d judge if this be just and sufficient cause for war, and bitter
war, betwixt us!"

Now beholding the face of the speaker, his proud and noble bearing, his
bold eyes fierce and bright and the grim line of nose and chin, Duke
Ivo blenched and drew back, the smile fled from his lip, and he stared
wide of eye and breathless.

"Beltane!" quoth he at last, "Beltane--ha! methought thee dusty bones
these many years--so it is war, I judge?"

For answer Duke Beltane lifted on high the long sword he bore.

"Ivo," said he, "the cries and groans of my sorrowful and distressed
people have waked me from my selfish griefs at last--so am I come for
vengeance on their innocent blood, their griefs and wrongs so long
endured of thee. This do I swear thee, that this steel shall go
unsheathed until I meet thee in mortal combat--and ere this sun be set
one of us twain shall be no more."

"Be it so," answered Black Ivo, "this night belike I shall hang thee
above the ruins of Belsaye yonder, and thy son with thee!" So saying,
he turned about and chin on fist rode into his camp, where was mounting
and mustering in hot haste.

"Beltane," spake the Duchess, clasping Beltane's hand, "dost know at
last?"

"Aye," answered he with eyes aglow, "But how cometh my noble father
yonder?"

"I sought him out in Holy Cross Thicket, Beltane. I told him of thy
valiant doings and of thy need of instant aid, and besought him to take
up arms for thee and for me and for dear Mortain, and to lead my army
'gainst--"

But Beltane, falling before her on his knee spake quick and passionate:

"O Helen--Helen the Beautiful! without thee I had been nought, and less
than nought! Without thee, Pentavalon had groaned yet 'neath cruel
wrong! Without thee--O without thee, my Helen, I were a thing lost and
helpless in very truth!"

Now hereupon, being first and foremost a woman, young and loving and
passionate, needs must she weep over him a little and stoop to cherish
his golden head on her bosom, and holding it thus sweetly pillowed, to
kiss him full oft and thereafter loose him and blush and sigh and turn
from his regard, all sweet and shy demureness like the very maid she
was.

Whereat Beltane, forgetful of all but her loveliness, heedful of nought
in the world but her warm young beauty, rose up from his knees and,
trembling-mute with love, would have caught her to his eager arms; but
of a sudden cometh Giles, breathless--hasting up the narrow stair and,
al