Then Tall Orson shook aloft his battered pike and shouted amain, and on the instant, others took up the cry--a hoa.r.s.e roar that rolled from rank to rank; lance and sword, axe and pike were flourished high in air, and from these men who had marched so grimly silent all the day a great and mighty shout went up:

"Arise, Pentavalon! Ha! Beltane--Pentavalon!" Now even as they shouted, upon this thunderous roar there stole another sound, high and clear and very sweet, that rose and swelled upon the air like the voices of quiring angels; and of a sudden the shouting was hushed, as, forth of the tower's gloomy portal the lady Abbess came, tall and fair and saintly in her white habit, her nuns behind her, two and two, their hands clasped, their eyes upraised to heaven, chanting to G.o.d a hymn of praise and thanksgiving. Slow paced they thus, the stately Abbess with head low-bended and slim hands clasped upon her silver crucifix until, the chant being ended, she raised her head and beheld straightway Sir Benedict unhelmed and yet astride his great charger. The silver crucifix fell, the slim hands clasped themselves upon her bosom and the eyes of the tall, white Abbess grew suddenly wide and dark: and even as she gazed on him, so gazed Sir Benedict on her.

"Yolande!" said he, hoa.r.s.e-voiced and low.

"Benedict!" she murmured.

Slowly Sir Benedict bowed his head, and turning, laid his hand on Beltane's mailed shoulder.

"Lady," said he, "behold here Beltane--that is son to Beltane heretofore Duke and Lord of Pentavalon!"

"Ah!" she whispered, "Beltane!" and of a sudden stretched out her arms in pa.s.sionate yearning gesture, then, covering her face, sank upon her knees, "G.o.d pity me!" she sighed, "G.o.d pity me!" Thereafter she rose to her stately height and looked on Beltane, gentle and calm-eyed.

"My lord Beltane," said she, "I have heard tell thou art a n.o.ble knight, strong yet gentle--so should thy father be greatly blessed in thee--and thy--mother also. G.o.d have thee ever in His keeping-- Beltane!"

Now as she spake the name her soft voice brake, and turning, she stood with head bowed upon her hands, and standing thus, spake again, deep-voiced and soft:

"Sir Benedict, we are come to minister to the hurt, all is prepared within the tower, let them be brought to us I pray, and--my lord, forget not the sacred oath thou didst swear me--long years agone!"

CHAPTER LVIII

HOW BELTANE HAD SPEECH WITH THE ABBESS

They found rich booty in Pertolepe's camp, with store of arms and armour and many goodly horses, and thither Sir Benedict's wearied followers betook them as night fell and knew blessed rest and sleep.

But in the tower of Brand lights gleamed where the Abbess and her gentle nuns went to and fro among the wounded, ministering to their wants; and far beyond the camp, armour glinted ever and anon against the blackness of the surrounding woods, where outpost and sentinel kept vigilant watch and ward. Though late the hour Beltane sat wakeful, chin on fist, beside a glimmering watch-fire, oft turning his glance towards the ma.s.sy, weather-beaten tower, bethinking him of the n.o.ble lady Abbess, of her strange looks and words, and so fell to brooding thought. High overhead the moon rode, obscured by flying clouds, a wild wrack up-whirling from the south: at fitful intervals was a wind that moaned drearily 'mid the gloom of distant woods, a desolate sound that sobbed upon the air, and dying to a wail, was gone. Now becoming aware of this, Beltane raised his head, and looked up at the ominous heavens and round about him. And thus he espied a light that hovered hither and thither above the distant battle-field, a small light whose red flame flashed back from cloven casque and riven shield, where eyes glared unseeing and mouths gaped mute and dumb from a dark confusion whence mailed arms stiffly rose with hands tight-clenched that seemed to menace heaven, and rigid feet whose spurred heels yet gored the flanks of rigid, fallen chargers; to and fro and up and down this small flame leaped merrily, dancing from dead face to dead face but staying never, a fiendish fire that seemed to mock the horror of wounds and gibe at solemn death.

Now as he watched this devilish light, Beltane arose and reaching for his sword went soft-footed to meet it, then paused, for the light was moving towards him. Near and nearer it came, until, into the glow of the fire, his betousled head wild and bare, his link-mail yet befouled with battle, Walkyn strode, and hurling his torch upon the gra.s.s, crushed it out 'neath his heel. Then came he to the fire and stood there, arms crossed, frowning down at the flame.

"Greeting to thee, Waldron of Brand!"

Swift turned Walkyn, his gloomy scowl relaxed at Beltane's voice, and stooping, he took and kissed my Beltane's hand.

"Whence come ye, Walkyn?"

"From going to and fro among the dead, seeking Pertolepe, master. Ha!

they do lie thick yonder, five hundred and twenty and three I counted of b.l.o.o.d.y Pertolepe's following. And in the woods do lie certain others, that I, with divers of our company, pursued and cut off."

"And what of their wounded?"

"I saw none, master--nor have I seen Pertolepe. I have viewed all the slain, but Pertolepe is not there, yet have I smitten and slain three Pertolepes this day--hawks, see you, in eagle's feathers! So is my work yet to do, and I grieve still for Pertolepe's head."

"Sit ye down, Walkyn, here with me beside the fire." Forthwith Walkyn obeyed and stretching himself on the gra.s.s fell to toying with the haft of his axe and scowling at the fire again.

