ing with great tears!

"O Giles!" gasped Roger, "O Giles!"

"Roger, I--I do love her, man--I do love her, heart and soul! Is this
so hard to believe, Roger, or dost think me rogue so base that true
love is beyond me? 'Tis true I am unworthy, and yet--I do verily love
her, Roger!"

"Wilt forgive me--can'st forgive me, Giles?"

"Aye, Roger, for truly we have saved each other's lives so oft we must
needs be friends, thou and I. Only thy words did--did hurt me, friend--
for indeed this love of mine hath in it much of heaven, Roger. And--
there be times when I do dream of mayhap--teaching--a little Giles--to
loose a straight shaft--some day. O sweet Jesu, make me worthy, amen!"

And now Beltane glancing up and finding the sun high, summoned Giles
and Roger beside him.

"Friends," said he, "we have journeyed farther than methought. Now let
us turn into the boskage yonder and eat."

So in a while, the horses tethered, behold them within a leafy bower
eating and drinking and laughing like the blithe foresters they were,
until, their hunger assuaged, they made ready to mount. But of a sudden
the bushes parted near by and a man stepped forth; a small man he,
plump and buxom, whose quick, bright eyes twinkled 'neath his wide-eaved
hat as he saluted Beltane with obeisance very humble and lowly. Quoth he:

"Right noble and most resplendent lord Duke Beltane, I do most humbly
greet thee, I--Lubbo Fitz-Lubbin, past Pardoner of the Holy See--who
but a poor plain soul am, do offer thee my very insignificant, yet most
sincere, felicitous good wishes."

"My thanks are thine. Pardoner. What more would you?"

"Breath, lord methinks," said Giles, "wind, my lord, after periods so
profound and sonorous!"

"Lord Duke, right puissant and most potential, I would but tell thee
this, to wit, that I did keep faith with thee, that I, by means of this
unworthy hand, did set thee beyond care, lift thee above sorrow, and
gave to thee the heaven of thy most warm and earnest desires."

"How mean you, Pardoner?"

"Lord Duke, when thou didst bestow life on two poor rogues upon a time,
when one rogue stole away minded to betray thee to thine enemy, the
second rogue did steal upon the first rogue, and this second rogue bare
a small knife whereof the first rogue suddenly died. And thus Duke Ivo,
thine enemy, came not before Belsaye until thou and thy company were
safe within its walls. So by reason of this poor second rogue,
Pentavalon doth rej