“Lady, I do tell thee here is an evil place for thee:  they do say the devil is abroad and goeth up and down and to and fro begirt in mail, lady, doing such deeds as no man ever did.  Pentavalon is rife with war and rumours of war, everywhere is whispered talk of war—­death shall be busy within this evil Duchy ere long—­aye, and even in Mortain, perchance—­nay, hearken!  Scarce was thy flight discovered when there came messengers hot-foot to thy guest, Duke Ivo, having word from Sir Gui of Allerdale that one hath arisen calling himself son of Beltane the Strong that once was Duke of Pentavalon, as ye know.  And this is a mighty man, who hath, within the week, broke ope my lord Duke Ivo’s dungeon of Belsaye, slain divers of my lord Duke’s good and loyal subjects, and burnt down the great gallows of my lord Duke.”

“Ah!” sighed the Duchess, her brows knit thoughtfully, “and what said Duke Ivo to this, Godric?”

“Smiled, lady, and begged instant speech with thee; and, when thou wert not to be found, then Duke Ivo smiled upon thy trembling counsellors.  ‘My lords,’ said he, ’I ride south to hang certain rogues and fools.  But, when I have seen them dead, I shall come hither again to woo and wed the Duchess Helen.  See to it that ye find her, therefore, else will I myself seek her through the length and breadth of Mortain until I find her—­aye, with lighted torches, if need be!”

“And dare he threaten us?” cried the Duchess, white hands clenched.

“Aye, doth he, lady,” nodded Godric, garrulous and grim.  “Thereafter away he rode, he and all his company, and after them, I grieving and alone, to seek thee, dear my lady.  And behold, I have found thee, the good Saint Martin be praised!”

“Verily thou hast found me, Godric!” sighed the Duchess, looking upon Beltane very wistfully.

“So now will I guide thee back to thine own fair duchy, gentle mistress, for I do tell thee here in Pentavalon shall be woeful days anon.  Even as I came, with these two eyes did I behold the black ruin of Duke Ivo’s goodly gallows—­a woeful sight!  And divers tales have I heard of this gallows-burner, how that he did, unaided and alone, seize and bear off upon his shoulders one Sir Pertolepe—­called the ’Red’—­ Lord Warden of the Marches.  So hath Duke Ivo put a price upon his head and decreed that he shall forthright be hunted down, and thereto hath sent runners far and near with his exact description, the which have I heard and can most faithfully repeat an you so desire?”

“Aye me!” sighed the Duchess, a little wearily.

“As thus, lady.  Item:  calleth himself Beltane, son of Beltane, Duke of Pentavalon that was:  Item—­”

“Beltane!” said the Duchess, and started.

“Item:  he is very tall and marvellous strong.  Item:  hath yellow hair—­”

“Yellow hair!” said the Duchess, and turned to look upon Beltane.