d
it into the shameful mire. So fare thee well, sir knight. God go with
thee and keep thee ever from the love of woman!"

So saying Beltane rose, and lifting the bugle-horn he wore, sounded it;
whereon came all and sundry, running and with weapons brandished--but
Roger first of all.

To all of whom Beltane spake thus:

"Behold here this gentle knight our guest is for the nonce--entreat him
courteously therefore; give him all that he doth lack and thereafter
set him upon his way--"

But hereupon divers cast evil looks upon the knight, murmuring among
themselves--and loudest of all Walkyn.

"He knoweth the secret of our hiding-place!"

"'Tis said he knoweth the causeway through the fen!"

"He will betray us!"

"Dogs!" said Beltane, clenching his hands, "will ye defy me then? I say
this knight shall go hence and none withstand him. Make way, then--or
must I?" But now spake the youthful knight his gaze still bent upon
the flame, nor seemed he to heed the fierce faces and eager steel that
girt him round. "Nay, messire, for here methinks my quest is ended!"
"Thy quest, sir knight--how so?" Then the knight turned and looked
upon Beltane. Quoth he: "By thy size and knightly gear, by thy--thy
yellow hair, methinks thou art Beltane, son of Beltane the Strong?"
"Verily, 'tis so that I am called. What would you of me?" "This,
messire." Herewith the stranger knight loosed belt and surcoat and drew
forth a long sword whose broad blade glittered in the firelight, and
gave its massy hilt to Beltane's grasp. And, looking upon its shining
blade, Beltane beheld the graven legend "Resurgam." Now looking upon
this, Beltane drew a deep, slow breath and turned upon the youthful
knight with eyes grown suddenly fierce. Quoth he softly: "Whence had
you this, sir knight?" "From one that liveth but for thee." "Ah!"
said Beltane with scornful lip, "know ye such an one, in faith?" "Aye,
messire," spake the knight, low-voiced yet eager, "one that doth
languish for thee, that hath sent me in quest of thee bearing this thy
sword for a sign, and to bid thee to return since without thee life is
an emptiness, and there is none so poor, so heart-sick and woeful as
Helen of Mortain!" "Ah--liar!" cried Beltane, and reaching out fierce
hands crushed the speaker to his knees; but even so, the young knight
spake on, soft-voiced and calm of eye: "Greater than thine is her love
for thee, methinks, since 'tis changeless and abiding--Slay me an thou
wilt