So, needfully, Beltane followed, and, stepping into the water found his feet upon a narrow causeway cunningly devised.  Thus, slowly and carefully, because of the flowing of the water, they came betimes to where the friar waited in the shadow of the massy wall; yet, even as they came near, the friar waved his arm, stooped—­and was gone; whereon my Beltane stared amazed and the three muttered uneasily behind him.  But, coming nearer, Beltane espied above the hurrying waters the curve of an arch or tunnel, and pointing it to the others, took a great breath and, stooping beneath the water, stumbled on and on until it shallowed, and he was free to breathe again.

On he went, through water now breast-high, with slimy walls above him and around, seeing naught by reason of the pitchy blackness, and hearing only the smothered splash of those behind, and gasping breaths that boomed hollow in the dark.  Yet presently he saw a gleam before him that broadened with each step, and, of a sudden, was out beneath the sky—­a narrow strip wherein stars twinkled, and so beheld again friar Martin’s white frock flitting on, ghost-like, before.  In a while he brought them to a slimy stair, and climbing this, with ever growing caution, they found themselves at last beneath the frowning shadow of the citadel within the walls of Belsaye town.  Now, looking north, Beltane beheld afar a fiery gallows that flamed to heaven, and from the town thitherward came a confused hum of the multitude who watched; but hereabouts the town seemed all deserted.

“The dungeons lie beneath our feet,” whispered Friar Martin.  “Come!”

So, keeping ever in the shadow of the great square keep, they went on, soft-treading and alert of eye till, being come to the angle of the wall, the friar stayed of a sudden and raised a warning hand.  Then came Beltane with Walkyn close behind, and peering over the friar’s broad shoulders, they beheld a sentinel who stood with his back to them, leaning on his spear, to watch the burning gallows, his chain-mail agleam and his head-piece glittering as he stirred lazily in time to the merry lilt he sang softly.

Then, or ever Beltane could stay him, Walkyn o’ the Dene laid by his axe, and, his soaked shoes soundless upon the stones, began to steal upon the unconscious singer, who yet lolled upon his spear some thirty paces away.  With great body bowed forward and hairy fingers crooked, Walkyn stole upon him; six paces he went, ten—­twenty—­twenty-five—­ the soldier ceased his humming, stood erect and turned about; and Walkyn leapt—­bore him backward down into the shadow—­a shadow wherein their bodies writhed and twisted silently awhile.  When Walkyn rose out of the shadow and beckoned them on.