to try a bout with yon tall rogues!" So saying,
he advanced upon the scowling three, his eyes a-dance, his nimble feet
light-poised for swift action--for lusty rogues were these, who,
seeing him alone, forthwith met him point and edge, besetting him with
many swashing blows, that, whistling, did but cleave the empty air or
rang loud upon his swift-opposing blade. So hewed they, and smote amain
until their brows shone moist and their breaths waxed short; whereat
Beltane mocked them, saying:

"Ha--sweat ye, forsooth? Do ye puff so soon? This cometh of foul eating
and fouler life. Off--off! ye beefy do-nothings! An ye would be worthy
fighters, eat less and bathe ye more!" Then Beltane laid on with the
flat of his heavy sword and soundly belaboured these hard-breathing
knaves, insomuch that one, hard-smitten on the crown, stumbled and
fell, whereupon his comrades, to save their bones, leapt forthwith
a-down the steepy bank and, plunging into the stream, made across to the
farther side, splashing prodigiously, and cursing consumedly, for the
water they liked not at all.

Now as Beltane leaned him on his sword, watching their flounderings
joyful-eyed, the weapon was dashed from his loosened hold, he staggered
'neath the bite of vicious steel, and, starting round, beheld the third
rogue, his deadly sword swung high; but even as the blow fell, Sir
Fidelis sprang between and took it upon his own slender body, and,
staggering aside, fell, and lay with arms wide-tossed. Then, whiles the
robber yet stared upon his sword, shivered by the blow, Beltane leapt,
and ere he could flee, caught him about the loins, and whirling him
aloft, dashed him out into the stream. Then, kneeling by Sir Fidelis,
he took his heavy head upon his arm and beheld his cheeks pale and wan,
his eyes fast shut, and saw his shining bascinet scored and deep-dinted
by the blow.

"Fidelis!" he groaned, "O my brave Fidelis, and art thou slain--for my
sake?" But in a while, what time Beltane kneeled and mourned over him
full sore, the young knight stirred feebly, sighed, and spake.

"Beltane!" he whispered; and again, "Beltane!" Anon his white lids
quivered, and, opening swooning eyes he spake again with voice grown
stronger:

"My lord--my lord--what of thy wound?"

And lo! the voice was sweet to hear as note of merle or mavis; these
eyes were long and deeply blue beneath their heavy lashes; eyes that
looked up, brimful of tenderness, ere they closed slow an