,
into his embrace, her arms clung soft about him, and he felt her breath
upon his cheek, as clasping his left arm about her, he lifted her high
against his breast. And now, even as she trembled against him, so
trembled Beltane also yet knew not why; therefore of a sudden he turned
and stepped into the chamber. A man started up beside the hearth,
muttering evilly; and Beltane, standing rigid, gripped his dagger to
smite, but even then the muttering ceased, and falling back, the man
rolled over and fell a-snoring again. So, lightly, swiftly, Beltane
strode over the sprawling sleepers--out through the open doorway--out
into the sweet, cool night beyond--out into the merry riot of the
wind. Swift and sure of foot he sped, going ever where the shadows lay
deepest, skirting beyond reach of the paling watch-fires, until he was
come nigh where the horses stamped and snorted. Here he set the nun
upon her feet, and bidding her stir not, crept towards the horses,
quick-eyed and watchful. And thus he presently espied a man who leaned
him upon a long pike, his face set toward the nearest watch-fire: and
the man's eyes were closed, and he snored gently. Then Beltane shifted
his dagger to his left hand, and being come within reach, drew back his
mailed fist and smote the sleeper betwixt his closed eyes, and catching
him as he fell, laid him gently on the grass.

Now swift and silent came Beltane to where the horses champed, and
having made choice of a certain powerful beast, slipped off his chain
mittens and rolled back sleeve of mail and, low-stooping in the shadow,
sought and found the ropes whereto the halters were made fast, and
straightway cut them in sunder. Then, having looked to girth and
bridle, he vaulted to the saddle, and drawing sword, shouted his
battle-cry fierce and loud: "Arise! Arise!" and, so shouting, smote the
frighted horses to right and left with the flat of the long blade, so
that they reared up whinnying, and set off a-galloping in all
directions, filling the air with the thunder of their rushing hoofs.

And now came shouts and cries with a prodigious confusion and running
to and fro about the dying watch-fires. Trumpets blared shrill, hoarse
voices roared commands that passed unheeded in the growing din and
tumult that swelled to a wild clamour of frenzied shouting:

"Fly! fly! Pertolepe is upon us! 'tis the Red Pertolepe!"

But Beltane, riding warily amid the gloom, came to that place where he
had left