shining casque to
gleaming shield, whereon was neither charge nor blazon; and so at last,
spake my Beltane, very gentle and courteous:

"Messire, an thou be come in peace, now shalt thou be right welcome--"

"Peace!" quoth the knight loud and fierce, and his laughter rang hoarse
within his helm. "Peace, forsooth! Thou art a tall and seemly youth, a
youth fair spoken, and yet--ha! A belt of silver! And golden hair! And
yet--so very youthful! Art thou in very truth this famous rogue whose
desperate deeds do live on every tongue, who hath waked Duke Ivo from
his long-time security, insomuch that he doth yearn him for that yellow
head o' thine--art thou Beltane the Outlaw and Rebel?"

"'Tis so men do call me, messire."

"Verily, youth, methinks dost lie, for I have heard this outlaw is
beyond all men wild and fierce and weaveth him demoniac spells and
enchantments most accurst, whereby he maketh gate and door and mighty
portcullis to ope and yield before his pointed finger, and bolt and bar
and massy wall to give him passage when he will, as witness the great
keep of Garthlaxton that he did burn with hellish fire. I have heard he
doth commonly burn gibbets to warm him, and beareth off great lords
beneath his arm as I might a small coney and slayeth him three or four
with his every stroke. 'Tis said that he doth wax daily mightier and
more fierce, since he doth drink hot blood and batteneth on flesh o'
tender babes beneath the orbed moon--"

"Messire," said Beltane beginning to frown, "within thy wild and
foolish talk is this much truth, that I, with divers trusty comrades,
did indeed burn down the shameful gallows of Belsaye, and bore captive
a certain lordly knave. As for Garthlaxton, the thing was simple--"

"O boastful boy!" quoth the knight, tossing aside his shield, "O
beardless one, since thou dost proclaim thyself this desperate rogue,
here is reason just for some small debate betwixt us. Do on thy coif
forthwith, for now will I strive to make an end of thee," and speaking,
the knight unsheathed a long and ponderous sword.

"How an I fight thee not, sir knight?"

"Then must I needs belabour thee to the good of thy soul, sir outlaw.
So on with thy coif, I say!"

Incontinent ran Roger to fetch his bascinet the which Beltane slowly
fitted on above his hood of mail, and thereafter, albeit unwillingly,
fronted this doughty knight, foot to foot and point to point. Now
stepped they a moment about each other, light