So, with sure and steady hand, Beltane set wide the door, that creaked faintly in the stillness, and beheld a small, square chamber where was a narrow window, and, in this window, a mail-clad man lolled, his unhelmed head thrust far without, to watch the glow that leapt against the northern sky.

Then Beltane sheathed his dagger and, in three long strides was close behind, and, stooping above the man, sought and found his hairy throat, and swung him, mighty-armed, that his head struck the wall; then Beltane, sighing, laid him upon the floor and turned toward a certain arras-hung arch:  but, or ever his hand came upon this curtain, from beyond a voice hailed—­a voice soft and musical.

“Hugo—­O Hugo, spawn of hell, hither to me!”

Then Beltane, lifting the curtain, opened the door and, striding into the chamber beyond, closed and barred the door behind him, and so stood, tall and menacing, looking on one who sat at a table busied with pen and ink-horn.  A slender man this, and richly habited:  a sleepy-eyed man, pale of cheek, with long, down-curving nose, and mouth thin-lipped and masterful, who, presently lifting his head, stared up in amaze, sleepy-eyed no longer:  for now, beholding Beltane the mighty, sheathed in mail from head to foot, the pen dropped from his fingers and his long pale hands slowly clenched themselves.

So, for a space, they fronted each other, speaking not, while eye met eye unswerving—­the menacing blue and the challenging black, and, through the open casement near by came a ruddy glow that flickered on arras-hung wall and rugged roof-beam.  Now raising his hand, Beltane pointed toward this glowing window.

“Sir Gui,” quoth he, “Lord Seneschal of Belsaye town, thou hast good eyes—­look now, and tell me what ye see.”

“I see,” said Sir Gui, stirring not, “I see a presumptuous knave—­a dog who shall be flung headlong from the turret.  Ha!  Hugo!” he called, his black eyes yet unswerving, “O Hugo, son of the fiend, hither to me!”

“Trouble not, my lord,” quoth Beltane gently, “behold, the door is barred:  moreover, Hugo lieth without—­pray God I have not killed him.  But, as for thee—­look yonder, use thine eyes and speak me what thou dost see.”

But Sir Gui sat on, his thin lips upcurling to a smile, his black eyes unswerving:  wherefore came Beltane and seized him in fierce hands and plucked him to his feet and so brought him to the window.

“Ha!” he cried, “look now and tell me what ye see.  Speak! speak—­for, God help me! now am I minded to kill thee here and now, unarmed though ye be, and cast thy carrion to the dogs—­speak!”

Now, beholding the mail-clad face above him, the blue eyes aflame, the pale lips tight-drawn, Sir Gui, Seneschal of Belsaye, spake soft-voiced on this wise: 

“I see my lord Duke’s gallows go up in flame—­wherefore men shall die!”