Quoth Sir Benedict, as with Roger’s aid Beltane did on his armour: 

“There is a postern beyond the pleasaunce yonder shall bring you forth of the city and no man the wiser.”

“Why, then, bring ye the horses thither, Roger, and haste ye!”

Now when Roger was gone, Sir Benedict arose and setting his hands on Beltane’s shoulders questioned him full serious: 

“Mean ye forsooth to make the forests free, Beltane?”

“Aye, verily, Benedict.”

“This shall cause much discontent among the lords—­”

“Well, we wear swords, Benedict!  But this I swear, whiles I am Duke, never again shall a man hang for killing of my deer.  Moreover, ’tis my intent forthwith to lower all taxes, more especially in the market towns, to extend their charters and grant them new privileges.”

“Beltane, I fear thy years shall be full of discord.”

“What matter, an my people prosper?  But thou art older and much wiser than I, Benedict, bethink thee of these things then, I pray, and judge how best such changes may be ’stablished, for a week hence, God willing, I summon my first council.  But now, dear Benedict, I go to find my happiness.”

“Farewell, my lord—­God speed thee, my Beltane!  O lad, lad, the heart of Benedict goeth with thee, methinks!” and Sir Benedict turned suddenly away.  Then Beltane took and clasped those strong and able hands.

“Benedict,” said he, “truer friend man never had than thou, and for this I do love thee—­and thou art wise and valiant and great-hearted, and thou didst love my noble mother with a noble love, and for this do I love thee best of all, dear friend.”

Then Benedict lifted his head, and like father and son they kissed each other, and together went forth into the sweet, cool-breathing morn.

Beyond the postern were Giles and Black Roger with the horses, and Giles sang blithe beneath his breath, but Roger sighed oft and deep.

Now being mounted, Beltane reined close beside Sir Benedict and smiled full joyous and spake him thus, low-voiced: 

“Dear Benedict, to-day one that loveth thee doth ride away, but in a week two that love thee shall return.  And needs must these two love thee ever and always, very greatly, Benedict, since but for thee they had not come to their joy.”  So saying, he touched spur to flank and bounded away, with Giles and Roger spurring behind.

Soon were they free of the city and reaching that rolling down where the battle had raged so lately, Beltane set his horse to a stretching gallop, and away they raced, over upland and lowland until they beheld afar to their right the walls and towers of Belsaye.  But on they rode toward the green of the woods, and ever as they rode Giles sang full blithely to himself whiles Roger gloomed and sighed; wherefore at last the archer turned to clap him on the shoulder.

“What aileth thee, my Rogerkin?” quoth he.