"Whither would ye take me?" quoth Red Pertolepe, arrogant.
"That shalt thou know anon, messire."
"How an I defy thee?"
"Then must we carry thee, messire," answered Beltane, "yet thine own legs were better methinks—come, let us begone."
Thus, presently, having forded the brook, they struck into the forest; first went Walkyn, axe on shoulder, teeth agleam; next strode Sir Pertolepe, head high, 'twixt pale-faced Roger and silent Beltane, while the bowman followed after, calling upon St. Giles beneath his breath and crossing himself: and ever and anon Walkyn would turn to look upon their scowling captive with eyes that glared 'neath shaggy brows.
Now after they had gone some while, Sir Pertolepe brake silence and spake my Beltane, proud and fierce.
"Fellow," quoth he, "if 'tis for ransom ye hold me, summon hither thy rogues' company, and I will covenant for my release."
"I seek no ransom of thee, messire," answered Beltane, "and for my company—'tis here."
"Here? I see but three sorry knaves!"
"Yet with these same three did I o'ercome thy foresters, Sir
Pertolepe."