ghty three with
kindling eye, beckoned them near.

"Lord Jocelyn," said he, "behold here my trusty comrades, valiant men
all:--this, my faithful Roger, surnamed the Black: This, Giles
Brabblecombe, who shooteth as ne'er did archer yet: and here, Walkyn--
who hath known overmuch of sorrow and bitter wrong. Fain would we take
thee for our comrade, Lord Jocelyn, for God knoweth Pentavalon hath
need of true men these days, yet first, know this--that I, and these my
three good comrades do stand pledged to the cause of the weak and
woefully oppressed within this sorrowful Duchy; to smite evil, nor
stay till we be dead, or Black Ivo driven hence."

"Ivo?--Ivo?" stammered Sir Jocelyn, in blank amaze, "'tis madness!"

"Thus," said Beltane, "is our cause, perchance, a little desperate, and
he who companies with us must company with Death betimes." "To defy
Black Ivo--ha, here is madness so mad as pleaseth me right well! A
rebellion, forsooth! How many do ye muster?"

Answered Beltane:

"Thou seest--we be four--"

"Four!" cried Sir Jocelyn, "Four!"

"But Sir Benedict lieth within Thrasfordham Keep, and God is in heaven,
messire."

"Aye, but heaven is far, methinks, and Duke Ivo is near, and hath an
arm long and merciless. Art so weary of life, Sir Smith?"

"Nay," answered Beltane, "but to what end hath man life, save to spend
it for the good of his fellows?"

"Art mad!" sighed Sir Jocelyn, "art surely mad! Heigho!--some day,
mayhap, it shall be written how one Jocelyn Alain, a gentle, love-lorn
knight, singing his woes within the greenwood, did meet four lovely
madmen and straight fell mad likewise. So here, upon my sword, do I
swear to take thee for my brother-in-arms, and these thy comrades for
my comrades, and to spend my life, henceforth, to the good of my
fellows!"

So saying, Sir Jocelyn smiled his quick bright smile and reached out
his hand to my Beltane, and there, leaning upon their swords, their
mailed fingers clasped and wrung each other. Thereafter he turned upon
the three, but even as he did so, Walkyn uttered a fierce cry, and
whirling about with axe aloft, sprang into the green, whence of a
sudden rose a babel of voices, and the sound of fierce blows and,
thereafter, the noise of pursuit. A flicker of steel amid the green--a
score of fierce faces all about him, and Beltane was seized from
behind, borne struggling to his knees, to his face, battered by unseen
weapons, dragged at by unseen hands, choked