“Money, forsooth!” quoth Beltane bitterly; “now out upon thee, Giles—­ how think ye money shall avail the like of us whose lives are forfeit each and every, whose foes be many and strong, who must ever be on our ward, quick to smite lest we be smitten—­money, forsooth!  So, good master Reeve, keep thy useless treasure, and, in its stead, give to us good steel—­broadswords, sharp and well-tempered and stout link-mail—­ give of these to such as lack.”

“But—­O brother,” says Giles, “with gold may we gain all these.”

“Verily, Giles, but gaining all without gold we lack not for gold, nor have the added fear of losing it.  He that would gain wealth must first win freedom, for without freedom the richest is but a sorry slave.  So give us steel, good master Reeve.”

Now from Giles’ archers and divers others beside a growl went up, spreading from rank to rank, what time Beltane clenched his hands, frowning ever blacker.  Then forth stepped Jenkyn o’ the Ford with tall Orson, which last spake with voice uplift: 

“Master,” quoth he, “us do love gold—­but fighting men us do be, and if ‘steel’ says you—­’steel’ says we!”

“Aye,” nodded Jenkyn, “so look’ee master, here stands I wi’ Orson my comrade look’ee, for witness that to-day we be better men than these growlers.”

But here, of a sudden, rose the shrill bray of a trumpet without the walls, a long flourish, loud and imperious; and at the sound a silence fell, wherein divers of the townsfolk eyed each other in fear swift-born, and drew nearer to the white-haired Reeve who stood leaning heavily upon his sword, his head stooped upon his broad chest.  And in the silence, Giles spake: 

“Now, by the ever-blessed Saint Giles, there spake the summons of Robert of Hurstmanswyke—­I know his challenge of old—­ha, bows and bills!” So saying he bent and strung his bow.

“Aye,” nodded Roger, loosening sword in sheath, “and Sir Robert is a dour fighter I’ve heard.”

“So soon!” groaned the Reeve, “so very soon!  Now God pity Belsaye!”

“Amen!” quoth Giles, fidgeting uneasily with his bow, “forsooth, Sir Robert is a very potent lord—­God help us all, say I!”

“And Sir Robert likewise,” quoth Roger, “for methinks an he come within Belsaye he is like to stay in Belsaye—­mind ye Sir Gui, and mark ye my master’s look!” And he pointed where Beltane stood near by, chin in fist, his eye bright and purposeful, his mouth grim-smiling; even as they watched he beckoned Walkyn and Eric to him and spake certain commands what time the trumpet brayed again in summons fierce and arrogant.

“Good master Reeve,” quoth Beltane, as Walkyn and Eric, obedient to his word, moved into the square to right and left, each with his company, “there is one without that groweth impatient.  Let us therefore parley with him from the battlement above the gate.”

“Ah, messire,” sighed the Reeve, “to what end?  ’Tis Sir Robert’s summons, and well I know he will demand speech with my lord Gui—­alas for us and for Belsaye town!”