E FEALTY TO BELTANE: AND HOW GOOD
FRIAR MARTIN DIGGED A GRAVE IN THE WILD

Now when Beltane's mighty hunger was assuaged he sat--his aching head
yet ringing with the blow--and stared up at the moon, sad and wistful-eyed
as one full of heaviness the while Black Roger standing beside him
gazed askance at the archer who sat near by whistling softly and busied
with certain arrows, cleaning and trimming them ere he set them back in
his quiver. And presently Black Roger spake softly, low-stooping to
Beltane's ear:

"Lord, we have saved the life of yon prating archer-fellow, and behold
my belt lacketh for one notch, which is well. So come, let us go our
ways, thou and I, for I love not your talkers, and this fellow hath
overmuch to say."

But now, ere Beltane could make reply, came the hairy man--but behold
his rags had given place to fair garments of tanned leather (albeit
something small) together with steel cap and shirt of ringed mail, and,
about his middle, a broad belt where swung a heavy sword; being come to
Beltane he paused leaning upon his axe, and gazed upon him fierce-eyed:

"Messire," said he, "who ye are I know not, what ye are I care not, for
art quick of foot and mighty of arm, and when ye fight, cry a point of
war, a battle-shout I knew aforetime ere they enslaved and made of me a
serf--and thus it is I would follow thee."

Quoth Beltane, his aching head upon his hand:

"Whither?"

"To death if needs be, for a man must die soon or late, yet die but
once whether it be by the steel, or flame, or rope. So what matter the
way of it, if I may stand with this my axe face to face with Gilles of
Brandonmere, or Red Pertolepe of Garthlaxton Keep: 'twas for this I
followed his foresters."

"Who and whence are you?"

"Walkyn o' the Dene they call me hereabouts--though I had another name
once--but 'twas long ago, when I marched, a lad, 'neath the banner of
Beltane the Strong!"

"What talk be this?" grunted Black Roger, threatening of mien, "my lord
and I be under a vow and must begone, and want no runaway serf crawling
at our heels!"

"Ha!" quoth Walkyn, "spake I to thee, hangman? Forsooth, well do I know
thee, Roger the Black: come ye into the glade yonder, so will I split
thy black poll for thee--thou surly dog!"

Forth leapt Black Roger's sword, back swung Walkyn's glittering axe,
but Beltane was between, and, as they stood thus came Giles o' the Bow:

"Oho!" he laughed, "must ye be at it yet? Have w