s of the wall, and
along a passage that ended abruptly, nor could Beltane see any sign of
door in the solid masonry that barred their way. Here Beda paused,
finger on lip, and extinguished the lanthorn. Then, in the dark a hinge
creaked faintly, a quivering hand seized Beltane's manacled wrist,
drawing him on and through a narrow opening that yawned suddenly before
them. Thereafter the hinge creaked again and they stood side by side
within a small chamber where was a doorway hung across with heavy
curtains beyond which a light burned. Now even as Beltane looked
thitherward, he heard the rattle of dice and a sleepy voice that cursed
drowsily, and shaking off the clutching, desperate fingers that strove
to stay him, he came, soft-treading, and peered through the curtains.
Thus he beheld two men that faced each other across a table whereon was
wine, with dice and store of money, and as they played, these men
yawned, leaning heavily upon the table. Back swept the curtains and
striding into the room Beltane stared upon these men, who, yet leaning
upon the table, stared back at him open-mouthed. But, beholding the
look in his blue eyes and the smile that curled his mouth, they
stumbled to their feet and sought to draw weapon--then Beltane sprang
and caught them each about the neck, and, swinging them wide-armed,
smote their heads together; and together these men sank in his grasp
and lay in a twisted huddle across the table among the spilled wine. A
coin rang upon the stone floor, rolled into a distant corner and came
to rest, the jester gasped in the shadow of the curtains; and so came
silence, broke only by the soft drip, drip of the spilled wine.

"O, mercy of God!" whispered the jester hoarsely at last, "what need
was there for this--they would have slept--"

"Aye," smiled Beltane, "but not so soundly as now, methinks. Come, let
us go."

Silently the jester went on before, by narrow passage-ways that
writhed and twisted in the thickness of the walls, up sudden flights of
steps until at length they came out upon a parapet whose grim
battlements scowled high in air. But as they hasted on, flitting
soft-footed 'neath pallid moon, the jester of a sudden stopped, and
turning, dragged Beltane into the shadows, for upon the silence came the
sound of mailed feet pacing near. Now once again Beltane brake from the
jester's clutching fingers and striding forward, came face to face with
one that bare a pike on mailed shoulder, and