"Ape!" growled a voice, and the jester was seized in a hairy hand and shaken till his bells jingled; and now Beltane beheld his captor, a dwarf-like, gnarled and crooked creature, yet huge of head and with the mighty arms and shoulders of a giant; a fierce, hairy monster, whose hideousness was set off by the richness of his vesture. "Ape, quotha!" he growled. "Dare ye name Ulf the Strong ape, forsooth? Ha! so will I shake the flesh from thy bones!" But now, she who sat her horse near by so proud and stately, reached forth a white hand, touching Ulf the Strong upon the arm, and lo! in that moment, he loosed the breathless jester and spake with bowed head: "Dear my lady, I forgot!" Then turning to the grinning soldiery he scowled upon them. "Dogs," quoth he, "go to your master and say Helen, Duchess of Mortain bringeth a wedding gift to Ivo, called the Black. Behold here he that slew twenty within the green, that burned down Black Ivo's goodly gallows, that broke the dungeons of Belsaye and bore Red Pertolepe into the green, behold him ye seek—Beltane, son of Beltane the Strong, heretofore Duke of Pentavalon!"
Now hereupon arose a mighty turmoil and excitement, all men striving to behold Beltane, to touch him and look upon his drooping face, but Ulf's mighty hand held them back, one and all. And presently came hasting divers esquires and knights, who, beholding Beltane, his costly mail, his silver belt and golden hair, seized upon him right joyfully and bore him into an inner ward, and threw him down upon the floor, marvelling and rejoicing over him, while Beltane lay there fast bound and helpless, staring up with frowning brow as one that strives to think, yet cannot. Now suddenly the noise about him ceased, all voices were hushed, and he was aware of one who stood near by, a doleful figure swathed in bandages, who leaned upon the arm of a tall esquire. And looking upon this figure, he saw it was Sir Pertolepe the Red.
"Ha, by the eyes of God!" quoth Sir Pertolepe, "'tis he himself—O sweet sight—see, I grow better already! Who brought him, say you?"
"Lord, 'twas the Duchess Helen!" said one. "Helen!" cried Sir Pertolepe, "Helen of Mortain?" "Aye, lord, as her wedding gift to our lord Duke Ivo." Now hereupon Beltane's staring eyes closed, the great muscles of his body twitched and writhed and stood out gnarled and rigid awhile, then he sighed, a slow, hissing breath, and lay there staring up wide-eyed at the vaulted roof again.
"Came she herself, Raoul?"
"Aye, good my lord."
"Why, then—admit her. God's love, messires, would ye keep the glorious
Helen without?"
"Lord, she is gone—she and her ape-man both."
"Gone? Gone, forsooth? 'Tis strange, and yet 'tis like the wilful Helen. Yet hath she left her wedding gift in my keeping. O a rare gift, a worthy gift and most acceptable. Strip me off his armour—yet no, as he came, so shall he bide until my lord Duke be come. Bring now shackles, strong and heavy, bring fetters and rivets, so will I sit here and see him trussed."
And presently came two armourers with hammers and rivets, and shackled Beltane with heavy chains, the while Sir Pertolepe, sitting near, laughed and spake him right jovially.