Part 53 (1/2)

”Mark ye this horse, Roger. Thou hast said 'twas of good speed and endurance, and methinks 'tis sooth. Howbeit, now shall he prove thy word, for here I wait the hunters, and to-day will I, keeping ever out of bow-shot, lead them through every quag, every bog and marsh 'twixt here and Hundleby Fen, and of those that follow still, thou and Walkyn and our merry men shall make an end, I pray G.o.d. So let all lie well hid, and watch for my coming. And now--farewell to thee, Roger.”

”But, master,” quoth Roger, waxing rueful, ”in this thou must run dire perils and dangers, and I not with thee. So pray thee let Sir Fidelis-- hard!--Ha!--now G.o.d aid us--hark to that! Master, they've loosed the dogs on us!”

Even as he spake, very faint and far as yet but plain to hear above the leafy stirring, the deep baying of a hound came down the wind.

”Hunting-dogs, master! Ride--ride!” quoth Roger, wiping sweat from him, ”O sweet Christ forgive me, for I have hunted down poor rogues with such ere now--”

”Forsooth, Roger, and now is their turn to hunt thee, mayhap. Howbeit, ride you at speed, and you, sir knight also, get you gone, and whatsoever betide, Roger, wait you at Hundleby Fen for me. Go--obey me!” So, looking upon Beltane with eyes of yearning, Black Roger perforce wheeled and rode out into the glade, and striking spurs to his eager steed, galloped swiftly away. Now turned Beltane upon Sir Fidelis:

”How, messire--are ye not gone?”

Then answered Sir Fidelis, his drooping head averted:

”Thou seest, my lord--I go beside thee according to thy word--”

”Presumptuous youth, I want thee not!”

”The day will yet come, perchance, my lord--and I can be patient--”

”Ha--dost defy me?”

”Not so, my lord--nor do I fear thee. For I do know thee better than thyself, so do I pity thee--pity thee--thou that art so mighty and yet so weak. Thou art a babe weeping in a place of shadows, so will I go beside thee in the dark to soothe and comfort thee. Thou art a n.o.ble man, thy better self lost awhile 'neath sickly fancies--G.o.d send they soon may pa.s.s. Till then I can be very patient, my lord Beltane.”

Now did Beltane stare with eyes of wonder upon Sir Fidelis who managed his fretting charger with a gracious ease, yet held his face ever averted. While, upon the stilly air, loud and more loud rose the fierce baying of the hounds.

Said Beltane at last:

”Messire, thou dost hear the hounds?”

”In faith, my lord, I tremble to be gone, but an thou dost tarry, so must I.”

”Death shall follow hard after us this day, Sir Fidelis.”

”Why then, an death o'ertake us--I must die, messire.”

”Ha,--the hounds have winded us already, methinks! Hark!--Hark to them!” And in truth the air was full of their raving clamour, with, ever and anon, the shouts and cries of those that urged them on.

”Hast a n.o.ble horse, Sir Fidelis. Now G.o.d send he bear thee well this day, for 'twill be hard and cruel going. Come--'tis time, methinks!”

Thus speaking, Beltane gave his horse the rein and forth they rode together out into the broad and open glade, their armour glinting in the sun; and immediately the dogs gave tongue, louder, fiercer than before. Now looking back. Beltane beheld afar many mounted men who shouted amain, flouris.h.i.+ng lance and sword, while divers others let slip the great dogs they held in leash; then, looking up the glade ahead, and noting its smooth level and goodly length, Beltane smiled grimly and drew sword. ”Sir Fidelis,” said he, ”hast a mace at thy saddle-bow: betake thee to it, 'tis a goodly weapon, and--smite hard.

'Twill be the dogs first. Now--spur!”

Forward bounded the two high-mettled steeds, gathering pace with every stride, but the great hounds came on amain, while beyond, distant as yet, the hunters rode--knight and squire, mounted bowman and man-at-arms they spurred and shouted, filling the air with fierce halloo.

Slowly the hounds drew nearer--ten great beasts Beltane counted--that galloped two and two, whining and whimpering as they came.

Now of a sudden Beltane checked in his career, swerved, swung the plunging roan, and with long blade agleam, rode in upon the racing pack to meet their rush with deadly point and deep-biting edge; a slavering hound launched itself at his throat, its fangs clas.h.i.+ng on the stout links of his camail, but as the great beast hung thus, striving to drag him from the saddle, down came the mace of Sir Fidelis and the snarling beast fell to be crushed 'neath the trampling hoofs of the war-horse Mars. And now did the mighty roan prove himself a very Mars indeed, for, beset round about by fierce, lean shapes that crouched and leapt with cruel, gleaming fangs, he stamped and reared and fought them off, neighing loud defiance. Thus, with las.h.i.+ng hoof, with whirling mace and darting sword fought they, until of the hounds there none remained save three that limped painfully to cover, licking their hurts as they went.

But other foes were near, for as Beltane reined his snorting steed about, he swayed in his stirrups 'neath the shock of a cross-bow bolt that glanced, whirring, from his bascinet, and in that moment Sir Fidelis cried aloud: