"Ha!—'tis so I petitioned the good Saint Cuthbert this very night!"
"And lo! he hath answered thy prayer, Roger."
"Verily he regardeth poor Roger these days, master, e'en though my belt doth yet bear many accursed notches."
"They shall be fewer anon, Roger; there be many poor souls for thee to save in woeful Pentavalon."
Hereafter went they a while in silence, until of a sudden Roger halted and clapped hand to thigh.
"Master, we go the wrong way, methinks."
"Not so, we be close upon the forest road, Roger."
"But thou dost know her faithful, master, pure and holy in mind and body—at sure of this at last!"
"Aye," sighed Beltane, "at last!"
"Why then, lord, let us incontinent seek her out."