"Yolande!" said he, hoarse-voiced and low.
"Benedict!" she murmured.
Slowly Sir Benedict bowed his head, and turning, laid his hand on Beltane's mailed shoulder.
"Lady," said he, "behold here Beltane--that is son to Beltane heretofore Duke and Lord of Pentavalon!"
"Ah!" she whispered, "Beltane!" and of a sudden stretched out her arms in passionate yearning gesture, then, covering her face, sank upon her knees, "God pity me!" she sighed, "God pity me!" Thereafter she rose to her stately height and looked on Beltane, gentle and calm-eyed.
"My lord Beltane," said she, "I have heard tell thou art a noble knight, strong yet gentle--so should thy father be greatly blessed in thee--and thy--mother also. God have thee ever in His keeping-- Beltane!"
Now as she spake the name her soft voice brake, and turning, she stood with head bowed upon her hands, and standing thus, spake again, deep-voiced and soft: "Sir Benedict, we are come to minister to the hurt, all is prepared within the tower, let them be brought to us I pray, and--my lord, forget not the sacred oath thou didst swear me--long years agone!"