"That will I!" cried Eric, falling upon his knee.
"And I! And I!" cried others, and so came they to crowd eagerly about Beltane, to touch his hand or the links of his bright mail.
"Lead us!" they cried, "come--lead us!"
"Nay first--hearken! From henceforth outlaws are ye none. Come now, one and all, draw, and swear me on your swords:--To make your strength a shelter to the weak; to smite henceforth but in honourable cause for freedom, for justice and Pentavalon--swear me upon your swords to abide by this oath, and to him that breaks it--Death. Swear!"
So there upon their knees with gleaming swords uplifted, these wild men swore the oath. Then up sprang Walkyn, pointing to Beltane with his axe.
"Brothers!" he cried, "behold a man that doeth such deeds as no man ever did--that burned the gallows--burst ope the dungeon of Belsaye and slew Tostig the mighty with naked hands! Behold Beltane the Duke! Is he not worthy to be our leader--shall we not follow him?" Then came a roar of voices: "Aye--let us follow--let us follow!"
"On, then!" cried Walkyn, his glittering axe aloft. "To Garthlaxton!"
Then from an hundred brawny throats a roar went up to heaven, a cry that hissed through clenched teeth and rang from eager lips, wilder, fiercer than before. And the cry was:-"Garthlaxton!"