now Sir Fidelis, who, as ye well know,
doth hide womanly beauties in ungentle steel--let now this brave and
noble lady muster forthwith all the powers within her Duchy of Mortain
--every lusty fellow, good saint--and hither march them to my master's
aid. Let her smite and utterly confound Black Ivo, who (as oft I've
told thee--moreover thine eyes are sharp), is but a rogue high-born,
fitter for gallows than ducal crown, even as this most unsavoury Gurth
was a rogue low-born. So when she hath saved my master despite himself,
sweet saint, then do thou join them heart and body, give them joy
abounding and happiness enduring, nor forget them in the matter of
comely children. So bring to woeful Pentavalon and to us all and every,
peace at last and prosperity--and to sorrowful Roger a belt wherein be
no accursed notches and a soul made clean. _In nomen Dominum, Amen!_"

"Master," quoth he, yet upon his knees and viewing Beltane somewhat
askance, "here is the best I can do for such as yon Gurth; will't
suffice, think ye?"

"Aye, 'twill serve, Roger. But, for the other matter--"

"Why see you, master, a man may freely speak his dear desires within
his prayers--more especially when his prayers are potent, as mine.
Moreover I warned thee--I warned thee I would pray for thee--and pray
for thee I have." Now hereupon Beltane rose somewhat hastily and turned
his back, what time Roger sheathed his sword.

Then spake Beltane, turning him to the pool again:

"We had store of tools and mattocks, I mind me. Go and look within the
caves if there be ever a one left, for now must we bury this poor
clay."

"Ha, must we pray for him--_and_ bury him, master?"

"And bury him, Roger."

Then Roger sighed and shook his head and so left Beltane, who fell
again to profound meditation; but of a sudden hearing a cry, he turned
to behold Roger running very fleetly, who, coming near, caught him by
the arm and sought to drag him away.

"Run!" he panted, "run, master--I ha' just seen a goblin--run, master!"

Now beholding the terror in Roger's eyes, Beltane unsheathed his sword.
"Show me, Roger," said he.

"Nay, lord--of what avail? Let's away, this place is rank o' deviltries
and witchcraft--"

"Show me, Roger--come!"

Perforce, Roger led the way, very heedful to avoid each patch of
shadow, until they were come opposite that cave where aforetime Beltane
had been customed to sleep. Here Roger paused.

"Master," he whispered, "there is a