"Nay, here is no matter--tell me, tell me, where is Fidelis?"
"Dear master I know not, forsooth!"
"Went he by the forest road?"
"Aye, master, the forest road."
"Afoot?"
"Afoot, lord."
"Said he aught to thee of--of me, Roger?"
"Aye, 'twas all of thee and thy wound, and how to ease thy pain I must do this, forsooth, and that, forsooth, and to break the fever must mix and give thee certain cordials, the which I have done."
"Said he aught beside--aught else, Roger?"
"Aye, master, he bid me pray for thee, the which I have also done, though I had rather fight for thee; nathless the sweet saints have answered even my poor prayers, for behold, thou art alive and shall be well anon."
Now after this. Beltane lay with eyes fast shut and spake not; thus he lay so long, that Roger, thinking he slept again, would have moved away, but Beltane's feeble hand stayed him, and he spake, yet with eyes still closed.
"By the forest road, Roger!"
"Aye, master."
"Alone, Roger!"
"Aye, lord, alone."
"And--afoot, Roger!"
"Aye, lord, he bade me take his horse that I might come to thee the sooner."
"And--bid thee--pray for me--for me, Roger!"
"Verily, master. And pray I did, right lustily."
"So do I thank thee, Roger," said Beltane, speaking ever with closed eyes. "Yet I would that God had let me die, Roger." And behold, from these closed eyes, great tears, slow-oozing and painful, that rolled a-down the pallid cheek, very bright in the fire-glow, and glistening like the fairest gems.
"Master--O master!" cried Roger, "dost grieve thee for Sir Fidelis?"
"Forsooth, I must, Roger--he was a peerless friend, methinks!"
"Aye master, and--noble lady!"
"Roger--O Roger, how learned you this? Speak!"
"Lord, thou hast had visions and talked much within thy sickness. So do I know that thou dost love the Duchess Helen that men do call 'the Beautiful.' I do know that on thy marriage night thou wert snatched away to shameful prison. I do know that she, because her heart was as great as her love, did follow thee in knightly guise, and thou did most ungently drive her from thee. All this, and much beside, thou didst shout and whisper in thy fever."
Quoth Beltane, plucking at Roger with feeble hand: "Roger--O Roger, since this thou knowest--tell me, tell me, can faith and treachery lie thus within one woman's heart--and of all women-- her's?"
"Master, can white be black? Can day be night? Can heaven be hell--or can truth lie? So, an Sir Fidelis be faithful (and faithful forsooth is he) so is the Duchess Helen faithful--"