ethinks! Hark!--Hark to
them!" And in truth the air was full of their raving clamour, with,
ever and anon, the shouts and cries of those that urged them on.

"Hast a noble horse, Sir Fidelis. Now God send he bear thee well this
day, for 'twill be hard and cruel going. Come--'tis time, methinks!"

Thus speaking, Beltane gave his horse the rein and forth they rode
together out into the broad and open glade, their armour glinting in
the sun; and immediately the dogs gave tongue, louder, fiercer than
before. Now looking back. Beltane beheld afar many mounted men who
shouted amain, flourishing lance and sword, while divers others let
slip the great dogs they held in leash; then, looking up the glade
ahead, and noting its smooth level and goodly length, Beltane smiled
grimly and drew sword. "Sir Fidelis," said he, "hast a mace at thy
saddle-bow: betake thee to it, 'tis a goodly weapon, and--smite hard.
'Twill be the dogs first. Now--spur!"

Forward bounded the two high-mettled steeds, gathering pace with every
stride, but the great hounds came on amain, while beyond, distant as
yet, the hunters rode--knight and squire, mounted bowman and man-at-arms
they spurred and shouted, filling the air with fierce halloo.
Slowly the hounds drew nearer--ten great beasts Beltane counted--that
galloped two and two, whining and whimpering as they came.

Now of a sudden Beltane checked in his career, swerved, swung the
plunging roan, and with long blade agleam, rode in upon the racing pack
to meet their rush with deadly point and deep-biting edge; a slavering
hound launched itself at his throat, its fangs clashing on the stout
links of his camail, but as the great beast hung thus, striving to drag
him from the saddle, down came the mace of Sir Fidelis and the snarling
beast fell to be crushed 'neath the trampling hoofs of the war-horse
Mars. And now did the mighty roan prove himself a very Mars indeed,
for, beset round about by fierce, lean shapes that crouched and leapt
with cruel, gleaming fangs, he stamped and reared and fought them off,
neighing loud defiance. Thus, with lashing hoof, with whirling mace and
darting sword fought they, until of the hounds there none remained save
three that limped painfully to cover, licking their hurts as they went.

But other foes were near, for as Beltane reined his snorting steed
about, he swayed in his stirrups 'neath the shock of a cross-bow bolt
that glanced, whirring, from his bascinet, and in t