"Messire," panted the jester, wild of eye and with a trickle of blood upon his pallid face, "O sweet sir—let them not slay me!"
Now while he spake, and being yet some way off, he tripped and fell, and, as he lay thus the foremost of his pursuers, a powerful, red-faced man, leapt towards him, whirling up his quarter-staff to smite; but, in that moment, Beltane leapt also and took the blow upon his staff and swung it aloft, yet stayed the blow, and, bestriding the prostrate jester, spake soft and gentle, on this wise:
"Greeting to thee, forest fellow! Thy red face liketh me well, let us talk together."
But, hereupon, as the red-faced man fell back, staring in amaze, there came his two companions, albeit panting and short of breath.
"What, Roger," cried one, "doth this fellow withstand thee?"
But Roger only growled, whiles Beltane smiled upon the three, gentle-eyed, but with heavy quarter-staff poised lightly in practised hand; quoth he:
"How now, would ye harm the fool? 'Tis a goodly fool forsooth, yet with legs scarce so nimble as his wit, and a tongue—ha, a golden tongue to win all men to humour and good fellowship—"
"Enough!" growled red-faced Roger, "Sir Pertolepe's foresters we be, give us yon scurvy fool then, that we may hang him out of hand."
"Nay," answered Beltane, "first let us reason together, let us hark to the wisdom of Folly and grow wise—"
"Ha, Roger!" cried one of the men, "tap me this tall rogue on his golden mazzard!"