s a man. Yet man art thou also, worthy,
methinks, and able to wield it. Take it therefore, lord Duke that art
my brother-in-arms; mayhap it shall aid thee to bring order in the
wild-wood and win Pentavalon to freedom. Howbeit, wheresoe'er thou dost
go, e'en though it be to shame and failure, I am with thee!"

"And I!" cried Giles, reaching for his bow.

"And I also!" quoth Roger.

CHAPTER XXIX

HOW BELTANE SLEW TOSTIG AND SPAKE WITH THE WILD MEN

The sun was down what time they left the hill country and came out upon
a wide heath void of trees and desolate, where was a wind cold and
clammy to chill the flesh, where rank-growing rush and reed stirred
fitfully, filling the dark with stealthy rustlings.

"Master," quoth Roger, shivering and glancing about him, "here is
Hangstone Waste, and yonder the swamps of Hundleby Fen--you can smell
them from here! And 'tis an evil place, this, for 'tis said the souls
of murdered folk do meet here betimes, and hold high revel when the
moon be full. Here, on wild nights witches and warlocks ride shrieking
upon the wind, with goblins damned--"

"Ha, say ye so, good Roger?" quoth the archer, "now the sweet Saint
Giles go with us--amen!" and he crossed himself devoutly.

So went they in silence awhile until they were come where the sedge
grew thick and high above whispering ooze, and where trees, stunted and
misshapen, lifted knotted arms in the gloom.

"Lord," spake Walkyn, his voice low and awe-struck, "here is the marsh,
a place of death for them that know it not, where, an a man tread awry,
is a quaking slime to suck him under. Full many a man lieth 'neath the
reeds yonder, for there is but one path, very narrow and winding--
follow close then, and step where I shall step."

"Aye, master," whispered Roger, "and look ye touch no tree as ye go;
'tis said they do grow from the bones of perished men, so touch them
not lest some foul goblin blast thee."

So went they, following a narrow track that wound betwixt slow-stirring
sedge, past trees huddled and distorted that seemed to writhe and
shiver in the clammy air until, beyond the swamp, they came to a place
of rocks where ragged crags loomed high and vague before them. Now, all
at once, Walkyn raised a warning hand, as from the shadow of those
rocks, a hoarse voice challenged:

"Stand!" cried the voice, "who goes?"

"What, and is it thou, rogue Perkyn?" cried Walkyn, "art blind not to
know me?"

"Aye," growled the