Quoth Beltane:
"As thou art mine, so am I thine, henceforth and forever."
And thus, kneeling together within the wilderness did they plight their troth, low-voiced and tremulous, with arms that clasped and clung and eager lips that parted but to meet again.
"Beltane," she sighed, "ah, Beltane, hold me close! I've wearied for thee so long--so long; hold me close, beloved. See now, as thou dost hate the pomp and stir of cities, so, for thy sake have I fled hither to the wilderness, to live with thee amid these solitudes, to be thy love, thy stay and comfort. Here will we live for each other, and, hid within the green, forget the world and all things else--save only our great love!"
But now it chanced that, raising his head, Beltane beheld his long sword leaning against a tree hard by, and beholding it thus, he bethought him straightway of the Duke his father, of Pentavalon and of her grievous wrongs; and his clasping hands grew lax and fell away and, groaning, he bowed his head; whereat she started anxious-eyed, and questioned him, soft and piteous:
"Is it thy wound? I had forgot--ah, love, forgive me! See here a pillow for thy dear head--" But now again he caught her to him close and fierce, and kissed her oft; and holding her thus, spake:
"Thou knowest I do love thee, my Helen? Yet because I love thee greatly, love, alas, must wait awhile--"
"Wait?" she cried, "ah, no--am I not thine own?"
"'Tis so I would be worthy of thee, beloved," he sighed, "for know that I am pledged to rest not nor stay until my task be accomplished or I slain--"
"Slain! Thou?"
"O, Helen, 'tis a mighty task and desperate, and many perchance must die ere this my vow be accomplished--"
"Thy vow? But thou art a smith, my Beltane,--what hath humble smith to do with vows? Thou art my love--my Beltane the Smith!"
"Indeed," sighed Beltane, "smith was I aforetime, and therewithal content: yet am I also son of my father, and he--"
"Hark!" she whispered, white hand upon his lips, "some one comes-- through the leaves yonder!" So saying she sprang lightly to her feet and stood above him straight and tall: and though she trembled, yet he saw her eyes were fearless and his dagger gleamed steady in her hands.
"Beltane, my love!" she said, "thou'rt so weak, yet am I strong to defend thee against them all."
But Beltane rose also and, swaying on unsteady feet, kissed her once and so took his sword, marvelling to find it so heavy, and drew it from the scabbard. And ever upon the stilly air the rustle of leaves grew louder.
"Beltane!" she sighed, "they be very near! Hearken! Beltane--thine am I, in life, in death. An this be death--what matter, since we die together?"
But, leaning on his sword, Beltane watched her with eyes of love yet spake no word, hearkening to the growing stir amid the leaves, until, of a sudden, upon the bank above, the underbrush was parted and a man stood looking down at them; a tall man, whose linked mail glinted evilly and whose face was hid 'neath a vizored casque. Now of a sudden he put up his vizor and stepped toward them down the sloping bank.
Then the Duchess let fall the dagger and reached out her hands.
"Godric!" she sighed, "O Godric!"
CHAPTER XXI
OF THE TALE OF GODRIC THE HUNTSMAN
Thus came white-haired old Godric the huntsman, lusty despite his years, bright-eyed and garrulous with joy, to fall upon his knees before his lady and to kiss those outstretched hands.
"Godric!" she cried, "'tis my good Godric!" and laughed, though with lips a-tremble.
"O sweet mistress," quoth he, "now glory be to the kind Saint Martin that I do see thee again hale and well. These many days have I followed hard upon thy track, grieving for thee--"
"Yet here am I in sooth, my Godric, and joyful, see you!"
"Ah, dear my lady, thy wilfulness hath e'en now brought thee into dire perils and dangers. O rueful day!"
"Nay, Godric, my wilfulness hath brought me unto my heart's desire. O most joyful day!"
"Lady, I do tell thee here is an evil place for thee: they do say the devil is abroad and goeth up and down and to and fro begirt in mail, lady, doing such deeds as no man ever did. Pentavalon is rife with war and rumours of war, everywhere is whispered talk of war--death shall be busy within this evil Duchy ere long--aye, and even in Mortain, perchance--nay, hearken! Scarce was thy flight discovered when there came messengers hot-foot to thy guest, Duke Ivo, having word from Sir Gui of Allerdale that one hath arisen calling himself son of Beltane the Strong that once was Duke of Pentavalon, as ye know. And this is a mighty man, who hath, within the week, broke ope my lord Duke Ivo's dungeon of Belsaye, slain divers of my lord Duke's good and loyal subjects, and burnt down the great gallows of my lord Duke."
"Ah!" sighed the Duchess, her brows knit thoughtfully, "and what said Duke Ivo to this, Godric?"
"Smiled, lady, and begged instant speech with thee; and, when thou wert not to be found, then Duke Ivo smiled upon thy trembling counsellors. 'My lords,' said he, 'I ride south to hang certain rogues and fools. But, when I have seen them dead, I shall come hither again to woo and wed the Duchess Helen. See to it that ye find her, therefore, else will I myself seek her through the length and breadth of Mortain until I find her--aye, with lighted torches, if need be!"
"And dare he threaten us?" cried the Duchess, white hands clenched.
"Aye, doth he, lady," nodded Godric, garrulous and grim. "Thereafter away he rode, he and all his company, and after them, I grieving and alone, to seek thee, dear my lady. And behold, I have found thee, the good Saint Martin be praised!"
"Verily thou hast found me, Godric!" sighed the Duchess, looking upon Beltane very wistfully.
"So now will I guide thee back to thine own fair duchy, gentle mistress, for I do tell thee here in Pentavalon shall be woeful days anon. Even as I came, with these two eyes did I behold the black ruin of Duke Ivo's goodly gallows--a woeful sight! And divers tales have I heard of this gallows-burner, how that he did, unaided and alone, seize and bear off upon his shoulders one Sir Pertolepe--called the 'Red'-- Lord Warden of the Marches. So hath Duke Ivo put a price upon his head and decreed that he shall forthright be hunted down, and thereto hath sent runners far and near with his exact description, the which have I heard and can most faithfully repeat an you so desire?"
"Aye me!" sighed the Duchess, a little wearily.
"As thus, lady. Item: calleth himself Beltane, son of Beltane, Duke of Pentavalon that was: Item--"
"Beltane!" said the Duchess, and started.
"Item: he is very tall and marvellous strong. Item: hath yellow hair--"
"Yellow hair!" said the Duchess, and turned to look upon Beltane.
"Item: goeth in chain-mail, and about his middle a broad belt of gold and silver. Item: beareth a great sword whereon is graven the legend-- lady, dost thou attend?--Ha! Saint Martin aid us!" cried Godric, for now, following the Duchess's glance, he beheld Beltane leaning upon his long sword. Then, while Godric stared open-mouthed, the Duchess looked on Beltane, a new light in her eyes and with hands tight clasped, while Beltane looking upon her sighed amain.
"Helen!" he cried, "O Helen, 'tis true that I who am Beltane the Smith,