"This was, methinks, thy father's tower and demesne of Brand, Walkyn?"

"Aye, lord, here was I born--yon ruined walls did hear my father's groans--the screams of my mother and sister amid the flame. And Red Pertolepe was there, and Gui of Allerdale and Roger and young Gilles of Brandonmere--all were there with six other n.o.ble knights; but these six we slew long since, my brother and I. All these were here that day--and Sir Pertolepe--laughed--full loud, 'twas told me. So 'twere just he should have died here to-day, methinks? 'Twas for this I lured him hither--and he liveth yet!"

"But G.o.d is a just G.o.d, Walkyn! Now therefore leave him to G.o.d henceforth--!"

"To G.o.d!" cried Walkyn, his eyes wild, his hands tight-clenched, "to G.o.d!--ha! master, ye left him to G.o.d on a time and because of thee, I-- I that had my dagger at his rogue's throat--I, yearning to slay him, did but mark him i' the brow--aye, forsooth, we left him to G.o.d and lo!

to-day he burneth, he slayeth and hangeth as was ever his wont--"

"G.o.d's time is not ours, Walkyn, but for the evil wrought by Sir Pertolepe, Sir Pertolepe needs must answer when G.o.d so wills. So leave him to the vengeance of G.o.d--lest the fire of thy vengeance consume thee quite. Thou art strong, and few may cope with thee in fight, yet hath vengeance fettered and made thee bond-slave. Forego thy vengeance then, and be free, good comrade."

"Nay master, an I so do, what is left me?"

"The love of thy fellows, Walkyn. Thou art, forsooth, a man, so do I love thee, and perchance within a new Pentavalon thou may'st come to new fortune and honour. Thou shalt hold again thy father's lands--"

"To what end, lord? As ye do know, my wife and child do lie in nameless grave, done to cruel death by dogs of Pertolepe: my brother rotted in a noose--set there by Pertolepe. So am I a lonely man henceforth; one thing only seek I of life, master."

"And that, Walkyn?"

"The head of b.l.o.o.d.y Pertolepe!" So saying, Walkyn rose, and stood scowling down at the fire again, whose glow shone ominous and red upon the broad blade of the mighty axe that lay on the gra.s.s at his feet.

Now of a sudden forth from the shadows, swift and silent on his long legs came crooked Ulf, and stooping, would have lifted the weapon, but in that moment Walkyn snarled, and set his foot upon it.

"Off!" he growled, "touch not mine axe, thou vile mannikin--lest I tread on thee!"

But scarce were the words spoken, than, with great back low-crouched, Ulf sprang, and whirling mighty Walkyn aloft, mailed feet on high, held him writhing above the fire: then, swinging about, hurled him, rolling over and over, upon the ling; so lay Walkyn awhile propped on an elbow, staring on Ulf with wide eyes and mouth agape what time, strung for sudden action, Beltane sat cross-legged upon the green, looking from one to the other.

"Mannikin?" roared Ulf, great hands opening and shutting, "unworthy to touch axe of thine, thou pestilent beast! Dare ye so say to one gently born, base fellow? Now will I break thee thine accursed axe--and thee thereafter, an ye will!"

So saying, Ulf the Mighty caught up the axe and wheeling it full-armed, smote and buried it in a young tree close by--wrenched it free and smote again. And lo! with prodigious crack and rending of fibres the tall tree swayed, crashing to earth. Now while Ulf yet stood to stare amazed upon this wondrous axe, upon its sharp-glittering, flawless edge, Walkyn had risen, dagger in hand; but even as he crouched to spring, a voice spake--a gentle voice but commanding; and in the fire-glow stood the white Abbess, tall and gracious, the silver crucifix agleam upon her bosom.

"Children!" she sighed; and looking from scowling Walkyn to frowning Ulf she reached a slim hand to each. "O children," said she, "lay by your steel and give to me your hands!"

Fumbling and awkward, Walkyn sheathed his dagger while Ulf laid the mighty axe upon the gra.s.s very tenderly, as it had been a sleeping child; so came they both, shame-faced, unto the lady Abbess and gave her each a hand. Holding them thus she looked with sad, sweet eyes from one grim face to the other, and drew them nearer the fire.

"Walkyn, son of G.o.d," said she, "behold here Ulf whose valiant heart and mighty strength have been our salvation! Ulf, child of Heaven, whom G.o.d hath made so mighty, behold here brave Walkyn who did protect the weak and helpless and fighteth for the right! Come then, as ye are children of G.o.d, go ye in brotherly love together henceforth, and may heaven bless ye, valiant sons!"

Thus saying, she set their hands one in another, and these hands gripped and held.

Quoth Ulf, sighing:

"Forsooth, I did but mean to try the balance of thine axe, Walkyn. And truly it is a mighty weapon and a peerless--one that even my strength cannot break!"

Quoth Walkyn, grim-smiling:

"There is in this world no axe like unto it save one that was my brother's--and shall be thine henceforth, Ulf the Strong. Come now, and I will give it unto thee." Then bent they reverently before the Abbess, saluted Beltane and, side by side, strode away together.

"Would all feuds might so end, sweet son," sighed the Abbess, her wistful eyes down-bent upon the fire.

"Would there were more sweet souls abroad to teach men reason!" quoth Beltane.

"Why sit you here, my son, wakeful and alone and the hour so late?"