Part 86 (2/2)
”Why truly I would, Roger--”
”Then forsooth will I go fetch him.”
”Nay--rather would I die, Roger.”
”But--dear lady--an thou dost want him--”
”I will bring him by other means!” said the d.u.c.h.ess, ”aye, he shall come despite himself,” and her red lips curved to sudden roguish smile, as smiling thus, she brought them to a certain arbour very shady and remote, and, seating herself, looked from one tanned face to the other and spake them certain matters, whereat the archer's merry eyes grew merrier yet, but Roger sighed and shook his head; said he:
”Lady, here is tale shall wring his n.o.ble heart, methinks, wherefore the telling shall wring mine also--”
”Then speak not of it, Roger. Be this Giles's mission.”
”Aye, Rogerkin, leave it to me. In faith, n.o.ble lady, I will with suggestion soft and subtle, with knowing look and wily wag of head, so work upon my lord that he shall hither hot-foot haste--”
”At moonrise,” said the d.u.c.h.ess softly, ”this evening at moonrise!”
”Verily, lady, at moonrise! And a blue camlet cloak, say you?”
”Come, Giles, and I will give it thee.”
Meanwhile, Beltane, hurt and angry, betook him to the walls where bow and perrier had already begun their deadly morning's work; and coming to a quiet corner of the battlement, he leaned him there to watch where the besiegers, under cover of the cat that hourly crept more nigh, worked amain to dam the moat.
Now as he leaned thus, a hand slipped within his arm, and turning, he beheld Sir Benedict.
”A right fair morning, my Beltane,” quoth he.
”Aye, truly, Benedict,” sighed Beltane, ”though there be clouds to the west. And the causeway across the moat groweth apace; I have watched yon cat creep a full yard--”
”Aye, verily, by mid-day, Beltane, 'twill reach our wall, then will they advance their ram to the battery, methinks.”
”And what then, Benedict?”
”Then shall we destroy their ram forthwith with devil-fire, dear lad!”
”Aye, and how then, Benedict?”
”Then, belike will they plant ladders on the causeway and attempt the wall by storm, so shall we come to handstrokes at last and beset them with pitch and boiling oil and hew their ladders in sunder.”
”And after, Benedict?”
”Hey-day, Beltane, here be a many questions--”
”Aye, Benedict, 'tis that I do look into the future. And what future can there be? Though we maintain our walls a year, or two, or three, yet in the end Belsaye must fall.”
”And I tell thee, Beltane, were Ivo twice as strong Belsaye should yet withstand him. So gloom not, lad, Belsaye is safe, the sun s.h.i.+neth and behold my arm--'tis well-nigh healed, thanks to--to skilful nursing--”
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