But now, seeing Roger's downcast look, Giles snatched the belt and gave it unto Beltane, who forthwith cut there-from twelve notches. And, in a while, having made an end of eating, Beltane rose and looked round upon the three.
"Good comrades all," quoth he, "well do I know ye to be staunch and trusty; yet to-day am I minded to speak with him men call Pertolepe the Red, lest he shed innocent blood for that we slew his foresters—"
"Twenty lusty fellows!" nodded Giles, with a morsel of venison on his dagger point.
"Nay, there one escaped!" quoth Roger.
"Yet he sore wounded!" said Walkyn.
"Ha! Sir Pertolepe is a terrible lord!" quoth Giles, eyeing the morsel of venison somewhat askance. "'Twill be a desperate adventure, methinks—and we but four."
"Yet each and all—gods!" quoth Walkyn, reaching for his axe.
"Aye," nodded Giles, frowning at the piece of venison, "yet are we but four gods."
"Not so," answered Beltane, "for in this thing shall we be but one. Go you three to Bourne, for I am minded to try this adventure alone."
"Alone, master!" cried Black Roger, starting to his feet.