BELTANE.  “How think ye of this our adventure, comrades all?”

GILES.  “Forsooth, as a man do I think well of it.  Ho! for the twang of bowstrings! the whirr and whistle of well-sped shafts loosed from the ear!  Ha! as an archer and a man ’tis an adventure that jumpeth with my desire.  But—­as a soldier, and one of much and varied experience, as one that hath stormed Belsaye ere now—­with divers other towns, cities, keeps, and castles beyond number—­as a soldier, I do think it but a gloomy business and foredoomed to failure—­”

BELTANE.  “And wherefore?”

GILES.  “Method, tall brother, method precise and soldier-like.  War is a very ancient profession—­an honourable profession and therefore to be treated with due reverence.  Now, without method, war would become but a scurvy, sorry, hole-and-corner business, unworthy your true soldier.  So I, a soldier, loving my profession, do stand for method in all things.  Thus, would I attack a city, I do it modo et forma: first, I set up my mantelets for my archers, and under cover of their swift shooting I set me up my mangonels, my trebuchets and balistae:  then, pushing me up, assault the walls with cat, battering-ram and sap, and having made me a breach, would forthwith take me the place by sudden storm.”

ROGER.  “Ha, bowman! here is overmuch of thee, methinks!  And dost speak like a very archer-like fool—­and forsooth, a foolish archer to boot.  Sure, well ye know that engines for the battery have we none—­”

GILES.  “Verily!  So shall we none of Belsaye, methinks.  Lacking engines, we lack for all—­no method, no city!  Remember that, dolt Rogerkin!”

ROGER.  “Nay, I remember Garthlaxton aflame, the gallows aflare, and the empty dungeon.  So, an we go up ’gainst Belsaye again, shall we surely take it.  Remember these, long-winded Giles, and being a soldier, be ye also—­a man.”

BELTANE.  “What think you, Walkyn?”

WALKYN. (patting his axe) “Of Gui of Allerdale, master.”

BELTANE.  “And you, Eric?”

ERIC.  “That where thou dost go, messire, we follow.”

BELTANE. “’Tis well.  Now here beside me sitteth Sir Fidelis, who though methinks the most youthful of us all, hath a head in council wiser than us all.  For he hath spoke me that whereby though few in number and lacking engines for battery, Giles—­we yet may win through the walls of Belsaye ere sun-down.  Know you this country, Walkyn?”

WALKYN.  “As my hand, lord.”

BELTANE.  “Is there a village hereabouts?”

WALKYN.  “Aye, five miles west by south is Brand-le-Dene.  But there is a mill scarce a mile down stream, I wot.”

BELTANE.  “A mill?  ’Twill serve—­go ye thither.  Here is money—­buy therewith four hats and smocks the like that millers wear, and likewise four meal-sacks well stuffed with straw.”

WALKYN. (rising) “Smocks, master?  Straw and meal-sacks?”

BELTANE.  “And haste, Walkyn.  We must be far hence within the hour.”