aster--a mine! a mine! They have breached the
wall beside the gate--hark, where they storm the city! Come, master, O
come ere it be too late!"

Now Beltane clenched his fists and scowled on pale-faced Roger and from
him to the radiant sky, yet when he spake his voice was low and even:

"I thank thee, faithful Roger! Go you and summon such of our foresters
as ye may, muster them in the market-square, there will I come to
thee."

Now when Roger's flickering light had vanished he turned, and found
Helen close beside him; her cheeks were pale, but in her hand she held
his sword.

"'Tis well thou wert not all unarmed, my lord!" she sighed, and
forthwith belted the weapon about him. "Kneel down, I prithee, that I
may lace for thee thy hood of mail." And when it was done she knelt
also, and taking his hand pressed it to her throbbing heart, and
holding him thus fell to prayer:

"O God of mercy, have in care those that fight in our defence this
night, in especial guard and shield this man of mine that I do love
beyond all men--O God of mercy, hear us!"

So they arose, and as he looked on her so looked she on him, and of a
sudden clasped him in close and passionate embrace:

"Beltane--Beltane!" she sobbed, "God knoweth I do so love thee that thy
dear flesh is mine, methinks, and the steel that woundeth thee shall
hurt me also. And--O love--an thou should'st die to-night, then surely
will this heart of mine die with thee--no man shall have my love other
than thou--so to my grave will I go thy virgin wife for thy dear sake.
Fare thee well Beltane, O dear my husband, fare thee well. Tarry no
longer, lest I pray thee on my knees to go not to the battle."

So Beltane kissed her once and went forth of the chamber, looking not
back. She heard the ring of his armour a-down the stair, the quick
tread of his feet, and leaning from the casement watched him go; and
he, knowing her there, looked not up, but with teeth hard shut and iron
hands clenched, strode fast upon his way.

And now, since he looked not up, it seemed to her she was out of his
thoughts already, for his face was stern and set, and in his eyes was
the fierce light of battle.

And she, kneeling alone in the failing glory of the moon, hid her face
within yearning, desolate arms and wept long and bitterly.

CHAPTER LXVIII

FRIAR MARTIN'S DYING PROPHECY

Now as Beltane hasted along he heard the tread of mailed feet, and
looking round beheld the white fria