ertolepe's foresters--behold his badge!"

But Beltane laughed, fierce-eyed.

"How, bowman, dost blench before a badge, then? I was too meek and
gentle for thee ere this, but now, if thou'rt afraid--get you gone!"

"Art surely mad!" quoth Giles. "The saints be my witness here was no
act of mine!" So saying he turned away and hasted swift-footed through
the green. Now when the bowman was gone, Beltane turned him to the
hairy man who yet kneeled beside the body of the woman. Said he:

"Good fellow, is there aught I may do for thee?"

"Wife and child--and dead!" the man muttered, "child and wife--and
dead! A week ago, my brother--and now, the child, and then the wife!
Child and wife and brother--and dead!" Then Beltane came, minded to aid
him with the woman, but the hairy man sprang before her, swinging his
great staff and muttering in his beard; therefore Beltane, sick at
heart, turned him away. And, in a while, being come to the road once
more, he became aware that he yet grasped his sword and beheld its
bright steel dimmed here and there with blood, and, as he gazed, his
brow grew dark and troubled.

"'Tis thus have I made beginning," he sighed, "so now, God aiding me,
ne'er will I rest 'till peace be come again and tyranny made an end
of!"

Then, very solemnly, did my Beltane kneel him beside the way and
lifting the cross hilt of his sword to heaven kissed it, and thereafter
rose. And so, having cleansed the steel within the earth, he sheathed
the long blade and went, slowfooted, upon his way.

CHAPTER VIII

HOW BELTANE HELD DISCOURSE WITH A BLACK FRIAR

The sun was high, and by his shadow Beltane judged it the noon hour;
very hot and very still it was, for the wind had died and leaf and twig
hung motionless as though asleep. And presently as he went, a sound
stole upon the stillness, a sound soft and beyond all things pleasant
to hear, the murmurous ripple of running water near by. Going aside
into the green therefore, Beltane came unto a brook, and here, screened
from the sun 'neath shady willows, he laid him down to drink, and to
bathe face and hands in the cool water.

Now as he lay thus, staring sad-eyed into the hurrying waters of the
brook, there came to him the clicking of sandalled feet, and glancing
up, he beheld one clad as a black friar. A fat man he was, jolly of
figure and mightily round; his nose was bulbous and he had a drooping
lip.

"Peace be unto thee, my son!" quoth he, breathing s