pur!" shouted Beltane above the gathering
din, and shouting, drew his sword, for now before them, steel glittered
and cries rang upon the air:

"'Tis Beltane the outlaw! Seize him--slay him! 'Tis the outlaw!"

But knee and knee, with loose rein and goading spur rode they, and
nought could avail and none were quick enough to stay that headlong
gallop; side by side they thundered over the ling, and knee and knee
they leapt the barrier, bursting through bewildered soldiery,
scattering frighted country-folk, and so away, over gorse and heather
and with arrows, drawn at a venture, whistling by them. Betimes they
reached the shelter of the woods, and turning, Beltane beheld a
confusion of armed men, a-horse and a-foot, what time borne upon the
air came a sound hoarse and menacing, a sound dreadful to hear--the
sound of the hue and cry.

CHAPTER XL

FURTHER CONCERNING THE MAID MELLENT; AND OF THE HUE AND CRY

Fast they galloped 'neath the trees, stooping ever and anon to avoid
some low-swung branch; through grassy rides and sunny glades, until all
sound of pursuit was died away. So, turning aside into the denser
green, Beltane stayed, and sprang down to tighten the great roan's
saddle-girths, strained in the encounter. Now as he was busied thus,
came the maid Mellent, very pale 'neath her long black hair, and spake
him low-voiced and humble:

"My lord Beltane, thou, at peril of thy body, hath saved to-day a
sorrowful maid from the fiery torment. So to prove my gratitude and
sorrow for past ill--now will I tell thee that in saving me, thou hast
saved one that for ambition's sake, once did thee grievous wrong."

"Thou!" saith Beltane, staring in amaze, "ne'er hast thou seen me until
this day!"

"Verily, messire--O messire, thou hast indeed seen me ere this and--to
my bitter sorrow--for I who speak am the lady Winfrida--"

"Nay--nay--" stammered Beltane, "here is thing impossible--thy
night-black hair--"

"'Tis but a wile that many women do know, messire, a device of the
witch Jolette (that is no witch, but a noble woman) a device whereby I
might lie hid awhile. O indeed, indeed I who speak to thee am the
wicked Winfrida--Winfrida the Sorrowful!" Now herewith she sank before
him on her knees and bowed her face within her hands, and Beltane saw
that she trembled greatly. "My lord," she whispered, "now must I
confess a thing beyond all words shameful, and though I fear death, I
fear thy anger more. If, therefore,