ater, once, methinks!"

"Aye," nodded Beltane, "there was him men called 'Beltane the Strong.'"

"Ha!" quoth Sir Benedict, setting down his milk-bowl, "what know you
of Duke Beltane?"

"Nought but that he was a great and lusty fighter who yet loved peace
and mercy, but truth and justice most of all."

"And to-day," sighed Sir Benedict, "to-day we have Black Ivo! Aye me!
these be sorry days for Pentavalon. 'Tis said he woos the young Duchess
yonder. Hast ever seen Helen of Mortain, sir smith?"

"Nay, but I've heard tell that she is wondrous fair."

"Hum!" quoth Sir Benedict, "I love not your red-haired spit-fires.
Methinks, an Ivo win her, she'll lead him how she will, or be broke in
the adventure--a malison upon him, be it how it may!"

So, having presently made an end of eating, Sir Benedict arose and
forthwith donned quilted gambeson, and thereafter his hauberk of bright
mail and plain surcoat, and buckling his sword about him, strode into
the glade where stood the great grey horse. Now, being mounted, Sir
Benedict stayed awhile to look down at Beltane, whiles Beltane looked
up at him.

"Messire Beltane," said he, pointing to his scarred cheek, "you look
upon my scar, I think?"

Quoth Beltane, flushing hot:

"Nay, sir; in truth, not I."

"Why look now, sweet youth, 'tis a scar that likes me well, though
'twas in no battle I took it, yet none the less, I would not be without
it. By this I may be known among a thousand. 'Benedict o' the Mark,'
some call me, and 'tis, methinks, as fair a name as any. But look now,
and mark me this well, Beltane,--should any come to thee within the
green, by day or night, and say to thee, 'Benedict o' the Mark bids
thee arise and follow,'--then follow, messire, and so, peradventure,
thou shalt arise indeed. Dost mark me well, youth?"

"Aye, Sir Benedict."

"Heigho!" sighed Sir Benedict, "thou'rt a fair sized babe to bear
within a cloak, and thou hast been baptized in blood ere now--and there
be more riddles for thee, boy, and so, until we meet, fare thee well,
messire Beltane!"

So saying, Sir Benedict of Bourne smiled his twisted smile and,
wheeling his horse, rode away down the glade, his mail glistening in
the early light and his lance point winking and twinkling amid the
green.

CHAPTER II

HOW BELTANE HAD WORD WITH THE DUKE, BLACK IVO

Now it fell out upon a day, that as Beltane strode the forest ways,
there met him a fine cavalcade, gay with the stir of