hinks 'twere sweet to die.' 'Then what of the babe, lord
Duke?' and, speaking, Sir Benedict drew aside his cloak and showed the
babe asleep beneath. But, looking upon its innocence, the Duke cried
out and hid his face, for the babe's golden curls were dabbled with the
blood from Sir Benedict's wound and looked even as had the face of the
dead Johan. Yet, in a while, the Duke reached out and took the child
and setting it against his breast, turned his horse. Said Sir Benedict:
'Whither do we ride, lord Duke?' Then spake the Duke on this wise: 'Sir
Benedict, Duke Beltane is no more, the stroke that slew my brother
Johan killed Duke Beltane also. But as for you, get you to Pentavalon
and say the Duke is dead, in proof whereof take you this my ring and
so, farewell.' Then, my Beltane, God guiding me, I brought thee to
these solitudes, for I am he that was the Duke Beltane, and thou art my
son indeed."

CHAPTER VI

HOW BELTANE FARED FORTH OF THE GREEN

Thus spake the hermit Ambrose and, having made an end, sat thereafter
with his head bowed upon his hands, while Beltane stood wide-eyed yet
seeing not, and with lips apart yet dumb by reason of the wonder of it;
therefore, in a while, the hermit spake again:

"Thus did we live together, thou and I, dear son, and I loved thee
well, my Beltane: with each succeeding day I loved thee better, for as
thine understanding grew, so grew my love for thee. Therefore, so soon
as thou wert of an age, set in thy strength and able to thine own
support, I tore myself from thy sweet fellowship and lived alone lest,
having thee, I might come nigh to happiness."

Then Beltane sank upon his knees and caught the hermit's wasted hands
and kissed them oft, saying:

"Much hast thou suffered, O my father, but now am I come to thee again
and, knowing all things, here will I bide and leave thee nevermore."
Now in the hermit's pale cheek came a faint and sudden glow, and in his
eyes a light not of the sun.

"Bethink thee, boy," said he, "the blood within thy veins is noble.
For, since thou art my son, so, an thou dost leave me and seek thy
destiny thou shalt, perchance, be Duke of Pentavalon--an God will it
so."

But Beltane shook his head. Quoth he:

"My father, I am a smith, and smith am I content to be since thou, lord
Duke, art my father. So now will I abide with thee and love and honour
thee, and be thy son indeed."

Then rose the hermit Ambrose to his feet and spake with eyes upl