"How now, Goliath!" cried he. "Pax vobiscum, and likewise benedicite! Come ye in peace, forsooth, or is it to be bellum internecinum? Though, by St. Giles, which is my patron saint, I care not how it be, for mark ye, vacuus cantat coram latrone viator, Sir Goliath, the which in the vulgar tongue signifieth that he who travels with an empty purse laughs before the footpad--moreover, I have a sword!"
But Beltane laughed, saying: "I have no lust to thy purse, most learned bowman, or indeed to aught of thine unless it be thy company."
"My company?" quoth the bowman, looking Beltane up and down with merry blue eyes, "why now do I know thee for a fellow of rare good judgment, for my company is of the best, in that I have a tongue which loveth to wag in jape or song. Heard ye how the birds and I were a-carolling? A right blithesome morn, methinks, what with my song, and the birds' song, and this poor ass's bells--aye, and the flowers a-peep from the bank yonder. God give ye joy of it, tall brother, as he doth me and this goodly ass betwixt my knees, patient beast."
Now leaning on his quarter-staff Beltane smiled and said: "How came ye by that same ass, master bowman?"
"Well--I met a monk!" quoth the fellow with a gleam of white teeth. "O! a ponderous monk, brother, of most mighty girth of belly! Now, as ye see, though this ass be sleek and fat as an abbot, she is something small. 'And shall so small a thing needs bear so great a mountain o' flesh?' says I (much moved at the sight, brother). 'No, by the blessed bones of St. Giles (which is my patron saint, brother), so thereafter (by dint of a little persuasion, brother) my mountainous monk, to ease the poor beast's back, presently got him down and I, forthwith, got up-- as being more in proportion to her weight, sweet beast! O! surely ne'er saw I fairer morn than this, and never, in so fair a morn, saw I fairer man than thou, Sir Forester, nor taller, and I have seen many men in my day. Wherefore an so ye will, let us company together what time we may; 'tis a solitary road, and the tongue is a rare shortener of distance."
So Beltane strode on beside this garrulous bowman, hearkening to his merry talk, yet himself speaking short and to the point as was ever his custom; as thus: BOWMAN. "How do men call thee, tall brother?"
BELTANE. "Beltane."
BOWMAN. "Ha! 'Tis a good name, forsooth I've heard worse--and yet, forsooth, I've heard better. Yet 'tis a fairish name--'twill serve. As for me, Giles Brabblecombe o' the Hills men call me, for 'twas in the hill country I was born thirty odd years agone. Since then twelve sieges have I seen with skirmishes and onfalls thrice as many. Death have I beheld in many and divers shapes and in experience of wounds and dangers am rich, though, by St. Giles (my patron saint), in little else. Yet do I love life the better, therefore, and I have read that 'to despise gold is to be rich.'"