Then, grim-smiling in the dusk, Beltane spake: "Now greeting and fair greeting to thee, my lord, and to thy captives. Hath Thrasfordham fallen so soon?"
"Thrasfordham, fool! 'tis not yet invested—these be divers of Benedict's spies out of Bourne, to grace thy gibbets. Come, unbar—down with the drawbridge; open I say—must I wait thy rogue's pleasure?"
"Not so, noble lord. Belsaye this night doth welcome thee with open arms—and ye be in sooth Sir Robert of Hurstmanswyke."
"Ha, do ye doubt me, knave? Dare ye keep me without? Set wide the gates, and instantly, or I will see thee in a noose hereafter. Open! Open! God's death! will ye defy me? gate ho!"
So Beltane, smiling yet, descended from the battlement and bade them set wide the gates. Down creaked drawbridge; bars fell, bolts groaned, the massy gates swung wide—and Sir Robert and his esquires, with his weary captives stumbling in their jangling chains, and his thirty men-at-arms riding two by two, paced into Belsaye market square; the drawbridge rose, creaking, while gates clashed and bar and chain rattled ominously behind them. But Sir Robert, nothing heeding, secure in his noble might, scowled about him 'neath lifted vizor, and summoned the Reeve to his stirrup with imperious hand:
"How now, master Reeve," quoth he, "I am in haste to be gone: where tarries Sir Gui? Have ye not warned him of my coming? Go, say I crave instant speech with him on matters of state, moreover, say I bring fifty and three for him to hang to-morrow—go!"
But now, while the Reeve yet stood, pale in the torchlight, finding nought to say, came Beltane beside him.
"My lord," quoth he, "fifty and three is a goodly number; must they all die to-morrow?"
"To-morrow? Aye—or whensoever Sir Gui wills."
"Ah, fair lord," says Beltane, "then, as I guess, these fifty and three shall assuredly live on awhile, since Sir Gui of Allerdale will hang men no more."