Quoth he, firm-voiced:
"My lord, thou hast learned my life's secret, but, ere thou dost judge me, hear this! Long ere thy princely father met thy mother, we loved, she and I, and in our love grew up together. Then came the Duke thy father, a mighty lord; and her mother was ambitious and very guileful— and she—but a maid. Thus was she wed. Then rode I to the foreign wars seeking death—but death took me not. So, the wars ended, came I home again, burning ever with my love, and sought her out, and beholding the sadness in her eyes I spake my love; and forgetful of honour and all save her sweet soul and the glory of her beauty, I tempted her—aye, many times!—tempted her in fashion merciless and cruel insomuch that she wept many bitter tears, and, upon a day, spake me thus: 'Benedict, 'tis true I loved thee, for thou wert a noble knight—but now, an thy love for me be so small that thou canst bring me to this shame, then— take me where thou wilt—but—ne'er shall all thy love nor all my tears thereafter cleanse us from the shame of it.' Thus went I from her, nor have I looked on woman since. So followed I thy father in all his warring and all my days have I fought much—fierce foes within me and without, and lived—a very solitary life. And to-day she lieth dead—and I am here, old and worn, a lonely man and sinful, to be judged of as ye will."
Then came Beltane and looked down into Sir Benedict's pale, sad face. And beholding him thus in his abasement, haggard with wounds and bowed with grief, needs must Beltane kneel also and thereafter spake thus:
"Sir Benedict, who am I, to judge of such as thou?"
"I tempted her—I wooed her to shame, I that loved her beyond life—did cause her many bitter tears—alas!"
"Yet in the end, Sir Benedict, because thy love was a great and noble love, thou didst triumph over base self. So do I honour thee and pray that I, in like case, may act as nobly."
"And now—she lieth dead! So for me is life ended also, methinks!"
"She is a saint in heaven, Benedict, living forever. As to thee, on whose skill and valiance the safety of this fair city doth hang—so hath God need of thee here, methinks. So now for thy sake and for her sake needs must I love thee ever and always, thou noble knight. She, being dead, yet liveth and shall go betwixt us henceforth, drawing us together in closer bonds of love and amity—is it not so, dear my friend?" And speaking, Beltane reached out his hands across his mother's narrow grave, and straightway came Sir Benedict's hands, swift and eager, to meet and clasp them.
For a while knelt they thus, hand clasping hand above that long, white stone whence stole to them the mingled fragrance of the flowers, like a silent benediction. And presently, together they arose and went their way; but now, seeing how Sir Benedict limped by reason of his wounds, Beltane set an arm about him. So came they together out of the shadows into the glory of the morning.
Now as they came forth of the minster, the tocsin rang loud in sudden alarm.