"Helen?--Helen?--thou too!" exclaimed Sir Jocelyn, and forthwith dropped his sword, staring in stark amaze. "How--dost thou love her also?"
"Aye," sighed Beltane, "to my sorrow!"
Then stooped Sir Jocelyn and, taking up his sword, slowly sheathed it. Quoth he, sad-eyed:
"Life, methinks, is full of disappointments; farewell to thee, Sir Smith," and sighing, he turned away; yet ere he had taken lance and shield, Beltane spake:
"Whither away, Sir Jocelyn?"
"To sigh, and sing, and seek adventure. 'Twas for this I left my goodly castle of Alain and journeyed, a lorn pilgrim, hither to Pentavalon, since when strange stories have I heard that whisper in the air, speeding from lip to lip, of a certain doughty knight-at-arms, valiant beyond thought, that beareth a sword whose mighty sweep none may abide, who, alone and unaided slew an hundred and twenty and four within the greenwood, and thereafter, did, 'neath the walls of Belsaye town burn down Duke Ivo's gibbet, who hath sworn to cut Duke Ivo into gobbets, look you, and feed him to the dogs; which is well, for I love not Duke Ivo. All this have I heard and much beside, idle tales mayhap, yet would I seek out this errant Mars and prove him, for mine own behoof, with stroke of sword."
"And how an he prove worthy?" questioned Beltane.
"Then will I ride with him, to share his deeds and glory mayhap, Sir Smith--I and all the ten-score lusty fellows that muster to my pennon, since in the air is whispered talk of war, and Sir Benedict lieth ready in Thrasfordham Keep."
"Two hundred men," quoth Beltane, his blue eyes agleam, "two hundred, say you?" and, speaking, he stepped forward, unsheathing his sword.
"How now," quoth Sir Jocelyn, "what would ye, sweet smith?"
"I would have thee prove me for thy behoof, Sir Jocelyn; for I am he that with aid of five good men burned down the gibbet without Belsaye."
"Thou!" cried Sir Jocelyn, "and thou art a smith! And yet needs must I credit thee, for thine eyes be truthful eyes. And did'st indeed slay so many in the green, forsooth?"
"Nay," answered Beltane, "there were but twenty; moreover I--"
"Enough!" cried Sir Jocelyn, gaily, "be thou smith or be thou demi-god, now will I make proof of thy might and valiance." And he drew sword.
So did these two youths face each other, smiling above their gleaming steel, and so the long blades rang together, and, thereafter, the air was full of a clashing din, in so much that Roger came running sword in hand, with Walkyn and Giles at his heels; but, seeing how matters stood, they sat them down on the sward, watching round-eyed and eager.
And now Sir Jocelyn (happy-eyed), his doleful heart forgot, did show himself a doughty knight, skipping lightly to and fro despite his heavy armour, and laying on right lustily while the three a-sprawl upon the grass shouted gleefully at each shrewd stroke or skilful parry; but, once Sir Jocelyn's blade clashed upon Beltane's mailed thigh, and straightway they fell silent; and once his point touched the links on Beltane's wide breast, and straightway their brows grew anxious and gloomy--yet none so gloomy as Roger. But now, on a sudden, was the flash and ring of hard smitten steel, and behold, Sir Jocelyn's sword sprang from his grasp and thudded to earth a good three yards away; whereupon the three roared amain--yet none so loud as Roger.
"Now by sweet Cupid his tender bow!" panted Sir Jocelyn--"by the cestus of lovely Venus--aye, by the ox-eyed Juno, I swear 'twas featly done, Sir Smith!"
Quoth Beltane, taking up the fallen sword:
"'Tis a trick I learned of that great and glorious knight, Sir Benedict of Bourne."
"Messire," said Sir Jocelyn, his cheek flushing, "an earl am I of thirty and two quarterings and divers goodly manors: yet thou art the better man, meseemeth, and as such do I salute thee, and swear myself thy brother-in-arms henceforth--an ye will."
Now hereupon Beltane turned, and looking upon the mighty three with kindling eye, beckoned them near.
"Lord Jocelyn," said he, "behold here my trusty comrades, valiant men all:--this, my faithful Roger, surnamed the Black: This, Giles Brabblecombe, who shooteth as ne'er did archer yet: and here, Walkyn-- who hath known overmuch of sorrow and bitter wrong. Fain would we take thee for our comrade, Lord Jocelyn, for God knoweth Pentavalon hath need of true men these days, yet first, know this--that I, and these my three good comrades do stand pledged to the cause of the weak and woefully oppressed within this sorrowful Duchy; to smite evil, nor stay till we be dead, or Black Ivo driven hence."
"Ivo?--Ivo?" stammered Sir Jocelyn, in blank amaze, "'tis madness!"
"Thus," said Beltane, "is our cause, perchance, a little desperate, and he who companies with us must company with Death betimes." "To defy Black Ivo--ha, here is madness so mad as pleaseth me right well! A rebellion, forsooth! How many do ye muster?"
Answered Beltane:
"Thou seest--we be four--"
"Four!" cried Sir Jocelyn, "Four!"
"But Sir Benedict lieth within Thrasfordham Keep, and God is in heaven, messire."
"Aye, but heaven is far, methinks, and Duke Ivo is near, and hath an arm long and merciless. Art so weary of life, Sir Smith?"
"Nay," answered Beltane, "but to what end hath man life, save to spend it for the good of his fellows?"
"Art mad!" sighed Sir Jocelyn, "art surely mad! Heigho!--some day, mayhap, it shall be written how one Jocelyn Alain, a gentle, love-lorn knight, singing his woes within the greenwood, did meet four lovely madmen and straight fell mad likewise. So here, upon my sword, do I swear to take thee for my brother-in-arms, and these thy comrades for my comrades, and to spend my life, henceforth, to the good of my fellows!"
So saying, Sir Jocelyn smiled his quick bright smile and reached out his hand to my Beltane, and there, leaning upon their swords, their mailed fingers clasped and wrung each other. Thereafter he turned upon the three, but even as he did so, Walkyn uttered a fierce cry, and whirling about with axe aloft, sprang into the green, whence of a sudden rose a babel of voices, and the sound of fierce blows and, thereafter, the noise of pursuit. A flicker of steel amid the green--a score of fierce faces all about him, and Beltane was seized from behind, borne struggling to his knees, to his face, battered by unseen weapons, dragged at by unseen hands, choked, half-stunned, his arms twisted and bound by galling thongs. Now, as he lay thus, helpless, a mailed foot spurned him fiercely and looking up, half-swooning, he beheld Sir Pertolepe smiling down at him.
"Ha--thou fool!" he laughed jovially, "did'st think to escape me, then --thou fool, I have followed on thy tracks all day. By the eyes of God, I would have followed thee to hell! I want thee in Garthlaxton--there be gibbets for thee above the keep--also, there are my hounds--aye, I want thee, Messire Beltane who art Duke of Pentavalon! Ho! Arnulf--a halter for his ducal throat!" So, when they had cast a noose about his neck, they dragged Beltane, choking, to his feet, and led him away gasping and staggering through the green; and having eyes, he saw not, and having ears, he heard not, being very spent and sick.
Now, as they went, evening began to fall.
CHAPTER XVII
OF THE AMBUSHMENT NEAR THORNABY MILL
Little by little, as he stumbled along, Beltane's brain began to clear; he became aware of the ring and clash of arms about him, and the trampling of horses. Gradually, the mist lifting, he saw long files of men-at-arms riding along very orderly,