But here, of a sudden, rose the shrill bray of a trumpet without the walls, a long flourish, loud and imperious; and at the sound a silence fell, wherein divers of the townsfolk eyed each other in fear swift-born, and drew nearer to the white-haired Reeve who stood leaning heavily upon his sword, his head stooped upon his broad chest. And in the silence, Giles spake:
"Now, by the ever-blessed Saint Giles, there spake the summons of Robert of Hurstmanswyke—I know his challenge of old—ha, bows and bills!" So saying he bent and strung his bow.
"Aye," nodded Roger, loosening sword in sheath, "and Sir Robert is a dour fighter I've heard."
"So soon!" groaned the Reeve, "so very soon! Now God pity Belsaye!"
"Amen!" quoth Giles, fidgeting uneasily with his bow, "forsooth, Sir
Robert is a very potent lord—God help us all, say I!"
"And Sir Robert likewise," quoth Roger, "for methinks an he come within Belsaye he is like to stay in Belsaye—mind ye Sir Gui, and mark ye my master's look!" And he pointed where Beltane stood near by, chin in fist, his eye bright and purposeful, his mouth grim-smiling; even as they watched he beckoned Walkyn and Eric to him and spake certain commands what time the trumpet brayed again in summons fierce and arrogant.
"Good master Reeve," quoth Beltane, as Walkyn and Eric, obedient to his word, moved into the square to right and left, each with his company, "there is one without that groweth impatient. Let us therefore parley with him from the battlement above the gate."
"Ah, messire," sighed the Reeve, "to what end? 'Tis Sir Robert's summons, and well I know he will demand speech with my lord Gui—alas for us and for Belsaye town!"
"Nay," answered Beltane, "be comforted. Answer as I shall direct and fear ye nothing. Come your ways."
Now when Roger turned and would have followed, Giles plucked him by the arm: