Beltane's dagger was out and he rose up from the fern, crouched and strung for action--but from the gloom near by rose a sudden, strange flurry amid the leaves, a whimpering sound evil to hear and swiftly ended, a groan, a cry choked to strangling gasp and thereafter-- silence, save for the fitful wailing of the wind--a long, breathless pause; then, high and clear rose the cry of an owl thrice repeated, and presently small Prat was beside him in the fern again.
"Lord," said he softly, albeit panting a little, "these men were fools! We do but wait our comrades' signals now." And he fell to cleansing his dagger-blade carefully with a handful of bracken.
"Ha--list ye!" whispered Cnut, "there sounds Ulf's warning, methinks!"
And from the gloom on their left a frog croaked hoarsely.
A hundred watch-fires blazed in the valley below and around each fire armour glittered; little by little the great camp grew to silence and rest until nought was heard but the stamp and snorting of the many horses and the cries of the sentinels below. But ever dagger in hand Beltane strained eyes and ears northward across the valley, while big Cnut bit his nails and wriggled beside him in the bracken, and small Prat softly snapped his fingers; so waited they with ears on the stretch and eyes that glared ever to the north.
At last, faint and far across the valley, rose the doleful cry of a curlew thrice repeated, the which was answered from the east by the hooting of an owl, which again was caught up like an echo, and repeated thrice upon their right.
Then Beltane sheathed his dagger.
"Look," said he, "Cnut--Prat, look north and tell me what ye see!"
"Fire, my lord!" quoth Prat. "Ha! it burneth well--see, see how it spreads!"
"And there again--in the east," said Cnut, "Oho! Jenkyn is busy--look, master!"
"Aye, and Roger too!" said Beltane, grim-lipped, "our ring of fire is well-nigh complete--it lacketh but for us and Ulf--to work, then!"
Came the sound of flint meeting steel--a sound that spread along the ranks that lay unseen beyond Prat and Cnut. And behold--a spark! a glow! a little flame that died down, leapt up, caught upon dry grass and bracken, seized upon crackling twigs, flared up high and ever fiercer--a devouring flame, hungry and yellow-tongued that licked along the earth--a vengeful flame, pitiless and unrelenting--a host of fiery demons that leapt and danced with crackling laughter changing little by little to an angry roar that was the voice of awful doom.
Now of a sudden above the hiss of flame, from the valley of Brand a cry went up--a shout--a roar of fear and amaze and thereafter rose a wild clamour; a babel inarticulate, split, ever and anon, by frantic trumpet-blast. But ever the dreadful hubbub waxed and grew, shrieks and cries and the screaming of maddened horses with the awful, rolling thunder of their fierce-galloping hooves!