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--"
"Ha, is this so!" cried Beltane, clenching his fist, "then will he hang and burn!"
"Aye, 'tis like enough, messire. But--O heed me! He goeth for a deeper purpose--list, Beltane--O list--he goeth to seize upon the noble and saintly Abbess Veronica--to bear her captive unto Pentavalon city, there to hold her hostage for--for thee, Beltane--for thee!"
"How mean you?"
"When he hath her safe, Duke Ivo, because he hath learned to fear thee at last, will send envoys to thee demanding thou shalt yield up to him the town of Belsaye and thy body to his mercy, or this fair and noble lady Abbess shall be shamed and dishonoured, and know a death most dire. And--ah! because thou art the man thou art, thou must needs yield thyself to Ivo's cruel hands, and Belsaye to flame and ravishment."
"Not so," answered Beltane, frowning, "within Belsaye are many women and children also, nor should these die that one might live, saintly abbess though she be."
Now hereupon the witch Jolette raised herself, and set her two hands passionately on Beltane's shoulders, and looked upon him great-eyed and fearful.
"Ah, Beltane--Beltane, my lord!" she panted, "but that I am under a vow, now could I tell thee a thing would fire thy soul to madness--but, O believe, believe, and know ye this--when Duke Ivo's embassy shall tell thee all, thou--shalt suffer them to take thee--thou shalt endure bonds and shame and death itself. So now thou shalt swear to a dying woman that thou wilt not rest nor stay until thou shalt free this lady Abbess, for on her safety doth hang thy life and the freedom of Pentavalon. Swear, O swear me this, my lord Beltane, so shall I die in peace. Swear--O swear!"