Part 68 (1/2)

”Master,” quoth he, yet upon his knees and viewing Beltane somewhat askance, ”here is the best I can do for such as yon Gurth; will't suffice, think ye?”

”Aye, 'twill serve, Roger. But, for the other matter--”

”Why see you, master, a man may freely speak his dear desires within his prayers--more especially when his prayers are potent, as mine.

Moreover I warned thee--I warned thee I would pray for thee--and pray for thee I have.” Now hereupon Beltane rose somewhat hastily and turned his back, what time Roger sheathed his sword.

Then spake Beltane, turning him to the pool again:

”We had store of tools and mattocks, I mind me. Go and look within the caves if there be ever a one left, for now must we bury this poor clay.”

”Ha, must we pray for him--_and_ bury him, master?”

”And bury him, Roger.”

Then Roger sighed and shook his head and so left Beltane, who fell again to profound meditation; but of a sudden hearing a cry, he turned to behold Roger running very fleetly, who, coming near, caught him by the arm and sought to drag him away.

”Run!” he panted, ”run, master--I ha' just seen a goblin--run, master!”

Now beholding the terror in Roger's eyes, Beltane unsheathed his sword.

”Show me, Roger,” said he.

”Nay, lord--of what avail? Let's away, this place is rank o' deviltries and witchcraft--”

”Show me, Roger--come!”

Perforce, Roger led the way, very heedful to avoid each patch of shadow, until they were come opposite that cave where aforetime Beltane had been customed to sleep. Here Roger paused.

”Master,” he whispered, ”there is a thing within that groaneth-- goblin-groans, master. A thing very like unto a goblin, for I ha' seen it --a pale thing that creepeth--holy saints, 'tis here again--hark to it!”

And in very truth Beltane heard a sound the which, soft though it was, checked his breath and chilled his flesh; and, as he peered into the gloomy recesses of the cavern, there moved something vague amid the shadows, something that rose up slow and painfully.

Roger was down gasping on his knees, Beltane's hand was tight-clenched upon the hilt of his sword, as out into the moonlight crept one, very bent and feeble, shrouded in a long grey cloak; a pitiful figure, that, leaning a hand upon the rock, slowly raised a drooping head. Then Beltane saw that this was the witch Jolette.

A while she stood thus, one hand supporting her against the rocky bank, the other hid within the folds of her long mantle.

”O my lord!” said she, low-voiced, ”all day long my heart hath been calling--calling to thee; so art come at last--thanks be to G.o.d--O my lord Beltane!”

Now as she spake, she reached out a hand to him so that the shrouding mantle fell away; then, beholding what it had hid, Beltane let fall his sword, and leaping forward, caught her within his arm.

”Ah!--thou'rt hurt!” he cried.

”My lord, I--strove to bind it up--I am cunning in herbs and simples-- but my hurt is too deep for any leechcraft. To-night--soon--I must die.

Lay me down, I pray thee. Thine arms are strong, lord Beltane, and-- very gentle. How, dost grieve for a witch, lord--for poor Jolette? Nay, comfort ye--my life has been none so sweet I should dread to lose it.”

”How cometh this?” he questioned gently, on his knees beside her.

”'Twas the Red Pertolepe's men--nay, messire, they have but killed me.

But O, my dear lord--heed me well. A week agone lord Pertolepe marched hither seeking thee with a great company led by yon Gurth. And when he found thee not he hanged Gurth, yet tarried here awhile. Then I, knowing a secret path hither that none else do know, came and hearkened to their councils. So do I know that he is marched for Winisfarne--”