Now of a sudden, one stirred amid the shadows beyond the fire, mail gleamed, and Black Roger bent over him.
"Master!" he cried joyfully, his eyes very bright, "O, master, art awake at last?—dost know Roger—thy man,—dost know thy Roger, lord?"
"Aye, forsooth, I know thee, Roger," says Beltane, yet aggrieved and querulous, "but I called not thee. Send me Fidelis—where tarries Fidelis?"
"Master, I know not. He came to me within the Hollow six nights agone and gave to me his horse and bid me seek thee here. Thereafter went he afoot by the forest road, and I rode hither and found thee, according to his word."
Then would Beltane have risen, but could not, and stared at Black
Roger's pitiful face with eyes of wonder.
"Why, Roger!" quoth he, "Why, Roger—?"
"Thou hast been very nigh to death, master. A mad-man I found thee, in sooth—foaming, master, and crying in direful voice of spells and magic. Bewitched wert thou, master, in very sooth—and strove and fought with me, and wept as no man should weep, and all by reason of a vile enchantment which the sweet saints forfend. So here hast thou lain on the borders of death and here have I ministered to thee as Sir Fidelis did teach me; and, but for these medicaments, I had wept upon thy grave, for wert direly sick, lord, and—"
"Nay, here is no matter—tell me, tell me, where is Fidelis?"
"Dear master I know not, forsooth!"
"Went he by the forest road?"