"Nay—rather would I die, Roger."
"But—dear lady—an thou dost want him—"
"I will bring him by other means!" said the Duchess, "aye, he shall come despite himself," and her red lips curved to sudden roguish smile, as smiling thus, she brought them to a certain arbour very shady and remote, and, seating herself, looked from one tanned face to the other and spake them certain matters, whereat the archer's merry eyes grew merrier yet, but Roger sighed and shook his head; said he:
"Lady, here is tale shall wring his noble heart, methinks, wherefore the telling shall wring mine also—"
"Then speak not of it, Roger. Be this Giles's mission."
"Aye, Rogerkin, leave it to me. In faith, noble lady, I will with suggestion soft and subtle, with knowing look and wily wag of head, so work upon my lord that he shall hither hot-foot haste—"
"At moonrise," said the Duchess softly, "this evening at moonrise!"
"Verily, lady, at moonrise! And a blue camlet cloak, say you?"
"Come, Giles, and I will give it thee."
Meanwhile, Beltane, hurt and angry, betook him to the walls where bow and perrier had already begun their deadly morning's work; and coming to a quiet corner of the battlement, he leaned him there to watch where the besiegers, under cover of the cat that hourly crept more nigh, worked amain to dam the moat.