"And wherefore at moonrise?"
"'Tis at this sweet hour your minstrel singeth best. Aye me, and to-night there is a moon!" Hereupon Beltane must needs turn to scowl upon the moon just topping the distant woods. Now as they sat thus, cometh Roger with bread and meat for his lord's acceptance; but Beltane, setting it aside, stared on Roger with baleful eye.
"Roger," said he, "wherefore hast avoided me this day?"
"Avoided thee, master--I?"
"And what did you this morning in the Reeve's garden?"
"Master, in this big world are two beings that I do truly love, and thou art one and the other Sir Fidelis thy right sweet and noble lady-- so is it my joy to serve her when I may, thus daily do I go aid her with the sick."
"And what of him that singeth; saw you this troubadour within the garden?"
"Troubadour?" quoth Roger, staring.
"Why verily," nodded Giles, "my lord meaneth the tall and goodly fellow in the cloak of blue camlet, Roger."
"Ne'er have I seen one in blue cloak!" said Roger, "and this do I swear!"
"None the less," said Beltane, rising, "I will seek him there myself."
"At moonrise, lord?" questioned Giles.
"Aye," said Beltane grimly; "at moonrise!" and scowling he turned away.
"Aha!" quoth Giles, nudging Roger with roguish elbow, "it worketh, Roger, it worketh!"
"Aye, Giles, it worketh so well that an my master get his hands on this singing fellow--then woe betide this singing fellow, say I."