“Hath Sir Benedict many men?”

“Aye—­within Thrasfordham five hundred and more.”

“So few, Roger?”

“And mayhap as many again in Bourne.  But, for Sir Benedict—­a right lusty knight in sooth, master! and he doth hunger for sight of thee.  He hath had me, with Walkyn and the archer, speak full oft of how we fired the gibbet and roars mighty laughs to hear how thou didst bear off Sir Pertolepe in the green—­aye, Sir Benedict doth love to hear tell of that.”

“Aye; and what of Duke Ivo—­where is he now, Roger?”

“He hath reinforced Belsaye garrison and all the coast towns and castles of the Marches, and lieth at Pentavalon, gathering his powers to attack Thrasfordham, so men say, and hath sworn to burn it within the year, and all therein save only Sir Benedict—­him will he hang; ’tis so proclaimed far and wide.”

“And do men yet come in to Sir Benedict?”

“Not so, master.  Since Duke Ivo came they are afraid.”

“Ha!  And what of the outlaws—­there be many wild men within the forests.”

“The outlaws—­hey, that doth mind me.  I, with Giles and Walkyn and the young knight Sir Jocelyn brought down the outlaws upon Thornaby Mill.  But when we found thee not, we burned it, and thereafter the outlaws vanished all within the wild-wood; Sir Jocelyn rode away a-singing mighty doleful, and we three came to Thrasfordham according to thy word.  But when ye came not, master, by will of Sir Benedict we set out, all three, to find thee, and came to a cave of refuge Walkyn wots of:  there do we sleep by night and by day search for thee.  And behold, I have found thee, and so is my tale ended.  But now, in an hour will be day, master, and with the day will be the hue and cry after thee.  Come, let us haste over into Bourne, there shall we be safe so long as Thrasfordham stands.”

“True,” nodded Beltane and rose to his feet.  “Go you to Thrasfordham, Roger, Sir Benedict shall need such lusty men as thou, meseemeth.”

“Aye—­but what of thee, master?”

“I?  O, I’m for the wild-wood, to a wild life and wilder doings, being myself a wild man, henceforth, lawful food for flame or gibbet, kin to every clapper-claw rogue and rascal ’twixt here and Mortain.”

“Nay master, within Thrasfordham ye shall laugh at Black Ivo and all his powers—­let us then to Thrasfordham, beseech thee!”

“Nay, I’m for the woods in faith, to seek me desperate rogues, wild men whose lives being forfeit, are void of all hope and fear.  So, get thee to Sir Benedict and speak him this from me, to wit:  that while he holdeth Ivo in check before Thrasfordham, I will arise indeed and bring with me flame and steel from out the wild-wood.  When he shall see the night sky aflame, then shall he know I am at work, and when by day he heareth of death sudden and swift, then shall he know I am not idle.  Bid him rede me this riddle:  That bringing from chaos order, so from order will I bring chaos, that order peradventure shall remain.  Haste you into Bourne, Roger, and so—­fare thee well!”