d of sweet gold pieces!
All my lord Duke's revenue of Winisfarne and the villages adjacent
thereunto! Taxes, see ye, my lord Duke's taxes--and all stolen, reft,
and ravished from me, Guido, Steward and Bailiff of the northern
Marches, by clapper-claws and raveners lewd and damned! Woe's me for my
lord's good money-bags!"

"O, content thee!" spake another voice, sleepy and full-fed, "for, an
these monies were the Duke's they were not thine, and if they were not
thine thou wert not robbed, and, since thou wert not robbed, wherefore
groan and glower ye on the moon? Moreover, thou hast yet certain monies
thou didst--collect--from yon blind fellow, the which remindeth me I
have not yet my share. So pray thee now disburse, good steward."

Hereupon, ere Beltane could stay him, Roger slipped, soft-treading,
into the undergrowth; upon whose vanishing the air grew very suddenly
full of shouts and cries, of scuffling sounds and woeful pleadings; and
striding forward, Beltane beheld two men that crouched on bended knees,
while Roger, fierce and threatening, stood betwixt, a hairy hand upon
the throat of each. Now beholding Beltane, they (these gasping rogues)
incontinent beset him with whimpering entreaties, beseeching of him
their lives. Ragged knaves they seemed, and in woeful plight--the one a
lank fellow and saturnine, with long, down-trending, hungry nose; the
other a little man, plump and buxom, whose round eyes blinked woefully
in his round and rosy face as he bent 'neath Roger's heavy hand. Yet
spake he to Beltane in soft and soothing accents, on this wise:

"Resplendent sir, behold this thy most officious wight who doth my
tender throat with hurtful hand encompass--doubtless to some wise and
gracious end an he doth squeeze me thus at thy command. Yet, noble sir,
humbly would I woo of thee the mercy of a little more air, lest this
right noble youth do choke me quite!"

But hereupon the lank fellow cried out, bold and querulous:

"Take ye heed, for whoso dareth lay hand on me, toucheth the person of
Duke Ivo's puissant self!"

"Ha--say ye so?" growled Roger, and forthwith squeezed him until he
gasped again.

"Loose me, knave!" he panted, "Duke Ivo's Steward, I--Bailiff of the
northern Marches with--towns and villages--adjacent thereunto--"

"Unhand them, Roger," said Beltane, "entreat them gently--in especial
my lord Duke's Steward and Bailiff of the Marches, if so he be in very
truth."

"Yea my lord, in very trut