“Yet needs must I reach there, since I do bear a message.  But, O young messire, when cruel men put out mine eyes, the good God, in His sweet clemency, made sharp mine ears.  So do I know thy voice, methinks, for voice of one who, long months since, did cherish me in my need and hunger, and sent me unto the saintly Ambrose.”

“Ha!” cried Beltane joyously, “and is it thou indeed?  Tell me, how doth my father?—­is he well?—­what said he?—­how looked he?  O, I do yearn for word of him!”

“Thy father?  How, young sir, is he indeed thy father?  Then is thy name Beltane, for I have heard him name thee oft—­”

“Forsooth, and did he so?  But how came you here, and wherefore?”

“To seek thee, lord Beltane, according to thy saintly father’s word.  And the manner of it, thus:  As we sat together of a certain fair noon within Holy Cross Thicket, there came to us thither a woman, young, methinks, and fair, for her speech was soft and wondrous sweet in mine ears.  And she did hail thy father ‘Duke,’ and thereafter spake thy name full oft, and so they fell to many words, walking together up and down before the hut.  Anon, sudden and silent as she came, she was gone, and thy father walked full long, praying oft as one that rejoiceth greatly, and oft as one in deep perplexity.  In a while cometh he to me and gave me scrip and therewith food and money, and bade me seek thee in Belsaye and speak thee thus:  ’Tell Beltane, my well-beloved, that I, his father, have heard of his great and knightly deeds and that I do glory in them, praising God.  Say that through him my youth and strength are renewed and my great sin made easier to bear.  Tell him that the woes of Pentavalon draw to an end, and that ere long she shall arise above her sorrows.  Bid him be of good courage yet a little longer, for the lion is waked at last, and the leopard also.’  Behold now, messire, all’s said.”  And the blind man stood with down-bent head, one hand grasping the staff, his other arm hid within his wide sleeve, what time Roger watched him furtive and askance, and moreover, his bow-stave shook and quivered in his grasp; as for Beltane, he stood as one lost in happy thought, upon his lips a smile ineffably tender.  Smiling yet, he turned and touched the blind man’s stooping shoulder.  Quoth he: 

“Greatly welcome is thy news and greatly would I thank thee.  Pray you now, how may I show my gratitude?”

“Messire, fain would I shelter me in Belsaye, for there is fire and sword and battle on the marches.  But the way is long, and on my road hither two rogues took from me purse and scrip.  Give me, therefore, enough to bear me on my way.”

“Aye, verily!  Roger, thou dost bear the purse.  Give him store of money and some of our food—­see that he lacketh for nothing, Roger.”  So saying, Beltane turned him away and fell again to pondering his father’s words.

Now at sound of Roger’s name the blind man started round and fixed Roger with the horror of his eyeless sockets, and, therewith, flung up an arm as though fearing a blow; and behold! this arm was but a mutilated stump, for hand was there none.