heir various companies, but Beltane abode very full of
sorrowful thoughts. To him presently cometh Giles yet grasping the blue
standard befouled with dust and blood, the which he laid reverently at
Beltane's feet.

"Lord," said he, "my trust is ended. See, yonder standeth our company
of foresters!" and he pointed where a single rank of grimed and weary
men lay upon the hard flag-stones or leaned on their battered weapons.

"Giles--O Giles, is this all?"

"Aye, lord, we muster but seventy and one all told, and of these Tall
Orson lieth dead yonder in Jenkyn's arms, and Roger--poor Roger is
a-dying, methinks--and Ulf and Walkyn are not."

But even as he spake he turned and started, for, from the ward below a
hunting horn brayed feebly.

"'Tis our forester's rally, master!" quoth he, "and see--Jesu, what men
are these?" For into the courtyard, followed by many who gaped and
stared in wonderment, six men staggered, men hideously stained and
besplashed from head to foot, and foremost came two. And Walkyn was one
and Ulf the Strong the other.

Now as he came Walkyn stared in strange, wild fashion, and choked often
in his breathing, and his mailed feet dragged feebly, insomuch that he
would have fallen but for Ulf's mighty arm. Being come where Beltane
stood with Sir Benedict and many other wondering knights and nobles,
Walkyn halted and strove to speak but choked again instead. In one hand
bare he his great axe, and in the other a torn and stained war-cloak.

"Lord," quoth he in sobbing breaths, "a good day for thee--this--lord
Duke--a good day for Pentavalon--a joyous day--blessed day for me--
You'll mind they slew mother and father and sister, lord--brother and
wife and child? Empty-hearted was I and desolate therefore, but--to-day,
ha, to-day I die also, methinks. So, an ye will, lord Duke--keep
thou mine axe in memory--of Walkyn--'tis a goodly axe--hath served me
well today--behold!"

Now as he spake he loosed a corner of the war-cloak, and from its
grimed and ghastly folds there rolled forth into the red light of the
cleanly sun a thing that trundled softly across the pavement and
stopping, shewed a pallid face crowned with red hair, 'neath which upon
the brow, betwixt the staring eyes, was a jagged scar like to a cross.

Now while all men stared upon this direful thing, holding their
breaths, Walkyn laughed loud and high, and breaking from Ulf's clasp,
staggered to where it lay and pointed thereto with shaking