y 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,
lad