lied hereabouts, mayhap, oho! 'Caw,' they shall cry, 'Caw--
give us to eat--fair white flesh!' Yet how may they eat when the
gallows is no more?"

Thus spake he with shrill laughter while Beltane laboured until the
sweat ran from him, while Walkyn's great axe flashed and fell near by
and steel glittered among the underbrush that clothed the slopes of the
hill.

Very soon they had stacked great piles of kindling about the gallows'
weather-beaten timbers--twigs below, faggots above--cunningly ordered
and higher than Beltane's head. Now as Beltane leaned upon his sword to
wipe the sweat from his eyes, came Roger and Walkyn yet panting from
their labour.

"Master," said Roger, "they should burn well, I trow, and yet--"

"And yet," quoth Walkyn, "these beams be thick: methinks, when the
others go, one man should stay to tend the fires until the flame gets
fair hold--"

"And that man I!" said Roger.

"No, no," frowned Walkyn, "an one of us must die, it shall be me--"

But now came the ancient man, leaning upon his ancient weapon.

"No, children," said he, "'tis for age to die--death is sweet to the
old and weary: so will I tend the fire. Yet, beseech thee, grant me
this: that these my hands shall fire the gallows whereon they hanged my
son, long ago: young was he, and tall--scarce yet a man--they hanged
him yonder, so high--so high--so far beyond my care: and the carrion
birds--kites, see you, and crows--and the wind and rain and dark--Ah,
God! my son! I am but an old man and feeble, yet, beseech thee, let
this be the hand to fire Black Ivo's gibbet!"

Then Beltane took from his pouch flint and steel and tinder and gave
them to the old man's trembling fingers as Giles o' the Bow came
running with the stalwart friar behind him.

So, while the five stood hushed and wide of eye, the old man knelt
before them in his rags and struck flint to steel. Once he struck, and
twice--and behold a spark that leapt to a small flame that died to a
glow; but now, flat upon his belly lay Giles and, pursing his lips,
puffed and blew until the glow brightened, spread, and burst into a
crackling flame that leapt from twig to twig. And when the fire waxed
hot, Beltane took thence a glowing brand, and, coming to the other
great pile, fired it therewith. Up rose the flames high and higher
until they began to lick, pale-tongued, about the gibbet's two great
supporting timbers, and ever as they rose, Walkyn and Roger, Giles and
the friar,