“South to Belsaye,” answered Sir Benedict.  “South through the wild until we strike the western road by Thornaby.  I with certain others will form a rear-guard and hold Sir Rollo in play what time our main body presses on at speed.”

“Ha!” quoth Sir Hacon, “and what of Red Pertolepe?  Truly our case is desperate methinks, old comrade!”

“Why, ’tis not the first time we have out-faced desperate odds, Hacon!”

“Aye, verily, Benedict—­thy cool head and cunning strategy have saved us from dungeon and death a score of times, but then were we a chosen company, swift at onfall or retreat, well mounted and equipped—­ to-night we go hampered with our wounded and these lady nuns.  So is our case desperate, Benedict, and needeth desperate remedy—­”

“And that, methinks, I’ve found, messire!” quoth Beltane, and rising up he looked upon them all, his eye bright with sudden purpose.  “Hark ye, my lords!  Great and valiant knights do I know ye, one and all—­wise in experience of battle and much versed in warlike stratagem beyond my understanding; but this is the wild-wood where only wood-craft shall advantage us.  Within these wilds your tactics shall avail nothing nor all your trampling chivalry—­here must be foresters that may go silent and unseen amid the leaves, ’neath whose trained feet no twig shall snap, who smite unseen from brush and thicket and being wise in wood-craft thus make the forest their ally.  And, lords, I am a forester; all my days the greenwood hath been my home, and in my loneliness I made the trees my friends.  So, I pray you, let me with three hundred chosen foresters keep our rear to-night, and this night the forest shall fight for us and Sir Rollo rue the hour he dared adventure him within the green.  Messires, how say you?”

“Why my lord, ’tis very well!” sighed Sir Benedict, glancing down at his wounded arm, “I, for one, do agree right heartily.”

“And I!” nodded Sir Brian.

“And I also!” quoth Sir Hacon, “though ’tis a far cry to Belsaye and I love not to be pent within walls, and with Red Pertolepe threatening our flank ’tis a very parlous case, methinks.”

“And thou art ever at thy best where danger is, Hacon,” said Sir Benedict, “so will I give thee charge of our van-ward!” Now hereupon Sir Hacon’s gloom vanished and rising up, he smiled and forthwith did on his great war-helm.

“Then it is agreed!” said Beltane and beckoned to Roger and Walkyn; quoth he: 

“Good friends, go now and choose three hundred trusty fellows, skilled foresters all; look that each doth bear flint and steel for by yon clouds I judge ’twill be a dark night.  Let every fire within the camp be quenched and the ground well cooled with water, that by the feel of it none may know how long we have removed—­see you to this, Ulf.”

Now when the mighty three were gone about the business, their fifteen lusty fellows at their heels, Beltane turned and pointed westward, and lo! the sun was set.