aking his bandaged
head.

"Sir Hacon," said the Duchess, frowning and pale, "I pray you summon me
the Reeve, yonder." And when the Reeve was come, she spake him very
soft and sweet:

"Messire, I pray you let us out and aid the poor, stricken souls
yonder."

"But lady, the battle is not yet won--to open our gates were unwise,
methinks."

"Good Reeve, one died but lately whom all men loved, but dying, Friar
Martin spake these words--'I see Belsaye rich and happy, her gates ever
open to the woeful and distressed.' Come, ope the gates and let us out
to cherish these afflicted."

Thus presently forth from Belsaye rode the Duchess Helen, with Sir
Hacon beside her and many of the townsfolk, hasting pale-cheeked and
trembling to minister unto the hurt and dying, and many there were that
day who sighed out their lives in blessings on her head.

But meantime the battle roared, fierce and furious as ever, where Black
Ivo's stubborn ranks, beset now on three sides, gave back sullenly,
fighting step by step.

And amid the blood and dust, in the forefront of that raging tumult, a
torn and tattered blue banner rocked and swayed, where Beltane with
Giles at his right hand led on his grim foresters, their ranks woefully
thinned and with never a horse among them. But Roger was there, his
face besmeared with blood that oozed 'neath his dinted bascinet, and
Ulf was there, foul with slaughter, and there was Walkyn fierce and
grim, while side by side amid the trampling pikemen behind, Jenkyn and
Tall Orson fought. And presently to Beltane came Walkyn, pointing
eagerly to their left.

"Master," he cried, "yonder flaunteth Pertolepe's banner, beseech thee
let us make thitherward--"

"Not so," quoth Beltane, stooping 'neath the swing of a gisarm, "O
forget thy selfish vengeance, man, and smite but for Pentavalon this
day--her foes be many enow, God wot! Ho!" he roared, "they yield! they
yield! Close up pikes--in, in--follow me!" Forward leapt he with Roger
beside him and the blue banner close behind, and forward leapt those
hardy foresters where the enemy's reeling line strove desperately to
stand and re-form. So waxed the fight closer, fiercer; griping hands
fumbled at mailed throats and men, locked in desperate grapple, fell
and were lost 'neath the press; but forward went the tattered banner,
on and on until, checking, it reeled dizzily, dipped, swayed and
vanished; but Roger had seen and sprang in with darting point.

"Up, ma