"O ne'er shall my lust for the bowl decline,
Nor my love for my good long bow;
For as bow to the shaft and as bowl to the wine,
Is a maid to a man, I trow."
Looking about, Beltane saw the singer, a comely fellow whose long legs bestrode a plump ass; a lusty man he was, clad in shirt of mail and with a feather of green brooched to his escalloped hood; a long-bow hung at his back together with a quiver of arrows, while at his thigh swung a heavy, broad-bladed sword. Now he, espying Beltane amid the leaves, brought the ass to a sudden halt and clapped hand to the pommel of his sword.
"How now, Goliath!" cried he. "Pax vobiscum, and likewise benedicite! Come ye in peace, forsooth, or is it to be bellum internecinum? Though, by St. Giles, which is my patron saint, I care not how it be, for mark ye, vacuus cantat coram latrone viator, Sir Goliath, the which in the vulgar tongue signifieth that he who travels with an empty purse laughs before the footpad—moreover, I have a sword!"
But Beltane laughed, saying:
"I have no lust to thy purse, most learned bowman, or indeed to aught of thine unless it be thy company."
"My company?" quoth the bowman, looking Beltane up and down with merry blue eyes, "why now do I know thee for a fellow of rare good judgment, for my company is of the best, in that I have a tongue which loveth to wag in jape or song. Heard ye how the birds and I were a-carolling? A right blithesome morn, methinks, what with my song, and the birds' song, and this poor ass's bells—aye, and the flowers a-peep from the bank yonder. God give ye joy of it, tall brother, as he doth me and this goodly ass betwixt my knees, patient beast."
Now leaning on his quarter-staff Beltane smiled and said:
"How came ye by that same ass, master bowman?"
"Well—I met a monk!" quoth the fellow with a gleam of white teeth. "O! a ponderous monk, brother, of most mighty girth of belly! Now, as ye see, though this ass be sleek and fat as an abbot, she is something small. 'And shall so small a thing needs bear so great a mountain o' flesh?' says I (much moved at the sight, brother). 'No, by the blessed bones of St. Giles (which is my patron saint, brother), so thereafter (by dint of a little persuasion, brother) my mountainous monk, to ease the poor beast's back, presently got him down and I, forthwith, got up— as being more in proportion to her weight, sweet beast! O! surely ne'er saw I fairer morn than this, and never, in so fair a morn, saw I fairer man than thou, Sir Forester, nor taller, and I have seen many men in my day. Wherefore an so ye will, let us company together what time we may; 'tis a solitary road, and the tongue is a rare shortener of distance."
So Beltane strode on beside this garrulous bowman, hearkening to his merry talk, yet himself speaking short and to the point as was ever his custom; as thus: