So Beltane strode on beside this garrulous bowman, hearkening to his merry talk, yet himself speaking short and to the point as was ever his custom; as thus:
BOWMAN. "How do men call thee, tall brother?"
BELTANE. "Beltane."
BOWMAN. "Ha! 'Tis a good name, forsooth I've heard worse--and yet, forsooth, I've heard better. Yet 'tis a fairish name--'twill serve. As for me, Giles Brabblecombe o' the Hills men call me, for 'twas in the hill country I was born thirty odd years agone. Since then twelve sieges have I seen with skirmishes and onfalls thrice as many. Death have I beheld in many and divers shapes and in experience of wounds and dangers am rich, though, by St. Giles (my patron saint), in little else. Yet do I love life the better, therefore, and I have read that 'to despise gold is to be rich.'"
BELTANE. "Do all bowmen read, then?"
BOWMAN. "Why look ye, brother, I am not what I was aforetime--_non sum quails eram _--I was bred a shaveling, a mumbler, a be-gowned do-nothing--brother, I was a monk, but the flesh and the devil made of me a bowman, heigho--so wags the world! Though methinks I am a better bowman than ever I was a monk, having got me some repute with this my bow."
BELTANE (shaking his head). "Methinks thy choice was but a sorry one for--"
BOWMAN (laughing). "Choice quotha! 'Twas no choice, 'twas forced upon me, _vi et armis._ I should be chanting prime or matins at this very hour but for this tongue o' mine, God bless it! For, when it should have been droning psalms, it was forever lilting forth some blithesome melody, some merry song of eyes and lips and stolen kisses. In such sort that the good brethren were wont to gather round and, listening,-- sigh! Whereof it chanced I was, one night, by order of the holy Prior, drubbed forth of the sacred precincts. So brother Anselm became Giles o' the Bow--the kind Saints be praised, in especial holy Saint Giles (which is my patron saint!). For, heed me--better the blue sky and the sweet, strong wind than the gloom and silence of a cloister. I had rather hide this sconce of mine in a hood of mail than in the mitre of a lord bishop--_nolo episcopare,_ good brother! Thus am I a fighter, and a good fighter, and a wise fighter, having learned 'tis better to live to fight than to fight to live."
BELTANE. "And for whom do ye fight?"
BOWMAN. "For him that pays most, _pecuniae obediunt omnia,_ brother."
BELTANE (frowning). "Money? And nought beside?"
BOWMAN (staring). "As what, brother?"
BELTANE. "The justice of the cause wherefore ye fight."
BOWMAN. "Justice quotha--cause! O innocent brother, what have such matters to do with such as I? See you now, such lieth the case. You, let us say, being a baron (and therefore noble!) have a mind to a certain other baron's castle, or wife, or both--(the which is more usual) wherefore ye come to me, who am but a plain bowman knowing nought of the case, and you chaffer with me for the use of this my body for so much money, and thereafter I shoot my best on thy behalf as in mine honour bound. Thus have I fought both for and against Black Ivo throughout the length and breadth of his Duchy of Pentavalon. If ye be minded to sell that long sword o' thine, to none better market could ye come, for there be ever work for such about Black Ivo."
BELTANE. "Aye, 'tis so I hear."
BOWMAN. "Nor shall ye anywhere find a doughtier fighter than Duke Ivo, nor a leader quicker to spy out the vantage of position and attack."
BELTANE. "Is he so lusty a man-at-arms?"
BOWMAN. "With lance, axe, or sword he hath no match. I have seen him lead a charge. I have watched him fight afoot. I have stormed behind him through a breach, and I know of none dare cope with him--unless it be Sir Pertolepe the Red."
BELTANE. "Hast ne'er heard tell, then, of Benedict of Bourne?"
BOWMAN (clapping hand to thigh). "Now by the blood and bones of St. Giles 'tis so! Out o' the mouth of a babe and suckling am I corrected! Verily if there be one to front Black Ivo 'tis Benedict o' the Mark. To behold these two at handstrokes--with axes--ha, there would be a sweet affray indeed--a sight for the eyes of holy archangels! Dost know aught of Sir Benedict, O Innocence?"
BELTANE. "I have seen him."
BOWMAN. "Then, my soft and gentle dove-like youth, get thee to thy marrow-bones and pray that kind heaven shall make thee more his like, for in his shoes doth stand a man--a knight--a very paladin!"
BELTANE. "Who fighteth not for--hire. Sir Bowman!"
BOWMAN. "Yet who hireth to fight, Sir Dove-eyed Giant, for I have fought for him, ere now, within his great keep of Thrasfordham within Bourne. But, an ye seek employ, his is but a poor service, where a man shall come by harder knocks than good broad pieces."
BELTANE. "And yet, 'spite thy cunning and all thy warring, thy purse goeth empty!"
BOWMAN. "My purse, Sir Dove? Aye, I told thee so for that I am by nature cautious--_sicut mos est nobis_! But thy dove's eyes are honest eyes, so now shall you know that hid within the lining of this my left boot be eighty and nine gold pieces, and in my right a ring with stones of price, and, moreover, here behold a goodly chain."
So saying, the bowman drew from his bosom a gold chain, thick and long and heavy, and held it up in the sunlight.
"I got this, Sir Dove, together with the ring and divers other toys, at the storming of Belsaye, five years agone. Aha! a right good town is Belsaye, and growing rich and fat against another plucking."
"And how came Belsaye to be stormed?" Quoth Giles the Bowman, eying his golden chain:
"My lord Duke Ivo had a mind to a certain lady, who was yet but a merchant's daughter, look ye. But she was young and wondrous fair, for Duke Ivo hath a quick eye and rare judgment in such pretty matters. But she (and she but a merchant's daughter!) took it ill, and when Duke Ivo's messengers came to bear her to his presence, she whined and struggled, as is ever woman's way, and thereafter in the open street snatched a dagger and thereupon, before her father's very eye did slay herself (and she but a merchant's daughter!), whereat some hot-head plucked out sword and other citizens likewise, and of my lord Duke's messengers there none escaped save one and he sore wounded. So Belsaye city shut its gates 'gainst my lord Duke and set out fighting-hoards upon its walls. Yet my lord Duke battered and breached it, for few can match him in a siege, and stormed it within three days. And, by Saint Giles, though he lost the merchant's daughter methinks he lacked not at all, for the women of Belsaye are wondrous fair."
The rising sun made a glory all about them, pouring his beams 'twixt mighty trees whose knotted, far-flung branches dappled the way here and there with shadow; but now Beltane saw nought of it by reason that he walked with head a-droop and eyes that stared earthward; moreover his hands were clenched and his lips close and grim-set. As for Giles o' the Bow, he chirrupped merrily to the ass, and whistled full melodiously, mocking a blackbird that piped amid the green. Yet in a while he turned to stare at Beltane rubbing at his square, shaven