Hereupon rose a hoarse murmur that grew and grew—Then stood the man
Perkyn forward, and scowling, pointed at Beltane with his spear.
"Comrades!" he cried, "he hath slain Tostig! He hath murdered our leader—come now, let us slay him!" and speaking, he leapt at Beltane with levelled spear, but quick as he leapt, so leapt Walkyn, his long arms rose and fell, and thereafter, setting his foot upon Perkyn's body, he shook his bloody axe in the scowling faces of the outlaws.
"Back, fools!" he cried, "have ye no eyes? See ye not 'tis he of whom I spake—he that burned Belsaye gallows and brake ope the dungeon of Belsaye—that is friend to all distressed folk and broken men; know ye not Beltane the Duke? Hear him, ye fools, hear him!"
Hereupon the outlaws stared upon Beltane and upon each other, and fumbled with their weapons as men that knew not their own minds, while Beltane, wiping sweat from him, leaned upon his axe and panted, with the three at his elbow alert and watchful, eager for fight; but Perkyn lay where he had fallen, very still and with his face hidden in the grass.
Of a sudden, Beltane laid by his axe and reached out his hands.
"Brothers," said he, "how long will ye be slaves?"
"Slaves, forsooth?" cried one, "slaves are we to no man—here within the green none dare gainsay us—we be free men, one and all. Is't not so, comrades?"
"Aye! Aye!" roared a hundred voices.
"Free?" quoth Beltane, "free? Aye, free to wander hither and thither, hiding forever within the wilderness, living ever in awe and dread lest ye die in a noose. Free to go in rags, to live like beasts, to die unpitied and be thrown into a hole, or left to rot i' the sun—call ye this freedom, forsooth? Hath none among ye desire for hearth and home, for wife and child—are ye become so akin to beasts indeed?"
Now hereupon, divers muttered in their beards and others looked askance on one another. Then spake the man Eric, of the wry neck.