"Less," quoth Roger; "Garthlaxton is so strong a score of men have held it ere now. 'Tis accounted the strongest castle in all the Duchy, save only Thrasfordham."
"Truly 'tis very strong!" said Beltane thoughtfully, and lying down again he closed his eyes and spake slow and drowsily—"Aye, 'tis so strong, its garrison, being secure, should sleep sound o' nights. So 'twould be no great matter to surprise and burn it ere the dawn, methinks!"
"Burn Garthlaxton!" cried the archer, and sprang up, scattering the arrows right and left.
"Master!" stammered Roger, "master—"
As for Walkyn, he, having his mouth full and striving to speak, choked instead.
"Lord—lord!" he gasped at last, "to see Garthlaxton go up in flame—O blessed sight! Its blood-soaked walls crumble to ruin—ah, sweet, rare sight! But alas! 'tis a mighty place and strong, and we but four—"
"There be outlaws in the wild-wood!" quoth Beltane.
"Ha!—the outlaws!" cried Giles, and clapped hand to thigh.
"Aye," nodded Beltane, "bring me to the outlaws."
"But bethink thee, tall brother—of what avail a thousand such poor, ragged, ill-armed rogues 'gainst the walls of Garthlaxton? They shall not tear you the stones with their finger-nails nor rend them with their teeth, see'st thou!"