"Roger!" said he.
Quoth Roger, his face still hidden: "My throat is bare also, archer!"
"Roger--comrade, give to me thy belt!"
Now at this Roger looked up, wondering.
"My belt?" quoth he, "what would ye, Giles?"
"Cut away thy last notch, Roger--thy belt shall go smooth-edged henceforth and thy soul clean, methinks."
"But I meant to slay thee, Giles."
"But spared me, Roger, spared me to life and--love, my Rogerkin. O friend, give me thy belt!"
So Roger gave him the belt, wherefrom Giles forthwith cut the last notch, which done, they together, like mischievous lads, turned to look where their lord rode far ahead; and beholding him all unconscious and lost in thought, they sighed their relief and mounting, went on together.
Now did Roger oft glance at Giles who kept his face averted and held his peace, whereat Roger grew uneasy, fidgeted in his saddle, fumbled with the reins, and at last spake: "Giles!"
"Aye, Roger!"
"Forgive me!"
But Giles neither turned nor spake, wherefore contrite Roger must needs set an arm about him and turn him about, and behold, the archer's eyes were brimming with great tears!
"O Giles!" gasped Roger, "O Giles!"
"Roger, I--I do love her, man--I do love her, heart and soul! Is this so hard to believe, Roger, or dost think me rogue so base that true love is beyond me? 'Tis true I am unworthy, and yet--I do verily love her, Roger!"
"Wilt forgive me--can'st forgive me, Giles?"
"Aye, Roger, for truly we have saved each other's lives so oft we must needs be friends, thou and I. Only thy words did--did hurt me, friend-- for indeed this love of mine hath in it much of heaven, Roger. And-- there be times when I do dream of mayhap--teaching--a little Giles--to loose a straight shaft--some day. O sweet Jesu, make me worthy, amen!"
And now Beltane glancing up and finding the sun high, summoned Giles and Roger beside him.
"Friends," said he, "we have journeyed farther than methought. Now let us turn into the boskage yonder and eat."
So in a while, the horses tethered, behold them within a leafy bower eating and drinking and laughing like the blithe foresters they were, until, their hunger assuaged, they made ready to mount. But of a sudden the bushes parted near by and a man stepped forth; a small man he, plump and buxom, whose quick, bright eyes twinkled 'neath his wide-eaved hat as he saluted Beltane with obeisance very humble and lowly. Quoth he: "Right noble and most resplendent lord Duke Beltane, I do most humbly greet thee, I--Lubbo Fitz-Lubbin, past Pardoner of the Holy See--who but a poor plain soul am, do offer thee my very insignificant, yet most sincere, felicitous good wishes."