"Then it is agreed!" said Beltane and beckoned to Roger and Walkyn; quoth he:
"Good friends, go now and choose three hundred trusty fellows, skilled foresters all; look that each doth bear flint and steel for by yon clouds I judge 'twill be a dark night. Let every fire within the camp be quenched and the ground well cooled with water, that by the feel of it none may know how long we have removed—see you to this, Ulf."
Now when the mighty three were gone about the business, their fifteen lusty fellows at their heels, Beltane turned and pointed westward, and lo! the sun was set.
"Messires," said he, "you were wise, methinks, to mount and away ere the night fall. To-night, since the moon is hid, 'twill be very dark amid the trees, therefore let Orson guide you—he is forest-bred and well knoweth the way to Thornaby. Heaven prosper you, for in your valiant keeping is the safety of—of our noble lady Abbess—and her ladies. So mount, my lords, press on with what speed ye may, and God aid us this night each and every—fare ye well!"
Presently the trumpets sounded and forthwith armour was buckled on, horses saddled, while everywhere was stir and bustle of departure, what time, within his osier hut, my Beltane was busily doing on his armour, and, being in haste, making slow business of it; thrice he essayed to buckle a certain strap and thrice it escaped him, when lo! came a slim white hand to do it for him, and turning, he beheld the lady Abbess. And in her eyes was yet that soft and radiant look, but nought said she until Beltane stood armed from head to heel, until she had girt the great sword about him; then she set her hands upon his shoulders:
"Beltane," said she soft-voiced, "thou didst yearn for thy mother, so is she come to thee at last, dear son!" So saying, she drew him down into her embrace. "O Beltane, son of mine, long, long have I waited— aye, bitter, weary years, and oft-times in my sorrow I have dreamed of this hour—the arms about thee are thy mother's arms!"
Now fell Beltane upon his knees and caught those white and gentle hands and kissed them; quoth he:
"Mother—O dear my mother, ne'er did I know how deep had been my need of thee until now. And yet, all unknowing, I have yearned for thee; in my youth I did love all sweet and gentle things in thy stead—the trees, the tender flowers, the murmurous brooks—these did I love in place of thee for that mine heart did yearn and hunger for a mother's tender love—" Here needs must she stoop, all soft whispers and tender mother-cries, to kiss him oft, to lay her cheek upon his golden head and murmur over him.
"And thou wilt love thy mother, Beltane—thou wilt love thy unknown mother—now and always, for that she is thy mother?"
"I will love her and honour her now and always, for that my mother is a sweet and noble woman!"