"Not so," cried one, a great, red-headed rogue, "we have fought to pleasure thee--now is our turn--"
"Loose me these women!" cried Beltane, his blue eyes fierce.
"Nay, these be our booty, and no man shall gainsay us. How think ye, comrades?"
Now Beltane smiled upon this red-haired knave and, smiling, drew a slow pace nearer, the great axe a-swing in his mailed hand.
"Fellow," quoth he, kind-voiced, "get thee out now, lest I slay thee!" Awhile the fellow glared upon Beltane, beheld his smiling look and deadly eye, and slowly loosing his trembling captive, turned and strode out, muttering as he went. Then spake Beltane to the shrinking women, yet even so his blue eyes looked upon none of them. Quoth he: "Ye are free to go whither ye will. Take what ye will, none shall gainsay you, but get you gone within this hour, for in the hour Garthlaxton shall be no more."
Then beckoning Walkyn he bade him choose six men, and turning to the women-"These honourable men shall bring you safe upon your way--haste you to be gone. And should any ask how Garthlaxton fell, say, 'twas by the hand of God, as a sure and certain sign that Pentavalon shall yet arise to smite evil from her borders. Say also that he that spake you this was one Beltane, son of Beltane the Strong, heretofore Duke of Pentavalon." Thus said Beltane unto these women, his brows knit, and with eyes that looked aside from each and every, and so went forth of the chapel.