, cried aloud for quarter; whereat the townsfolk shouted but the fiercer: "Slay them! Kill! Kill!" But now, high above this clamour, rose the shrill note of Beltane's horn bidding all men to silence. Hereupon there came to him the white friar, who, looking earnestly upon his mailed face, uttered a sudden glad cry and caught his hand and kissed it; then turned he to the surging concourse and spake loud and joyously:

"Stay, good people of Belsaye! O ye children of affliction, spill not the blood of these thine enemies, but look, rather, upon this man! For this is he of whom I told ye in the days of your tribulation, this is he who burned the shameful gallows, who brake open the dungeon and hath vowed his life to the cause of the oppressed and weak. Behold now the son of Beltane the Strong and Just! Behold Beltane, our rightful Duke!"

Now went there up to heaven a great and wild acclaim; shouts of joy and the thunderous battle-cry "Arise! Arise! Pentavalon!" Then, while all eyes beheld and all ears hearkened, Beltane spake him, plain and to the point, as was his custom:

"Behold now, men of Belsaye, these our enemies do cry us mercy, and shall we not bestow it? Moreover one living hostage is better than two foemen slain. Entreat them gently, therefore, but let me see them lodged secure ere I march hence."

But hereupon came many of the townsfolk with divers counsellors and chief men of the city who, kneeling, most earnestly prayed Beltane to abide for their defence.

"Good my lord," quoth the Reeve, "bethink thee, when Duke Ivo shall hear of our doings he will seek bitter vengeance. Ah, my lord, 'twas but five years agone he stormed Belsaye and gave it up to pillage--and on that day--my wife--was slain! And when he had set up his great gallows and hanged it full with our men, he vowed that, should Belsaye anger him again, he would burn the city and all within it and, O my lord, my lord--I have yet a daughter--Ah, good my lord, leave us not to ravishment and death!"

"Aye, go not from us, my lord!" cried the others. "Be thou our leader henceforth!" and thereto they besought him with eager cries and with hands outstretched.

But Beltane shook his head; quoth he:

"Look now, as men are born into the world but for the good of man, so must I to my duty. And methinks, this is my duty: to do such deeds as shall ring throughout this sorrowful Duchy like a trumpet-blast, bidding all men arise and take hold upon their manhood. Garthlaxton is no more, but there be many castles yet to burn whose flames, perchance, shall light such a fire within the souls of men as shall ne'er be quenched until Wrong and Tyranny be done away. So must I back to the wild-wood to wild and desperate doings. But, as for ye--I have heard tell that the men of Belsaye are brave and resolute. Let now the memory of wrongs endured make ye trebly valiant to maintain your new-got liberty. If Duke Ivo come, then let your walls be manned, for 'tis better to die free men than trust again to his mercy."

"Verily, lord," said the Reeve, "but we do lack for leaders. Our provost and all our captains Duke Ivo hanged upon his gallows. Beseech thee, then, give to us a leader cunning in war."

"That will I," answered Beltane, "on this condition--that every able man shall muster under arms each day within the market-square."

"It shall be done, my lord."

Then summoned he Eric of the wry neck, together with Giles who came forthwith, being yet bedight in Sir Gui's harness.

"Eric, I have marked thee well; methinks thou art one long bred to arms and learned in war?"

"My lord Beltane, in other days I was the Duke thy father's High Constable of all the coast-wise towns."

"Ha--say'st thou so in sooth? Then now do I make thee lord Constable of Belsaye. As to thee, Giles, thou guileful rogue, hast full oft vaunted thyself a soldier of experience, so now am I minded to prove thee and thy methods. How if I give thee charge over the bowmen of Belsaye?"

"Why first, sweet, tall brother, first will I teach them to draw a bow, pluck a string, and speed a shaft as never townsman drew, plucked or sped--in fine, I will teach them to shoot: and, thereafter, devoutly pray the good Saint Giles (that is my patron saint) to send us Black Ivo and his dogs to shoot at!"

"So be it. Choose ye now each ten men of your companies that shall abide here with ye what time I am away--yet first mark this: In your hands do I leave this fair city, to your care I give the lives and well-being of all these men and women and children. Come now, lay here your hands upon my sword and swear me to maintain Belsaye to the last man 'gainst siege or storm, so long as life be in you!"

Now when they had sworn, Beltane turned him to the Reeve:

"Good sir," quoth he, "I pray you loose now the captives from their chains. Let your prisoners be secured, and for the rest, let us now eat and drink lest we famish."

Thus in a while, Sir Robert of Hurstmanswyke, dazed and bewildered, and his four esquires, together with his thirty men-at-arms, stripped of armour and weapons, were led away and lodged secure beneath the keep.

Now it chanced that as Beltane stood apart with head a-droop as one in thought, there came to him Sir Fidelis and touched him with gentle hand.

"My lord Beltane," said he softly, "of what think you?"

"Of Pentavalon, and how soonest her sorrows may be done away."

"Lovest thou Pentavalon indeed, messire?"

"Aye, truly, Fidelis."

"Then wherefore let her suffer longer?"

"Suffer? Aye, there it is--but how may I bring her woes to sudden end?