he others adown the slippery stair,
"beseech thee, lord, thy man am I, twice sworn to thee till death, so
suffer me beside thee."

"Nay," said Beltane, "Pentavalon's need of thee is greater e'en than
mine, therefore will I adventure this thing alone. Go you with the
friar, my Roger, and so farewell to each."

"God keep thee, noble son!" whispered the friar, his hand upraised in
blessing: but Roger stood, chin on breast and spake no word.

Then Beltane turned him and sped away, soft-treading in the shadow of
the great keep.

The waning moon cast shadows black and long, and in these shadows
Beltane crept and so, betimes, came within the outer guard-room and to
the room beyond; and here beheld a low-arched doorway whence steps led
upward,--a narrow stair, gloomy and winding, whose velvet blackness
was stabbed here and there by moonlight, flooding through some deep-set
arrow-slit. Up he went, and up, pausing once with breath in check,
fancying he heard the stealthy sound of one who climbed behind him in
the black void below; thus stayed he a moment, with eyes that strove to
pierce the gloom, and with naked dagger clenched to smite, yet heard
nought, save the faint whisper of his own mail, and the soft tap of his
long scabbard against the wall; wherefore he presently sped on again,
climbing swiftly up the narrow stair. Thus, in a while, he beheld a
door above: a small door, yet stout and strong, a door that stood ajar,
whence came a beam of yellow light.

So, with sure and steady hand, Beltane set wide the door, that creaked
faintly in the stillness, and beheld a small, square chamber where was
a narrow window, and, in this window, a mail-clad man lolled, his
unhelmed head thrust far without, to watch the glow that leapt against
the northern sky.

Then Beltane sheathed his dagger and, in three long strides was close
behind, and, stooping above the man, sought and found his hairy throat,
and swung him, mighty-armed, that his head struck the wall; then
Beltane, sighing, laid him upon the floor and turned toward a certain
arras-hung arch: but, or ever his hand came upon this curtain, from
beyond a voice hailed--a voice soft and musical.

"Hugo--O Hugo, spawn of hell, hither to me!"

Then Beltane, lifting the curtain, opened the door and, striding into
the chamber beyond, closed and barred the door behind him, and so
stood, tall and menacing, looking on one who sat at a table busied with
pen and ink-horn. A slender man