Then spake Beltane, whispering, to Roger, who, sweating with impatience, groaned and stared and gnawed upon his fingers:
"Away, Roger!" And on the instant Roger had turned, and with brawny shoulders stooped, drove through the swaying press and was gone.
Now with every moment the temper of the crowd grew more threatening; voices shouted, fists were clenched, and the scowling pike-men, plying vicious spear-butts, cursed, and questioned each other aloud: "Why tarries Sir Gui?"
Hereupon a country fellow hard by took up the question:
"Sir Gui!" he shouted, "Why cometh not Sir Gui?"
"Aye!" cried others, "where tarries Sir Gui?" "Why doth he keep us?"
"Where tarries Sir Gui?"
"Here!" roared a voice deep and harsh, "Way—make way!" And suddenly high above the swaying crowd rose the head and shoulders of a man, a mighty man in the dusty habit of a miller, upon whose low-drawn hood and be-floured smock were great gouts and stains evil and dark; and now, beholding what manner of stains these were, all men fell silent and blenched from his path. Thus amid a lane of pallid faces that stared and shrank away, the tall miller came unto the wondering pike-men —burst their ranks and leapt upon the dais where stood the gilded chair.
"Ho! soldiers and men-at-arms—good people of Belsaye—call ye for Gui in sooth? hunger ye for sight of Bloody Gui of Allerdale in faith? Why then—behold!" and from under his be-dabbled smock he drew forth a head, pale as to cheek and hair, whose wide eyes stared blindly as it dangled in his hairy hand; and now, staring up at this awful, sightless thing—that brow at whose frown a city had trembled, those pallid lips that had smiled, and smiling, doomed men and women to torment and death—a hush fell on Belsaye and no man spoke or stirred.
Then, while all folk stood thus, rigid and at gaze, a wild cry was heard, shivering the stillness and smiting all hearts with sudden dread:—
"Fire! Fire!"