atched of a sudden from the horror of death to
the hope of new life, follow on stumbling feet, out from the noisome
gloom of the dungeon, out from the clammy air breathing of death, up
the narrow winding stair; and with each step came strength and manhood.
Thus as they strode forth of the frowning keep, each man bore sword or
gisarm. So, with breath in cheek, but hearts high-beating, they came
one and all, to where the slimy stair led down into the gloom. Yet here
Friar Martin paused, sighing, to look behind, whence rose the distant
hum of those thronging townsfolk who yet crowded wall and street and
market square to watch the gallows burn.

"Now sweet Christ shield ye, good people of Belsaye!" he sighed.

"What mean ye, my brother?" questioned Beltane.

"Alas! my son," groaned the friar, "I needs must think upon the coming
day and of the vengeance of Sir Gui for this our work!"

"His vengeance, friar?"

"There will be torture and death busy hereabouts tomorrow, my son,
for, the prisoners being gone, so will Sir Gui vent his anger on the
townsfolk--'tis ever his custom--"

"Ha!" quoth my Beltane, knitting his brows, "I had not thought on
this!"--and with the word, he turned him back, drawing on his hood of
mail.

"Come, lord," whispered Black Roger in his ear, "let us be going while
yet we may."

"Aye, come, my son," spake the friar, low-voiced. "Tarry not, Belsaye
is in the hand of God! Nay, what would you?"

"I must go back," said Beltane, loosening sword in scabbard, "for needs
must I this night have word with Gui of Allerdale."

"Nay," whispered the friar, with pleading hand on Beltane's arm, "'tis
thing impossible--"

"Yet must I try, good brother--"

"Ah, dear my son, 'twill be thy death--"

"Why look you, gentle friar, I am in Belsaye, and Belsaye 'is in the
hand of God!' So fear not for me, but go you all and wait for me beyond
the river. And, if I come not within the hour, then press on with speed
for Thrasfordham within Bourne, and say to Sir Benedict that, while
_he_ liveth to draw sword, so is there hope for Pentavalon. But now--
quick!--where lodgeth Sir Gui?"

"Within the keep--there is a stair doth mount within the thickness of
the wall--nay, I will be thy guide if go indeed thou must--"

"Not so, good friar, be it thy duty to lead these prisoners to freedom
and to safety within Bourne."

"Then will I come," whispered Roger hoarse and eager, as the friar
turned slow-footed to follow t