Shall lift me up to heaven at last,
So I thank God for love."

"Here is a fair song, methinks; dost not wonder at love now, Roger, and
the glory of it?"

"I wonder," quoth Roger, "how long thou shalt believe all this when
thou art wed. I wonder how long thou wilt live true to her when she is
thy wife!"

Now hereupon the archer's comely face grew red, grew pale, his bronzed
hands flew to his belt and leapt on high, gripping his dagger; but
Roger had seen, his fingers closed on the descending wrist and they
grappled, swaying in their saddles.

Grim and silent they slipped to earth and strove together on the ling.
But Roger had Giles in a cruel wrestling-hold, wrenched him, bent him,
and bearing him to earth, wrested away the dagger and raised it above
the archer's naked throat. And Giles, lying powerless beneath, looked
up into Roger's fierce scowling face and seeing no pity there, his pale
cheek grew paler and in his eyes came an agony of broken hopes; but his
gaze quailed not and when he spake, his voice was firm.

"Strike true, comrade!" said he.

The hand above him wavered; the dagger was dashed aside and covering
his face, Black Roger crouched there, his broad shoulders and powerful
figure quaking and shivering. Then Giles arose and stepping to his
dagger, came back with it grasped in his hand.

"Roger!" said he.

Quoth Roger, his face still hidden:

"My throat is bare also, archer!"

"Roger--comrade, give to me thy belt!"

Now at this Roger looked up, wondering.

"My belt?" quoth he, "what would ye, Giles?"

"Cut away thy last notch, Roger--thy belt shall go smooth-edged
henceforth and thy soul clean, methinks."

"But I meant to slay thee, Giles."

"But spared me, Roger, spared me to life and--love, my Rogerkin. O
friend, give me thy belt!"

So Roger gave him the belt, wherefrom Giles forthwith cut the last
notch, which done, they together, like mischievous lads, turned to look
where their lord rode far ahead; and beholding him all unconscious and
lost in thought, they sighed their relief and mounting, went on
together.

Now did Roger oft glance at Giles who kept his face averted and held
his peace, whereat Roger grew uneasy, fidgeted in his saddle, fumbled
with the reins, and at last spake:

"Giles!"

"Aye, Roger!"

"Forgive me!"

But Giles neither turned nor spake, wherefore contrite Roger must needs
set an arm about him and turn him about, and behold, the archer's eyes
were brimm