"And wherefore?"
"Master," quoth Roger, glancing furtively about, "in my youth I did see a goodly man be-devilled by horrid spells by an ancient hag that was a noted witch, and he acted thus—a poor wight that was thereafter damnably be-devilled into a small, black rabbit, see you—"
"Saw you all this indeed, Roger?"
"All but the be-devilling, master, for being young and sore frighted I ran away and hid myself. But afterwards saw I the old woman with the black rabbit in a cage—wherefore the vile hag was stoned to death, and the black rabbit, that was her familiar, also—and very properly. And, lord, because I do love thee, rather would I see thee dead than a rabbit or a toad or lewd cur—wherefore now I pray thee cross thy fingers and repeat after me—"
"Nay, my faithful Roger, never fear, here is no witchcraft. 'Tis but that within the hour the blind doth see, the fool hath got him some little wisdom."
"Master, how mean you?"
"This night, Roger, I have learned this great truth: that white can never be black, nor day night, nor truth lie—and here is great matter for thought, wherefore as I walk, I think."
Now hereupon Black Roger halted and looked upon Beltane glad-eyed.
"Lord," he cried, "is it that ye do know the very truth at last—of Sir
Fidelis—that glorious lady, thy Duchess Helen?"
"Aye, the very truth at last, Roger."