Beltane the Smith Part 68

"Master," quoth he, yet upon his knees and viewing Beltane somewhat askance, "here is the best I can do for such as yon Gurth; will't suffice, think ye?"

"Aye, 'twill serve, Roger. But, for the other matter--"

"Why see you, master, a man may freely speak his dear desires within his prayers--more especially when his prayers are potent, as mine.

Moreover I warned thee--I warned thee I would pray for thee--and pray for thee I have." Now hereupon Beltane rose somewhat hastily and turned his back, what time Roger sheathed his sword.

Then spake Beltane, turning him to the pool again:

"We had store of tools and mattocks, I mind me. Go and look within the caves if there be ever a one left, for now must we bury this poor clay."

"Ha, must we pray for him--_and_ bury him, master?"

"And bury him, Roger."

Then Roger sighed and shook his head and so left Beltane, who fell again to profound meditation; but of a sudden hearing a cry, he turned to behold Roger running very fleetly, who, coming near, caught him by the arm and sought to drag him away.

"Run!" he panted, "run, master--I ha' just seen a goblin--run, master!"

Now beholding the terror in Roger's eyes, Beltane unsheathed his sword.

"Show me, Roger," said he.

"Nay, lord--of what avail? Let's away, this place is rank o' deviltries and witchcraft--"

"Show me, Roger--come!"

Perforce, Roger led the way, very heedful to avoid each patch of shadow, until they were come opposite that cave where aforetime Beltane had been customed to sleep. Here Roger paused.

"Master," he whispered, "there is a thing within that groaneth-- goblin-groans, master. A thing very like unto a goblin, for I ha' seen it --a pale thing that creepeth--holy saints, 'tis here again--hark to it!"

And in very truth Beltane heard a sound the which, soft though it was, checked his breath and chilled his flesh; and, as he peered into the gloomy recesses of the cavern, there moved something vague amid the shadows, something that rose up slow and painfully.

Roger was down gasping on his knees, Beltane's hand was tight-clenched upon the hilt of his sword, as out into the moonlight crept one, very bent and feeble, shrouded in a long grey cloak; a pitiful figure, that, leaning a hand upon the rock, slowly raised a drooping head. Then Beltane saw that this was the witch Jolette.

A while she stood thus, one hand supporting her against the rocky bank, the other hid within the folds of her long mantle.

"O my lord!" said she, low-voiced, "all day long my heart hath been calling--calling to thee; so art come at last--thanks be to G.o.d--O my lord Beltane!"

Now as she spake, she reached out a hand to him so that the shrouding mantle fell away; then, beholding what it had hid, Beltane let fall his sword, and leaping forward, caught her within his arm.

"Ah!--thou'rt hurt!" he cried.

"My lord, I--strove to bind it up--I am cunning in herbs and simples-- but my hurt is too deep for any leechcraft. To-night--soon--I must die.

Lay me down, I pray thee. Thine arms are strong, lord Beltane, and-- very gentle. How, dost grieve for a witch, lord--for poor Jolette? Nay, comfort ye--my life has been none so sweet I should dread to lose it."

"How cometh this?" he questioned gently, on his knees beside her.

"'Twas the Red Pertolepe's men--nay, messire, they have but killed me.

But O, my dear lord--heed me well. A week agone lord Pertolepe marched hither seeking thee with a great company led by yon Gurth. And when he found thee not he hanged Gurth, yet tarried here awhile. Then I, knowing a secret path hither that none else do know, came and hearkened to their councils. So do I know that he is marched for Winisfarne--"

"Ha, is this so!" cried Beltane, clenching his fist, "then will he hang and burn!"

"Aye, 'tis like enough, messire. But--O heed me! He goeth for a deeper purpose--list, Beltane--O list--he goeth to seize upon the n.o.ble and saintly Abbess Veronica--to bear her captive unto Pentavalon city, there to hold her hostage for--for thee, Beltane--for thee!"

"How mean you?"

"When he hath her safe, Duke Ivo, because he hath learned to fear thee at last, will send envoys to thee demanding thou shalt yield up to him the town of Belsaye and thy body to his mercy, or this fair and n.o.ble lady Abbess shall be shamed and dishonoured, and know a death most dire. And--ah! because thou art the man thou art, thou must needs yield thyself to Ivo's cruel hands, and Belsaye to flame and ravishment."

"Not so," answered Beltane, frowning, "within Belsaye are many women and children also, nor should these die that one might live, saintly abbess though she be."

Now hereupon the witch Jolette raised herself, and set her two hands pa.s.sionately on Beltane's shoulders, and looked upon him great-eyed and fearful.

"Ah, Beltane--Beltane, my lord!" she panted, "but that I am under a vow, now could I tell thee a thing would fire thy soul to madness--but, O believe, believe, and know ye this--when Duke Ivo's emba.s.sy shall tell thee all, thou--shalt suffer them to take thee--thou shalt endure bonds and shame and death itself. So now thou shalt swear to a dying woman that thou wilt not rest nor stay until thou shalt free this lady Abbess, for on her safety doth hang thy life and the freedom of Pentavalon. Swear, O swear me this, my lord Beltane, so shall I die in peace. Swear--O swear!"

Now, looking within her glowing eyes, feeling the tremble of her pa.s.sionate-pleading hands, Beltane bowed his head.

"I swear!" said he.

"So now may G.o.d hear--this thy oath, and I--die in peace--"

And saying this, Jolette sank in his arms and lay a while as one that swoons; but presently her heavy eyes unclosed and on her lips there dawned a smile right wondrous to behold, so marvellous tender was it.

"I pray thee, lord, unhelm--that I may see thee--once again--thy golden hair--"

Wondering, but nothing speaking, Beltane laid by his bascinet, threw back his mail-coif, and bent above her low and lower, until she might reach up and touch those golden curls with failing hand.

"Lord Beltane!--boy!" she whispered, "stoop lower, mine eyes fail.

Hearken, O my heart! Even as thy strong arms do cradle me, so--have these arms--held thee, O little Beltane, I--have borne thee oft upon my heart--ere now. Oft have hushed thee to rosy sleep--upon this bosom.

'Twas from--these arms Sir Benedict caught thee on--that woeful day.

For I that die here--against thy heart, Beltane--am Jolette, thy foster-mother--wilt thou--kiss me--once?"

So Beltane stooped and kissed her, and, when he laid her down, Jolette the witch was dead.

Full long Beltane knelt, absorbed in prayer, and as he prayed, he wept.

So long knelt he thus, that at last cometh Roger, treading soft and reverently, and touched him.

"Master!" he whispered.

Then Beltane arose as one that dreams and stood a while looking down upon that pale and placid face, on whose silent lips the wondrous smile still lingered. But of a sudden, Roger's fingers grasped his arm.

"Master!" he whispered again. Thereon Beltane turned and thus he saw that Roger looked neither on him nor on the dead and that he pointed with shaking finger. Now, glancing whither he pointed, Beltane beheld, high on the bank above them, a mounted knight armed cap-a-pie, who stared down at them through closed visor--a fierce and war-like figure looming gigantic athwart the splendour of the sinking moon. And even as they stared in wonder, a broad shield flashed, and knight and horse were gone.

CHAPTER LIV

HOW BELTANE FOUGHT WITH A DOUGHTY STRANGER