Now when Roger was gone, Sir Benedict arose and setting his hands on
Beltane's shoulders questioned him full serious:
"Mean ye forsooth to make the forests free, Beltane?"
"Aye, verily, Benedict."
"This shall cause much discontent among the lords—"
"Well, we wear swords, Benedict! But this I swear, whiles I am Duke, never again shall a man hang for killing of my deer. Moreover, 'tis my intent forthwith to lower all taxes, more especially in the market towns, to extend their charters and grant them new privileges."
"Beltane, I fear thy years shall be full of discord."
"What matter, an my people prosper? But thou art older and much wiser than I, Benedict, bethink thee of these things then, I pray, and judge how best such changes may be 'stablished, for a week hence, God willing, I summon my first council. But now, dear Benedict, I go to find my happiness."
"Farewell, my lord—God speed thee, my Beltane! O lad, lad, the heart of Benedict goeth with thee, methinks!" and Sir Benedict turned suddenly away. Then Beltane took and clasped those strong and able hands.
"Benedict," said he, "truer friend man never had than thou, and for this I do love thee—and thou art wise and valiant and great-hearted, and thou didst love my noble mother with a noble love, and for this do I love thee best of all, dear friend."
Then Benedict lifted his head, and like father and son they kissed each other, and together went forth into the sweet, cool-breathing morn.