"Ha, Yolande!" he cried, "in the golden days thou wert ever fond of a goodly trout fresh caught and broiled upon a fire of--"
"Benedict!" cried the Abbess, and, all forgetful of his hurt, caught him by his wounded arm, "O Sir Benedict!" Now, man of iron though he seemed, Sir Benedict must needs start and flinch beneath her hold and grow livid by reason of the sharp pain of it; whereat she loosed him of a sudden and fell away, white hands tight clasped together.
"Ah Benedict!--I have hurt thee--again!" she panted.
"Not so, 'twas when I landed the fish--my lady Abbess!" Now at this she turned away and standing thus awhile very silent, presently raised her hand, whereat came two of her gentle nuns.
"Dear my daughters," said she, "take now Sir Benedict unto the camp and look to his hurt, anoint it as ye have seen me do. Go!"
Nothing speaking, Sir Benedict bowed him humbly to the stately Abbess and went away between the two white-robed sisters and so was gone.
Slowly the Abbess turned to Beltane who had risen and was regarding her with a new and strange intensity, and meeting that look, her own glance wavered, sank, and she stood awhile gazing down into the murmurous waters; and as she stood thus, aware of his deep-searching eyes, into her pale cheek crept a flush that deepened and ever deepened.
"My lord," said she, very low and placid-seeming, "why dost thou look on me so?"
And for all her stately calm, her hand, which had clenched itself upon the silver crucifix, was woefully a-tremble. "What--is it--my lord Beltane?"
"A thought, noble lady."
"What is thy thought?"
"Lady, 'tis this--that, an I might find a mother such as thee, then would I pay her homage on my knees, and love her and honour her for what I do know her, praying God to make me worthy--!" So saying, he came a step towards her, faltered, stopped, and reached out appealing hands to her.
From red to white and from white to red again the colour flushed in cheek and brow while the Abbess hearkened to his words; then she looked on him with proud head uplifted and in her eyes a great and wondrous light, quick and passionate her slim hands came out to meet his-A sudden clamour in the air! A clash of arms! A running of swift feet and Walkyn sprang betwixt them, his face grimed with dust and sweat, his armour gone, his great axe all bloody in his hand: "Master!" he cried, "in Winisfarne lieth Pertolepe with over a thousand of his company, I judge--and in the woods 'twixt here and Winisfarne is Hollo of Revelsthorne marching on us through the woods with full five thousand of Ivo's picked levies, new come from Barham Broom!"