you me not, messire?" quoth he.

"Why," said Sir Jocelyn, knitting delicate brows, "surely thou art the
forester that o'ercame Duke Ivo's wrestler; aye, by the silver feet of
lovely Thetis, thou'rt Beltane the Smith!"

"Verily, messire," nodded Beltane, "and 'tis not meet that knight cross
blade with lowly smith."

"Ha!" quoth Sir Jocelyn, rubbing at his smooth white chin, "yet art a
goodly man withal--and lover to boot--methinks?"

"Aye," sighed Beltane, "ever and always."

"Why then, all's well," quoth Sir Jocelyn with eyes a-dance, "for since
true love knoweth nought of distinctions, therefore being lovers are
we peers, and, being peers, so may we fight together. So come, Sir
Smith, here stand I sword in hand to maintain 'gainst thee and all men
the fame and honour of her I worship, of all women alive, maid or wife
or widow, the fairest, noblest, truest, and most love-worthy is--"

"Helen of Mortain!" quoth Beltane, sighing.

"Helen?--Helen?--thou too!" exclaimed Sir Jocelyn, and forthwith
dropped his sword, staring in stark amaze. "How--dost thou love her
also?"

"Aye," sighed Beltane, "to my sorrow!"

Then stooped Sir Jocelyn and, taking up his sword, slowly sheathed it.
Quoth he, sad-eyed:

"Life, methinks, is full of disappointments; farewell to thee, Sir
Smith," and sighing, he turned away; yet ere he had taken lance and
shield, Beltane spake:

"Whither away, Sir Jocelyn?"

"To sigh, and sing, and seek adventure. 'Twas for this I left my goodly
castle of Alain and journeyed, a lorn pilgrim, hither to Pentavalon,
since when strange stories have I heard that whisper in the air,
speeding from lip to lip, of a certain doughty knight-at-arms, valiant
beyond thought, that beareth a sword whose mighty sweep none may abide,
who, alone and unaided slew an hundred and twenty and four within the
greenwood, and thereafter, did, 'neath the walls of Belsaye town burn
down Duke Ivo's gibbet, who hath sworn to cut Duke Ivo into gobbets,
look you, and feed him to the dogs; which is well, for I love not Duke
Ivo. All this have I heard and much beside, idle tales mayhap, yet
would I seek out this errant Mars and prove him, for mine own behoof,
with stroke of sword."

"And how an he prove worthy?" questioned Beltane.

"Then will I ride with him, to share his deeds and glory mayhap, Sir
Smith--I and all the ten-score lusty fellows that muster to my pennon,
since in the air is whispered talk of war, and Sir Benedict