"So now will I guide thee back to thine own fair duchy, gentle mistress, for I do tell thee here in Pentavalon shall be woeful days anon. Even as I came, with these two eyes did I behold the black ruin of Duke Ivo's goodly gallows--a woeful sight! And divers tales have I heard of this gallows-burner, how that he did, unaided and alone, seize and bear off upon his shoulders one Sir Pertolepe--called the 'Red'-- Lord Warden of the Marches. So hath Duke Ivo put a price upon his head and decreed that he shall forthright be hunted down, and thereto hath sent runners far and near with his exact description, the which have I heard and can most faithfully repeat an you so desire?"
"Aye me!" sighed the Duchess, a little wearily.
"As thus, lady. Item: calleth himself Beltane, son of Beltane, Duke of Pentavalon that was: Item--"
"Beltane!" said the Duchess, and started.
"Item: he is very tall and marvellous strong. Item: hath yellow hair--"
"Yellow hair!" said the Duchess, and turned to look upon Beltane.
"Item: goeth in chain-mail, and about his middle a broad belt of gold and silver. Item: beareth a great sword whereon is graven the legend-- lady, dost thou attend?--Ha! Saint Martin aid us!" cried Godric, for now, following the Duchess's glance, he beheld Beltane leaning upon his long sword. Then, while Godric stared open-mouthed, the Duchess looked on Beltane, a new light in her eyes and with hands tight clasped, while Beltane looking upon her sighed amain.
"Helen!" he cried, "O Helen, 'tis true that I who am Beltane the Smith, am likewise son of Beltane, Duke of Pentavalon. Behold, the sword I bear is the sword of the Duke my father, nor must I lay it by until wrong is vanquished and oppression driven hence. Thus, see you, I may not stay to love, within my life it must not be--yet-a-while," and speaking, Beltane groaned and bowed his head. So came she to him and looked on him with eyes of yearning, yet touched him not.
"Dear my lord," said she, tender-voiced, "thou should'st make a noble duke, methinks: and yet alas! needs must I love my gentle Beltane the Smith. And I did love him so! Thou art a mighty man-at-arms, my lord, and terrible in war, meseemeth, O--methinks thou wilt make a goodly duke indeed!"
"Mayhap," he answered heavily, "mayhap, an God spare me long enough. But now must I leave thee--"
"Aye, but wherefore?"
"Thou hast heard--I am a hunted man with a price upon my head, by my side goeth death--"
"So will I go also," she murmured, "ever and always beside thee."