t
of bow-shot, lead them through every quag, every bog and marsh 'twixt
here and Hundleby Fen, and of those that follow still, thou and Walkyn
and our merry men shall make an end, I pray God. So let all lie well
hid, and watch for my coming. And now--farewell to thee, Roger."

"But, master," quoth Roger, waxing rueful, "in this thou must run dire
perils and dangers, and I not with thee. So pray thee let Sir Fidelis--
hard!--Ha!--now God aid us--hark to that! Master, they've loosed the
dogs on us!"

Even as he spake, very faint and far as yet but plain to hear above the
leafy stirring, the deep baying of a hound came down the wind.

"Hunting-dogs, master! Ride--ride!" quoth Roger, wiping sweat from him,
"O sweet Christ forgive me, for I have hunted down poor rogues with
such ere now--"

"Forsooth, Roger, and now is their turn to hunt thee, mayhap. Howbeit,
ride you at speed, and you, sir knight also, get you gone, and
whatsoever betide, Roger, wait you at Hundleby Fen for me. Go--obey
me!" So, looking upon Beltane with eyes of yearning, Black Roger
perforce wheeled and rode out into the glade, and striking spurs to his
eager steed, galloped swiftly away. Now turned Beltane upon Sir
Fidelis:

"How, messire--are ye not gone?"

Then answered Sir Fidelis, his drooping head averted:

"Thou seest, my lord--I go beside thee according to thy word--"

"Presumptuous youth, I want thee not!"

"The day will yet come, perchance, my lord--and I can be patient--"

"Ha--dost defy me?"

"Not so, my lord--nor do I fear thee. For I do know thee better than
thyself, so do I pity thee--pity thee--thou that art so mighty and yet
so weak. Thou art a babe weeping in a place of shadows, so will I go
beside thee in the dark to soothe and comfort thee. Thou art a noble
man, thy better self lost awhile 'neath sickly fancies--God send they
soon may pass. Till then I can be very patient, my lord Beltane."

Now did Beltane stare with eyes of wonder upon Sir Fidelis who managed
his fretting charger with a gracious ease, yet held his face ever
averted. While, upon the stilly air, loud and more loud rose the fierce
baying of the hounds.

Said Beltane at last:

"Messire, thou dost hear the hounds?"

"In faith, my lord, I tremble to be gone, but an thou dost tarry, so
must I."

"Death shall follow hard after us this day, Sir Fidelis."

"Why then, an death o'ertake us--I must die, messire."

"Ha,--the hounds have winded us already, m