Now as he leaned thus, a hand slipped within his arm, and turning, he beheld Sir Benedict.
"A right fair morning, my Beltane," quoth he.
"Aye, truly, Benedict," sighed Beltane, "though there be clouds to the west. And the causeway across the moat groweth apace; I have watched yon cat creep a full yard—"
"Aye, verily, by mid-day, Beltane, 'twill reach our wall, then will they advance their ram to the battery, methinks."
"And what then, Benedict?"
"Then shall we destroy their ram forthwith with devil-fire, dear lad!"
"Aye, and how then, Benedict?"
"Then, belike will they plant ladders on the causeway and attempt the wall by storm, so shall we come to handstrokes at last and beset them with pitch and boiling oil and hew their ladders in sunder."
"And after, Benedict?"
"Hey-day, Beltane, here be a many questions—"