“O beloved maid!” said he, “this is, methinks, because of thy sweet virgin eyes!  For I do so love thee, Helen, that, an it be thy will, e’en now will I leave thee until thy heart doth call me!”

Now stooped she and set her white arms about him and her soft cheek to his hot brow.

“Dear my lord and—­husband,” she whispered, “’tis for this so sweet tenderness in thee that I do love thee best, methinks!”

“And fear me no more?”

“Aye, my lord, I do fear thee when—­when thou dost look on me so, but—­ when thou dost look on me so—­’tis then I do love thee most, my Beltane!”

Up to his feet sprang Beltane and caught her to him, breast to breast and lip to lip.

The great sword clattered to the floor; but now, even as she sank in his embrace, she held him off to stare with eyes of sudden terror as, upon the stilly night broke a thunderous rumble, a shock, and thereafter sudden roar and outcry from afar, that swelled to a wild hubbub of distant voices and cries, lost, all at once, in the raving clamour of the tocsin.

Locked thus within each other’s arms, eye questioned eye, while ever the bell beat out its fierce alarm.  And presently, within the garden below, was the sound of running feet and, coming to the casement, Beltane beheld a light that hovered to and fro, growing ever nearer and brighter, until he saw that he who bore it was Black Roger; and Roger’s face shone with sweat and his breath laboured with his running.

“Master!” he panted, “O master—­a mine! a mine!  They have breached the wall beside the gate—­hark, where they storm the city!  Come, master, O come ere it be too late!”

Now Beltane clenched his fists and scowled on pale-faced Roger and from him to the radiant sky, yet when he spake his voice was low and even: 

“I thank thee, faithful Roger!  Go you and summon such of our foresters as ye may, muster them in the market-square, there will I come to thee.”

Now when Roger’s flickering light had vanished he turned, and found Helen close beside him; her cheeks were pale, but in her hand she held his sword.

“’Tis well thou wert not all unarmed, my lord!” she sighed, and forthwith belted the weapon about him.  “Kneel down, I prithee, that I may lace for thee thy hood of mail.”  And when it was done she knelt also, and taking his hand pressed it to her throbbing heart, and holding him thus fell to prayer: 

“O God of mercy, have in care those that fight in our defence this night, in especial guard and shield this man of mine that I do love beyond all men—­O God of mercy, hear us!”

So they arose, and as he looked on her so looked she on him, and of a sudden clasped him in close and passionate embrace: 

“Beltane—­Beltane!” she sobbed, “God knoweth I do so love thee that thy dear flesh is mine, methinks, and the steel that woundeth thee shall hurt me also.  And—­O love—­an thou should’st die to-night, then surely will this heart of mine die with thee—­no man shall have my love other than thou—­so to my grave will I go thy virgin wife for thy dear sake.  Fare thee well Beltane, O dear my husband, fare thee well.  Tarry no longer, lest I pray thee on my knees to go not to the battle.”