"Why, see you now, master, when our foes came not, and you came not, we sent word to Belsaye that, within two days we would march thither, according to thy word, and forthwith Giles sends word back that he was very well and wanted no long-legged Walkyn or surly Roger to share authority with him yet a while, and bid us twirl our thumbs within the green until he commanded our presence—with divers other ribald japes and wanton toys—whereon Walkyn and I waxed something wroth. Therefore, when ye came not, our comrades fell to factions and riot, whereat I, perforce, smote me one or two and Walkyn three or four and so brought peace among them. But when we would have tarried yet for thee, these rogue-fellows clamoured for Walkyn to lead them into the wild, back to their ancient outlawry; so loud they clamoured and so oft, that, in the end, Walkyn smiled—a strange thing in him, master— but he agreed, whereon we came nigh to cutting each other's throats, he and I. Howbeit, in the end he went, he and all the other rogues. So bided I alone in the Hollow, day and night, waiting thee, master, and at the last, cometh Sir Fidelis—and so all's said and behold thy breakfast—a coney, see you, lord, that I snared but yest're'en."
"Our company gone—outlaws, spending their lives to no purpose—here is evil news, Roger!"
"Here is tender meat, master, and delicate!"
"Back to outlawry! And Walkyn too!"
"Aye—but he smiled, master! Walkyn, methinks, is not a jovial soul, lord, and when he smileth it behoveth others to frown and—beware. So prithee eat hearty, lord, for, in a while the sun will stand above yon whin-bush, and then 'twill be the eleventh hour, and at the eleventh hour must I wash thy hurt and be-plaster it with this good ointment."
"What then?"
"Then shalt thou sleep, master, and I to the woods with my bow to get us meat—sweet juicy venison, an the saints be kind!"
"And wherefore at the eleventh hour?"
"For that—She did so command me, master."
"She?" sighed Beltane.