"Nay, dear my Benedict, first must Pentavalon win to peace."
"Aye, by Helen's noble love, for--"
"O Sir Benedict, I have sworn an oath!"
"Aye, sweet lad, but Roger hath prayed a prayer!"
"Hath he told thee so much, Benedict?"
"So much," quoth Sir Benedict, pressing his arm, "so much, O man, that hereafter needs must I love thee and honour thee the more. Since man art thou, my Beltane, for all thy so great youthfulness."
"Nay, Benedict, am none so youthful."
"Thy very speech doth prove thee so, yet, being boy, thou art forsooth a man to-day."
"And wherefore?"
"For that to-day I do know more of thee. 'Tis suffering, 'tis sorrow nobly borne doth make the man, Beltane."
"Suffering, messire?"
"Yon lock of hair showeth very white amid the gold, Beltane, but thou art better man therefore, methinks. The fetters of thy dungeon yet gleam upon thy wrists, Beltane. But truly I do think within thy prison was forged the sword shall avenge our woes and free Pentavalon at last."
"Think you indeed, thou wise Benedict, that we by grief and sorrow do rise to find our nobler selves?"
"Aye verily! 'Tis but by sorrow and suffering our strength or weakness groweth manifest, Beltane."
"Yet--O Benedict--I did doubt her--plied her with scornful tongue and-- drave her lonely from me!"
"And dost grieve amain, and sorrow therefore, O youth!"
"Yea, indeed, indeed--sleeping and waking!"
"And do yearn to woo her to forgiveness on thy knees, to crush her in thine arms and kiss her breath away, O Lover?"
"Aye, dear Sir Benedict, in such sort and so greatly that my passion oft doth fright me, so fiercely do I yearn and long--yet tremble and grow faint at thought of it!"
"Yet art thou here, bedight in arms, O man--thy yearning body far removed from all temptation till thou hast proved thee worthy her embrace! And thus it is I know thee for a man, my Beltane!"
"And thou, Benedict, thou hast yearned and trembled with love ere now, thou hast been a lover once, methinks?" But here Sir Benedict fell to silence, walking with face averted and gaze bent towards the dewy grass, and quickened his steps until they were come nigh unto the camp. Then lifted he his head; quoth he: "My lord Beltane, how think you of this thy new-found company?"
"Men--ha! men, good Benedict--soldiers born and bred!"
"Forsooth, and 'neath mine own eye, Beltane. There is not one but I have watched him in the stress of battle. Body o' me, but I have chosen needfully, there is none but hath proved his worthiness! See you the little man yonder, in half-mail with sword as great as himself--he that pipeth shrill-voiced as a boy? 'Tis Prat who alone stood off a score what time I lay wounded and pinned beneath my charger. Mark ye yon lusty fellow beside him? 'Tis Cnut that, single-handed, hewed him a path through Ivo's battle and bare away his own banner, the which doth grace my hall at Thrasfordham e'en now. And yonder is Dirk that was a slave, yet fighteth like a paladin. And there again is Siward, that with his brother maintained the sallyport 'gainst Ivo's van what time they drave us from the outer bailey. And yonder Cedric--but so could I name them each and every--ha! there sounds the welcome tucket! Come, let us break our fast, and there be many knights and esquires and gentles of degree do wait to pay thee homage."