“Back, fools!” he cried, “have ye no eyes?  See ye not ’tis he of whom I spake—­he that burned Belsaye gallows and brake ope the dungeon of Belsaye—­that is friend to all distressed folk and broken men; know ye not Beltane the Duke?  Hear him, ye fools, hear him!”

Hereupon the outlaws stared upon Beltane and upon each other, and fumbled with their weapons as men that knew not their own minds, while Beltane, wiping sweat from him, leaned upon his axe and panted, with the three at his elbow alert and watchful, eager for fight; but Perkyn lay where he had fallen, very still and with his face hidden in the grass.

Of a sudden, Beltane laid by his axe and reached out his hands.

“Brothers,” said he, “how long will ye be slaves?”

“Slaves, forsooth?” cried one, “slaves are we to no man—­here within the green none dare gainsay us—­we be free men, one and all.  Is’t not so, comrades?”

“Aye!  Aye!” roared a hundred voices.

“Free?” quoth Beltane, “free?  Aye, free to wander hither and thither, hiding forever within the wilderness, living ever in awe and dread lest ye die in a noose.  Free to go in rags, to live like beasts, to die unpitied and be thrown into a hole, or left to rot i’ the sun—­call ye this freedom, forsooth?  Hath none among ye desire for hearth and home, for wife and child—­are ye become so akin to beasts indeed?”

Now hereupon, divers muttered in their beards and others looked askance on one another.  Then spake the man Eric, of the wry neck.

“Messire,” quoth he, “all that you say is sooth, but what remedy can ye bring to such as we.  Say now?”

Then spake Beltane on this wise: 

“All ye that have suffered wrong, all ye that be broken men—­hearken!  Life is short and quick to escape a man, yet do all men cherish it, and to what end?  What seek ye of life—­is it arms, is it riches?  Go with me and I will teach ye how they shall be come by.  Are ye heavy-hearted by reason of your wrongs—­of bitter shame wrought upon the weak and innocent?  Seek ye vengeance?—­would ye see tyrants die?—­seek ye their blood, forsooth?  Then follow me!”

Now at this the outlaws began to murmur among themselves, wagging their heads one to another and voicing their grievances thus: 

“They cut off mine ears for resisting my lord’s taxes, and for this I would have justice!”

“They burned me in the hand for striking my lord’s hunting dog!”

“I had a wife once, and she was young and fair; so my lord’s son took her and thereafter gave her for sport among his huntsmen, whereof she died—­and for this would I have vengeance!”

“They burned my home, and therein wife and child—­and for this would I have vengeance!”

“They cut off my brother’s hands!”

“They put out my father’s eyes!”

Quoth Eric: 

“And me they sought to hang to mine own roof-tree!—­behold this crooked neck o’ mine—­so am I Eric o’ the Noose.  Each one of us hath suffered wrong, great or little, so live we outlaws in the green, lawless men in lawless times, seeking ever vengeance for our wrongs.  Who then shall bring us to our desire, how shall our grievous wrongs be righted?  An we follow, whither would’st thou lead us?”