"Behold," said the friar, "but one short hour agone this was alive--a child of God, pure of heart and undefiled. These gentle hands lie stilled forever: this sweet, white body (O shame of men!) blasted by brutality, maimed and torn--is nought but piteous clay to moulder in the year. Yet doth her radiant soul lie on the breast of God forever, since she, for honour, died the death--Behold!" So saying, the friar with sudden hand laid bare the still and marble bosom; and, beholding the red horror wrought there by cruel steel, Beltane rose up, and taking off his cloak, therewith reverently covered the pale, dead beauty of her, and so stood awhile with eyes close shut and spake, soft-voiced and slow, 'twixt pallid lips:
"How--came this--thing?"
"She was captive to Sir Pertolepe, by him taken in a raid, and he would have had her to his will: yet, by aid of my lord's jester, she escaped and fled hither. But Sir Pertolepe's foresters pursued and took her and--so is she dead: may God requite them!"
"Amen!" quoth Giles o' the Bow, hoarse-voiced, "so do they all lie dead within the green!"
"Save one!" said Roger.
"But he sore wounded!" quoth Walkyn.
"How!" cried the friar aghast, "have ye indeed slain Sir Pertolepe's foresters?"
"Nineteen!" nodded Roger, grimly.
"Alas!" cried the friar, "may God save the poor folk hereabouts, for now will Sir Pertolepe wreak vengeance dire upon them."
"Then," said Beltane, "then must I have word with Sir Pertolepe."
Now when he said this, Black Roger stared agape and even the archer's tongue failed him for once; but Walkyn smiled and gripped his axe.
"Art mad, tall brother!" cried Giles at length, "Sir Pertolepe would hang thee out of hand, or throw thee to his dogs!"
"Lord," said Roger, "Sir Pertolepe hath ten score men-at-arms in Garthlaxton, beside bowmen and foresters."
"There should be good work for mine axe!" smiled Walkyn.
"None the less must I speak with him," said Beltane, and turned him to the door.
"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 God 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 God 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 God make of thee Duke indeed!"
Quoth Beltane:
"Duke am I in blood and Duke will I yet be in very sooth an God 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