"Nay," whispered the friar, with pleading hand on Beltane's arm, "'tis thing impossible—"
"Yet must I try, good brother—"
"Ah, dear my son, 'twill be thy death—"
"Why look you, gentle friar, I am in Belsaye, and Belsaye 'is in the hand of God!' So fear not for me, but go you all and wait for me beyond the river. And, if I come not within the hour, then press on with speed for Thrasfordham within Bourne, and say to Sir Benedict that, while he liveth to draw sword, so is there hope for Pentavalon. But now— quick!—where lodgeth Sir Gui?"
"Within the keep—there is a stair doth mount within the thickness of the wall—nay, I will be thy guide if go indeed thou must—"
"Not so, good friar, be it thy duty to lead these prisoners to freedom and to safety within Bourne."
"Then will I come," whispered Roger hoarse and eager, as the friar turned slow-footed to follow the others adown the slippery stair, "beseech thee, lord, thy man am I, twice sworn to thee till death, so suffer me beside thee."
"Nay," said Beltane, "Pentavalon's need of thee is greater e'en than mine, therefore will I adventure this thing alone. Go you with the friar, my Roger, and so farewell to each."
"God keep thee, noble son!" whispered the friar, his hand upraised in blessing: but Roger stood, chin on breast and spake no word.
Then Beltane turned him and sped away, soft-treading in the shadow of the great keep.