"O, God pity thee, Beltane!"

And now followed long hours when demons vile racked him with anguish
and mocked him with bitter gibes; a haunted darkness where was fear and
doubt and terror of things unknown: yet, in the blackness, a light that
grew to a glory wherein no evil thing might be, and in this glory SHE
did stand, tall and fair and virginal. And from the depths of
blackness, he cried to her in agony of remorse, and from the light she
looked down on him with eyes brimful of yearning love and tenderness,
for that a gulf divided them. But, across this hateful void she called
to him--"O, God pity thee, my Beltane!"

CHAPTER XLV

HOW BLACK ROGER TAUGHT BELTANE GREAT WISDOM

A darkness, full of a great quietude, a grateful stillness, slumberous
and restful; yet, little by little, upon this all-pervading silence, a
sound crept, soft, but distressful to one who fain would sleep; a sound
that grew, a sharp noise and querulous. And now, in the blackness, a
glimmer, a furtive gleam, a faint glow that grew brighter and yet more
bright, hurtful to eyes long used to deeps of gloom; but, with the
noise, ever this light grew--from gleam to glow and from glow to
dazzling glare; and so, at last, Beltane opened unwilling eyes--eyes
that blinked and smarted as they beheld a leaping flame where a fire of
twigs crackled merrily against a purple void beyond; beholding all of
which, Beltane forthwith shut his eyes again. But those soft deeps
wherein he had found so sweet oblivion, that great and blessed quietude
were altogether vanished and beyond him to regain; wherefore Beltane
felt himself aggrieved and sorrowed within himself, and so, presently
oped his reluctant eyes and fell to watching the play of wanton spark
and flame. None the less he knew himself yet aggrieved, also he felt a
sudden loneliness, wherefore (as was become his custom of late) he
called on one ever heedful and swift to answer his call.

"Fidelis!" he called, "Fidelis!" Yet came there no one, and Beltane
wondered vaguely why his voice should sound so thin and far away. So,
troubling not to move, he called again:

"Fidelis--art sleeping, my Fidelis?"

Now of a sudden, one stirred amid the shadows beyond the fire, mail
gleamed, and Black Roger bent over him.

"Master!" he cried joyfully, his eyes very bright, "O, master, art
awake at last?--dost know Roger--thy man,--dost know thy Roger, lord?"

"Aye, forsooth, I know thee, Roger," says Beltane,