“By dangerous ways,” answered Beltane, “through fire and battle.  But by fire men are purged, and by battle wrongs may be done away.  An ye follow, ’tis like some of us shall die, but by such death our brethren shall win to honour, and home, and happiness, for happiness is all men’s birthright.  Ye are but a wild, unordered rabble, yet are ye men!  ’Tis true ye are ill-armed and ragged, yet is your cause a just one.  Ye bear weapons and have arms to smite—­why then lurk ye here within the wild-wood?  Will not fire burn?  Will not steel cut?  He that is not coward, let him follow me!”

“Aye,” cried a score of harsh voices, “but whither—­whither?”

Quoth Beltane: 

“Be there many among ye that know Sir Pertolepe the Red?”

Now went there up a roar, deep-lunged and ominous; brawny fists were shaken and weapons flashed and glittered.

“Ah—­we know him—­the Red Wolf—­we know him—­ah!”

“Then tell me,” said Beltane, “will not steel cut?  Will not fire burn?  Arise, I say, rise up and follow me.  So will we smite Tyranny this night and ere the dawn Garthlaxton shall be ablaze!”

“Garthlaxton!” cried Eric, “Garthlaxton!” and thereafter all men stared on Beltane as one that is mad.

“Look now,” said Beltane, “Sir Pertolepe hath ridden forth with all his company to join Black Ivo’s banner.  Thus, within Garthlaxton his men be few; moreover I know a secret way beneath the wall.  Well, is’t enough?  Who among ye will follow, and smite for freedom and Pentavalon?”

“That will I!” cried Eric, falling upon his knee.

“And I!  And I!” cried others, and so came they to crowd eagerly about Beltane, to touch his hand or the links of his bright mail.

“Lead us!” they cried, “come—­lead us!”

“Nay first—­hearken!  From henceforth outlaws are ye none.  Come now, one and all, draw, and swear me on your swords:—­To make your strength a shelter to the weak; to smite henceforth but in honourable cause for freedom, for justice and Pentavalon—­swear me upon your swords to abide by this oath, and to him that breaks it—­Death.  Swear!”

So there upon their knees with gleaming swords uplifted, these wild men swore the oath.  Then up sprang Walkyn, pointing to Beltane with his axe.

“Brothers!” he cried, “behold a man that doeth such deeds as no man ever did—­that burned the gallows—­burst ope the dungeon of Belsaye and slew Tostig the mighty with naked hands!  Behold Beltane the Duke!  Is he not worthy to be our leader—­shall we not follow him?” Then came a roar of voices: 

“Aye—­let us follow—­let us follow!”

“On, then!” cried Walkyn, his glittering axe aloft.  “To Garthlaxton!”

Then from an hundred brawny throats a roar went up to heaven, a cry that hissed through clenched teeth and rang from eager lips, wilder, fiercer than before.  And the cry was:—­

“Garthlaxton!”