"Behold us here—speak on!" quoth Sir Benedict.
"Thus, then, saith Walkyn o' the Dene: That scarce had he stormed and set fire to yonder prison-keep, than from the south cometh a great company, the which he at the first did take for ye. But, in a while, behold Sir Pertolepe's accursed Raven banner, the which giveth Walkyn much to think. Now cometh to him one beyond all women noble and gracious and holy (as I do know) the fair and stately Abbess Veronica, who, years agone, did build and endow yon great and goodly abbey, wherein all poor desolate souls should be cherished and comforted by her and her saintly nuns, and where the stricken fugitive might find sanctuary and peace and moreover be healed of his hurts. (All this know I since I was fugitive, hurt and very woeful and found me solace there.) So cometh this noble lady to Walkyn (and with her, I) and speaketh him calm and sweetly, thus: 'Yonder rideth Sir Pertolepe that is knight of noble birth, yet the rather would I trust myself and these my good sisters in thy hands, O man! So do I pray thee when thou goest hence, yield us the protection of thy strength, so shall heaven bless thee!' Hereon Walkyn frowned and plucked his beard awhile, but thereafter, came he to kneel and kiss her hand and swear to aid her the while life him lasted. Then summoned he his company (lusty fellows all) and called for thirty men that would remain to hold Red Pertolepe in play what time he seeketh place of greater vantage well beknown to him. Forthwith stood out one Tall Orson hight (a doughty fellow) and with him nine and twenty other lusty fellows, right willing (and with them, I) and thereafter Walkyn formeth his company (the nuns in the midst) and marched in haste for Brand that is a lonely tower. Then did these thirty (and with them I) shoot arrows amain on Pertolepe's vanguard from every place of vantage hereabouts, and met them with right lusty hand-strokes and stayed thus their advance until of the thirty there none remained alive save seven (and of these, I). And, since we could do no more, I (that do know this country from my misshapen youth) brought these men by secret ways unto the Tower of Brand that is desolate and a ruin, yet strong withal. And there lay Walkyn (that is a notable fighter) keeping watch and ward within the tower what time he waited thy succour. Now who so skilful and tender with our wounded as this sweet and gracious lady Abbess! Next day, sure enough, cometh Pertolepe with brave show of horse and foot (above three thousand, lords) and straightway sendeth he a haughty fellow to demand incontinent surrender—a loud-voiced knight whom Walkyn forthwith shot and slew with his own hand. Whereat Sir Pertolepe waxed exceeding wroth and came on amain and beset the tower on all sides, whereby they lost others of their men, for Walkyn's fellows shot exceeding strong and true (and with them, I). Then, O my lords, in all that fierce debate, who so brave and calm, heartening wearied and wounded with gentle voice and gentler hand, than this same noble lady Abbess! For two days lay we besieged whereby our food and drink began to fail (for the well within the tower is well-nigh dried up) yet none did eat or drink so sparingly as this same holy Abbess. Now on this (the second day, lords) cometh Pertolepe himself (under flag of truce, lords) and demands we yield to him the body of this same lady Abbess (to our ransom) swearing on his knightly word he then will march away forthwith, and seek our hurt no more. And, to save our lives, fain would this brave lady have yielded her to Pertolepe's hands. But Walkyn (mindful of his oath, lords), leaning him from the battlement, spake Red Pertolepe defiantly, calling him knave and liar, and therewith spat upon him, very fairly. Whereat Pertolepe sware to hang us one and all and the battle joined again fiercer than before. Therefore, on this the third day, seeing no hope of succour, Walkyn made him ready to sally out (a right desperate venture because of the women). Then spake I before them all, saying I doubted not I might win through, and bring thee to their aid (an ye had kept the tryst) would they but ply their shafts amain to cover me. The which was so agreed. Then did this saintly lady Abbess set her white hand on this my hateful head and prayed the sweet Christ to shield this my monstrous body, and I thereafter being bedight in right good mail (as thou seest) issued suddenly out of the tower whiles our foemen sat at meat, and ran among them roaring dreadfully and smote amain full many until my axe brake and I betook me to my sword and smote them as I ran what time Walkyn's archers shot right furiously and well. Thus came I through Bloody Pertolepe's array, and thus, lords, ye do behold a something weary man and a mighty hungry one withal!"
Now came Sir Benedict to grasp Ulf's great hand.
"Forsooth, hast done a great and noble thing!" quoth he. "Thy twisted body doth hide a great and manly soul, meseemeth, so ne'er shalt lack for friend whiles Benedict doth live!"
And after Sir Benedict came many other knights and esquires of degree, to bring him of their own viands and press upon him rich and goodly wine. In so much that Ulf grew hot and awkward, and presently stole away to eat with Roger in a quiet corner.
But now within the market-place was sound of song, of jest and laughter, where bow-strings were looked to heedfully, sword-belts buckled tighter, mail-coifs laced the closer, stirrup-chain and saddle-girth carefully regarded, whiles ever and anon all eyes turned where Beltane sat among the older knights, Sir Benedict beside him, hearkening to their counsel. And presently he rose and lifted his hand, whereat the trumpets blared and, thereafter, with ring of hoof and tramp of foot, marched they forth of Winisfarne, the sun bright on helm and shield, a right gallant array.
And at their head rode Ulf the Strong.
CHAPTER LVII
TELLETH OF THE ONFALL AT BRAND
By wild and lonely ways Ulf led them, through mazy thicket, o'er murmurous rill, through fragrant bracken that, sweeping to their saddle-girths, whispered as they passed; now rode they by darkling wood, now crossed they open heath; all unerring rode Ulf the Strong, now wheeling sharp and sudden to skirt treacherous marsh or swamp, now plunging into the gloom of desolate woods, on and on past lonely pools where doleful curlews piped, nor faltered he nor stayed until, as the sun grew low, they climbed a sloping upland crowned by mighty trees and thick with underbrush; here Ulf checked his horse and lifted long arm in warning, whereon the company halted, hard-breathing, yet very orderly and silent.