em these four days, and scarce a quarrel."

ROGER. "Aye, this comes of my lord. My master hath a wondrous tongue,
Giles."

GILES. "My brother-in-arms hath a wondrous strong fist, Rogerkin--"

ROGER. "Thy brother-in-arms, archer? Thine, forsooth! Ha!"

GILES. "Snort not, my gentle Roger, for I fell in company with him ere
he knew aught of thee--so thy snort availeth nothing, my Rogerkin.
Howbeit, our snarling wolves do live like tender lambs these days, the
which doth but go to prove how blessed a thing is a fist--a fist, mark
you, strong to strike, big to buffet, and swift to smite: a capable
fist, Roger, to strike, buffet and smite a man to the good of his
soul."

ROGER. "In sooth my master is a noble knight, ne'er shall we see his
equal. And yet, Giles, methinks he doth mope and grieve these days. He
groweth pale-cheeked and careworn, harsh of speech and swift to anger.
Behold him now!" and Roger pointed to where Beltane sat apart (as was
become his wont of late) his axe betwixt his knees, square chin propped
upon clenched fist, scowling into the fire that burned before his
sleeping-cave.

"Whence cometh the so great change in him, think you, Giles?"

"For that, while I am I and he is himself, thou art but what thou art,
my Rogerkin--well enough after thy fashion, mayhap, but after all
thou art only thyself."

"Ha!" growled Roger, "and what of thee, archer?"

"I am his brother-in-arms, Rogerkin, and so know him therefore as a
wondrous lord, a noble knight, a goodly youth and a sweet lad. Some
day, when I grow too old to bear arms, I will to pen and ink-horn and
will make of him a ballade that shall, mayhap, outlive our time. A
notable ballade, something on this wise:--

"Of gentle Beltane I will tell,
A knight who did all knights excel,
Who loved of all men here below
His faithful Giles that bare the bow;
For Giles full strong and straight could shoot,
A goodly man was Giles to boot.

A lusty fighter sure was Giles
In counsel sage and full of wiles.
And Giles was handsome, Giles was young,
And Giles he had a merry--"

"How now, Roger, man--wherefore interrupt me?"

"For that there be too many of Giles hereabouts, and one Giles talketh
enough for twenty. So will I to Walkyn that seldom talketh enough for
one."

So saying Roger arose, donned his shirt of mail and, buckling his sword
about him, strode incontinent away.

And in a while Beltane arose also, and climbing on