t, whereto he sighed full
deep and oft, till, finding Roger watching him, he forthwith checked
his sighs and frowned instead.

"Roger," quoth he, "whence had ye this thing?"

"My lord, from--Her, the sweet knight Sir Fidelis, thy lady--"

"Why wilt thou call her my lady, Roger?"

"For that 'tis she you love and sigh for, she that doth love thee and
shall bear thee right fair and lusty children yet, so do I pray, and my
prayers are potent these days, for the good Saint Cuthbert heedeth me
regardfully. So do I know that she shall yet lie within thine arms and
yield thee thine heart's desire, _pars_--"

"Art a fool, Roger--aye, a very fool, and talk arrant folly--"

"Yet, master, here is folly shall be thy joy and her joy and--"

"Enough, Roger! Hast forgot the oath I sware? And the ways of woman be
crooked ways. And woman's love a light matter. Talk we of women no
more."

"How!" quoth Roger, staring, "speak we no more of--Her?"

"No more!"

"Forsooth, so be it, master, then will we talk of Sir Fidelis his love--"

"Nor of Sir Fidelis."

"Ha!" growled Roger, scratching his head, "must we go mumchance then,
master?"

"There be other matters for talk."

"Aye--there's witchcraft, master. For mark me, when thou wert sick and
nigh to God and the holy saints, the evil spell could not come nigh
thee, and thou didst yearn and cry continually for nought but--Her. But
now--now that thou'rt hale and strong again--"

"I behold things with mind unclouded, Roger."

"Save by enchantments damned, master. Since that evil day we met yon
accursed witch of Hangstone, hast never been thyself."

"Now do ye mind me how this woman did speak me of marvels and wonders,
Roger--"

"Artifice, lord--devilish toys to lure thee to fouler bewitchments."

"Howbeit, I will seek her out."

"Nay, good master, here shall be perils dire and deadly. O bethink
thee, lest she change thee into a swine, or black dog, aye, or even a
small shrew-mouse--I've heard of such ere now--or blast thee with fire,
or loathly disease, or--"

"None the less will I go."

"Never say so, master!"

"At the full o' the moon."

"Lord, now do I beseech thee--"

"And the moon will be full--to-night, Roger. Go you and saddle now the
horse."

Forthwith went Roger, gloomy and nothing speaking, what time Beltane
sat there staring down at the wallet on his knee, bethinking him of
many things, and, for that he was alone, sighing deep and oft; and so,
very su