-treading for all their
weighty armour, and with long blades advanced; then, of a sudden they
closed, and immediately the air shivered to the ring and grind of
flashing, whirling steel. To and fro, and up and down they fought upon
the level sward what time Black Roger rubbed complacent hands,
grim-smiling and confident; and ever as they fought the stranger knight
laughed and gibed, harsh and loud, from behind his grimly casque.

"Ho!--fight, youth, fight!" cried he, "have done with love-taps! Sa-ha,
have at thee--fight, I say!" A panther-like side-leap, a whirl of
glimmering steel, and his long blade smote sparks from Beltane's
bascinet, whereat Roger's smile, incontinent, vanished, and his face
waxed suddenly anxious and long.

But fierce and fiercer the stranger knight beset my Beltane, the while
he lashed him with mocking tongue:

"Call ye this fighting, sir youthful outlaw? Doth thine arm fail thee
so soon? Tap not, I say, lest I grow angered and slay thee forthright!"

Then, blow for blow, did Beltane the mighty fall on right furiously,
but ever blade met blade whiles Roger danced on anxious feet, praying
for the end. Of a sudden, shouted he joyously, for, flashing high in
air, down came Beltane's long blade strong and true upon the knight's
helm--a fell, deep-dinting stroke that drave the stranger reeling back.
Fierce and swift leapt Beltane to smite again--came a shock of clashing
steel, a flurry of stroke and counter-stroke, and thereafter, a hoarse
shout of dismay from Roger: for Beltane stood as one dazed, staring
upon his empty right hand what time the knight boomed derisive laughter
through his vizor. Then sprang grim Roger, dagger aloft, but swifter
than he, the knight's sword swung; flat fell that long blade on Roger's
bascinet, wielded by an arm so strong that Roger, staggering aside,
rolled upon the ling, and thereafter, sat up, round-eyed and fearful:

"O master!" he panted, "here is none of--honest flesh and blood, 'tis--
Hob-gob himself, as I did warn thee. May Saint Cuthbert, Saint Bede,
Saint Edmund--"

"Go to--cease thy windy prattling, Roger Thick-pate!" spake the knight,
and letting fall his sword, he lifted his visor. And behold! a face
lean and hawk-like, with eyes quick and bright, and a smiling mouth
wry-twisted by reason of an ancient wound.

"Know ye me not, lord Beltane?" quoth he, with look right loving, "hast
forgot me indeed, most loved lad?" But swift came my Beltane, glad-eyed