edict on her.

"Yolande!" said he, hoarse-voiced and low.

"Benedict!" she murmured.

Slowly Sir Benedict bowed his head, and turning, laid his hand on
Beltane's mailed shoulder.

"Lady," said he, "behold here Beltane--that is son to Beltane
heretofore Duke and Lord of Pentavalon!"

"Ah!" she whispered, "Beltane!" and of a sudden stretched out her arms
in passionate yearning gesture, then, covering her face, sank upon her
knees, "God pity me!" she sighed, "God pity me!" Thereafter she rose to
her stately height and looked on Beltane, gentle and calm-eyed.

"My lord Beltane," said she, "I have heard tell thou art a noble
knight, strong yet gentle--so should thy father be greatly blessed in
thee--and thy--mother also. God have thee ever in His keeping--
Beltane!"

Now as she spake the name her soft voice brake, and turning, she stood
with head bowed upon her hands, and standing thus, spake again,
deep-voiced and soft:

"Sir Benedict, we are come to minister to the hurt, all is prepared
within the tower, let them be brought to us I pray, and--my lord,
forget not the sacred oath thou didst swear me--long years agone!"

CHAPTER LVIII

HOW BELTANE HAD SPEECH WITH THE ABBESS

They found rich booty in Pertolepe's camp, with store of arms and
armour and many goodly horses, and thither Sir Benedict's wearied
followers betook them as night fell and knew blessed rest and sleep.
But in the tower of Brand lights gleamed where the Abbess and her
gentle nuns went to and fro among the wounded, ministering to their
wants; and far beyond the camp, armour glinted ever and anon against
the blackness of the surrounding woods, where outpost and sentinel kept
vigilant watch and ward. Though late the hour Beltane sat wakeful, chin
on fist, beside a glimmering watch-fire, oft turning his glance towards
the massy, weather-beaten tower, bethinking him of the noble lady
Abbess, of her strange looks and words, and so fell to brooding
thought. High overhead the moon rode, obscured by flying clouds, a wild
wrack up-whirling from the south: at fitful intervals was a wind that
moaned drearily 'mid the gloom of distant woods, a desolate sound that
sobbed upon the air, and dying to a wail, was gone. Now becoming aware
of this, Beltane raised his head, and looked up at the ominous heavens
and round about him. And thus he espied a light that hovered hither and
thither above the distant battle-field, a small light whose red flame
flashed