he bound it tight above the hurt, (even as
he had seen Sir Fidelis do) and thus stayed the bleeding. Now while
this was a-doing, the young knight must needs talk.

"Ho!" cried he, "'twas a good fight, messire, and he who gave me this
was none other than Benedict of Bourne himself--whom our good Duke doth
fondly imagine pent up within Thrasfordham! O indeed 'twas Sir
Benedict, I saw his hawk-face plain ere he closed his vizor, and he
fought left-handed. Moreover, beside him I recognised the leaping dog
blazoned on the shield of Hacon of Trant--Oho, this shall be wondrous
news for Duke Ivo, methinks. But, faith, 'tis wonder how he escaped
Sir Rollo, and as for the outlaw Beltane we saw nought of him--Sir
Pertolepe vows he was not of this company--mayhap Sir Rollo hath him,
'tis so I pray--so, peradventure I shall see him hang yet! My grateful
thanks, messire, for thy tender care of me. At home I have a mother
that watcheth and prayeth for me--prithee tell me thy name that she may
remember it in her prayers?"

"I am called Beltane the Outlaw, sir knight--and I charge thee to heed
that thy bandage slip not, lest the bleeding start afresh--fare thee
well!" So saying, Beltane turned and went on across the ford what time
the young knight, propped upon weak elbow, stared after him wide of eye
and mouth.

Forthwith Beltane, setting horn to lip, sounded the rally, and very
soon the three hundred crossed the ford and swung off to the left into
the green.

Thus, heartened and refreshed by food and rest, they pressed on amain
southward through the forest with eyes and ears alert and on the strain;
what time grim Sir Benedict, riding with his rearguard, peered through
the dust of battle but saw only the threatening column of the foe upon
the forest road behind, rank upon rank far as the eye could reach, and
the dense green of the adjacent woods on either flank whence unseen
arrows whizzed ever and anon to glance from his heavy armour.

"Ha, Benedict!" quoth Sir Brian, "they do know thee, methinks, 'spite
thy plain armour--'tis the third shaft hath struck thee in as many
minutes!"

"So needs must I stifle and sweat within closed casque!" Sir Benedict
groaned. Upon his right hand Sir Brian rode and upon his left his
chiefest esquire, and oft needs must they wheel their chargers to front
the thunderous onset of Red Pertolepe's fierce van, at the which times
Sir Benedict laughed and gibed through his vizor as he thrust and smote