t out--at last, lad--"

"Knew you she was here?"

"Aye, verily."

"And told me not?"

"For that she did so command, Beltane."

"And wherefore came she hither?"

"For thy dear sake in the first place, and--"

"Nay, mock me not, friend, for I do know myself of none account."

"And in the second place, Beltane, to save this fair city of Belsaye."

"Nay, how mean you?"

"I mean that Belsaye cannot fall whiles it holdeth Helen the Proud. And
the reason this--now mark me, Beltane! Since her father's death Duke
Ivo hath had his glutton eye on fair Mortain, whereof her counsellors
did ken, yet, being old men and averse to war, would fain have had her
wed with him. Now upon a day word reached me in Thrasfordham bidding me
come to her and Waldron of Brand at Winisfarne. So, as thou dost know,
stole I from my goodly castle and marched north. But on the way she
came to me bedight in mail, and she and I took counsel together.
Wherefore came she hither to Belsaye and sent speedy messengers to Sir
Jocelyn of Alain and others of her greatest lords and knights, bidding
them come down with all their powers--nay, why shake ye gloomy head,
fond boy? Body o' me, Beltane, I tell thee this--to-day she--"

"To-day," sighed Beltane, frowning, "to-day she spurneth me! Kneeling
at her feet e'en as I was she shrank away as I had leprous been!"

"Aye, lad, and then--didst woo as well as kneel to her, didst clasp her
to thee, lift her proud head that needs must she give to thine her
eyes--she is in sooth very woman--did you this, my Beltane?"

"Ah, dear Benedict, she that I love was not wont to shrink from me
thus! 'Tis true I am unworthy--and yet, she spurned me--so is her love
dead, methinks!"

"So art thou but youth, and foolish youth, and belike, foolish, hungry
youth--so come, let us break our fast together."

"Not I, Benedict, for if love be dead, no mind have I to food."

"O lad--lad!" sighed Sir Benedict, "would I had one as fair and noble
to love me in such sort!" And turning, he gazed sad-eyed towards
Belsaye's great minster, and sighing, went his way.

And presently, as Beltane leaned thus, grieving and alone, cometh Giles
that way, who, pausing beside him, peered down where the besiegers, but
ill-sheltered by battered mantlet and palisades, strove amain to bring
up one of their rams, since the causeway across the moat was well-nigh
complete.

"Holy saints!" quoth Giles, "the rogues grow bold and venturesome,
methin