"Nay, my faithful Roger, never fear, here is no witchcraft. 'Tis but that within the hour the blind doth see, the fool hath got him some little wisdom."
"Master, how mean you?"
"This night, Roger, I have learned this great truth: that white can never be black, nor day night, nor truth lie--and here is great matter for thought, wherefore as I walk, I think."
Now hereupon Black Roger halted and looked upon Beltane glad-eyed.
"Lord," he cried, "is it that ye do know the very truth at last--of Sir Fidelis--that glorious lady, thy Duchess Helen?"
"Aye, the very truth at last, Roger."
"Ha!--'tis so I petitioned the good Saint Cuthbert this very night!"
"And lo! he hath answered thy prayer, Roger."
"Verily he regardeth poor Roger these days, master, e'en though my belt doth yet bear many accursed notches."
"They shall be fewer anon, Roger; there be many poor souls for thee to save in woeful Pentavalon."
Hereafter went they a while in silence, until of a sudden Roger halted and clapped hand to thigh.
"Master, we go the wrong way, methinks."
"Not so, we be close upon the forest road, Roger."
"But thou dost know her faithful, master, pure and holy in mind and body--at sure of this at last!"
"Aye," sighed Beltane, "at last!"
"Why then, lord, let us incontinent seek her out."
"She is in for Mortain, Roger, moreover--"
"Nay, master, forsooth she is--hum! aye, she's in Mortain, mayhap, but 'tis none so far to Mortain for such legs as thine and mine. And belike we may--chance upon her by the way, or--or she with us, or both!"
"Even so, needs must I to my duty."
"Thy duty!--aye, master--thy duty is to woo her, wed her, take her to thy arms and--"
"I tell thee, Roger, ne'er will I speak word of love to her until I have proved myself in some sense fit and worthy. First will I free Pentavalon as I did swear--"
"Nay, master, wed first thy Duchess, so shall she aid thee in thy vows, and thereafter--"
"Enough!" cried Beltane, "think ye 'tis so easy to thus gainsay the love that burns me? But shame were it that I, beggared in fortune, my friends few, should wed her in my dire need, dragging thereby peaceful Mortain to mine aid and the bloody arbitrament of battle. Moreover, hast forgot the oath I sware--that nought henceforth should let or stay me?"
"Master," sighed Roger, "there be times, methinks, thou dost swear over-many oaths. Art man and woman full of youth and love, wherefore not marry? Wherefore heed a vow here or there? Needs must I wrestle with the good Saint Cuthbert in the matter."