A faint glimmer growing ever brighter, a jagged patch of pale sky, a cleft in the rock o'er-grown with bush and creeping vines; this Beltane saw ere he stepped out into the cool, sweet air of dawn. A while he stood to stare up at the sky where yet a few stars showed paling to the day, and to drink in mighty breaths of the fragrant air. And thus, plain to his ears, stole the ripple of running water hard by, and going thitherward he stripped, and naked came down to the stream where was a misty pool and plunged him therein. Now as he bathed him thus, gasping somewhat because of the cold, yet glorying in the rush and tingle of his blood, behold, the leaves parted near by, and uprising in his naked might, Beltane beheld the face of one that watched him intently.
"Master!" cried a voice harsh but very joyful, "O dear, my lord!" And Roger sprang down the bank and heedless of the water, plunged in to catch Beltane's hands and kiss them. "Master!" he cried. And thus it was these two met again. And presently, having donned clothes and harness, Beltane sat down him beside the brook, head upon hand, staring at the swift-running water, whiles Roger, sitting near, watched him in a silent ecstasy.
"Whence come ye, Roger?"
"From Thrasfordham-within-Bourne, lord. Ho, a mighty place, great and strong as Sir Benedict himself. And within Thrasfordham be many lusty fighting men who wait thy coming,--for, master, Bourne, aye and all the Duchy, doth ring with tales of thy deeds."
"Hath Sir Benedict many men?"
"Aye--within Thrasfordham five hundred and more."
"So few, Roger?"
"And mayhap as many again in Bourne. But, for Sir Benedict--a right lusty knight in sooth, master! and he doth hunger for sight of thee. He hath had me, with Walkyn and the archer, speak full oft of how we fired the gibbet and roars mighty laughs to hear how thou didst bear off Sir Pertolepe in the green--aye, Sir Benedict doth love to hear tell of that."
"Aye; and what of Duke Ivo--where is he now, Roger?"
"He hath reinforced Belsaye garrison and all the coast towns and castles of the Marches, and lieth at Pentavalon, gathering his powers to attack Thrasfordham, so men say, and hath sworn to burn it within the year, and all therein save only Sir Benedict--him will he hang; 'tis so proclaimed far and wide."
"And do men yet come in to Sir Benedict?"
"Not so, master. Since Duke Ivo came they are afraid."
"Ha! And what of the outlaws--there be many wild men within the forests."