"Now therefore, all ye that do love Pentavalon—follow!"
Thus saying, my Beltane wheeled his horse; and with rhythmic ring and clash, together, rank on rank, horsemen and footmen, they followed hard behind, a silent, grim array, with eyes that gleamed 'neath helm and bascinet, and purposeful hands that griped full strong on lance and spear-shaft, as, coming to the forest-road, they swung away northwards towards Winisfarne.
CHAPTER LVI
WHAT THEY FOUND AT WINISFARNE
Two and two they rode—for the way was oft-times narrow—their flanks well covered by light-armed archers who marched within the green, with mounted archers far in their van and others in their rear.
A glory of sun dappled their way with dancing shadows, flowers were a-bloom in bank and hedgerow, and birds carolled blithe in the fragrant air, what time Sir Benedict rode beside Beltane, his ponderous casque a-swing at saddle-bow; and oft he turned his grizzled head to view my thoughtful Beltane as one might look upon a son, new-found.
Now in a while Beltane turned and meeting his look reached out to him his hand.
"Dear Benedict," said he, "how much—how very much I owe to thee. Thou art methinks the greatest knight that e'er couched lance—"
"Save thy noble father!" quoth Sir Benedict with solemn nod.
"My father—you were his esquire and much-loved comrade, Benedict?"