HOW BELTANE MADE COMRADE ONE BLACK ROGER THAT WAS A HANGMAN
The sun was low what time Beltane came to a shrine that stood beside the way, where was a grot built by some pious soul for the rest and refreshment of wearied travellers; and here also was a crystal spring the which, bubbling up, fell with a musical plash into the basin hollowed within the rock by those same kindly hands. Here Beltane stayed and, when he had drunk his fill, laid him down in the grateful shade and setting his cloak beneath his head, despite his hunger, presently fell asleep. When he awoke the sun was down and the world was become a place of mystery and glooming shadow; a bird called plaintively afar off in the dusk, the spring bubbled softly near by, but save for this a deep silence brooded over all things; above the gloom of the trees the sky was clear, where bats wheeled and hovered, and beyond the purple upland an orbed moon was rising.
Now as Beltane breathed the cool, sweet air of evening and looked about him drowsily, he suddenly espied a shadow within the shadows, a dim figure—yet formidable and full of menace, and he started up, weapon in fist, whereupon the threatening figure stirred and spake:
"Master—'tis I!" said a voice. Then Beltane came forth of the grot and stared upon Black Roger, grave-eyed.
"O Hangman," said he, "where is thy noose?"
But Roger quailed and hung his head, and spake with eyes abased:
"Master, I burned it, together with my badge of service."
"And what would ye here?"
"Sir, I am a masterless man henceforth, for an I hang not men for Sir
Pertolepe, so will Sir Pertolepe assuredly hang me."
"And fear ye death?"