"My thanks are thine. Pardoner. What more would you?"

"Breath, lord methinks," said Giles, "wind, my lord, after periods so profound and sonorous!"

"Lord Duke, right puissant and most potential, I would but tell thee this, to wit, that I did keep faith with thee, that I, by means of this unworthy hand, did set thee beyond care, lift thee above sorrow, and gave to thee the heaven of thy most warm and earnest desires."

"How mean you, Pardoner?"

"Lord Duke, when thou didst bestow life on two poor rogues upon a time, when one rogue stole away minded to betray thee to thine enemy, the second rogue did steal upon the first rogue, and this second rogue bare a small knife whereof the first rogue suddenly died. And thus Duke Ivo, thine enemy, came not before Belsaye until thou and thy company were safe within its walls. So by reason of this poor second rogue, Pentavalon doth rejoice in freedom. To-day is singing on every village green--happiness is in the very air, for 'tis Pentavalon's Beltane, and Beltane is a sweet season; so doth this poor second rogue find him recompense. Verily art well named, lord Beltane, since in thee Pentavalon's winter is passed away and spring is come--O happy season of Beltane, O season of new beginnings and new hopes! So, my lord Beltane, may it ever be Beltane with thee, may it be sweet spring ever within thy noble heart. God keep thee and farewell."

So saying the Pardoner turned about, and plunging into the dense green, was gone.

"A pestilent wordy fellow, lord," quoth Giles, "one of your windy talkers that talketh that no other talker may talk--now give me a good listener, say I."

"And yet," said Beltane, swinging to saddle, "spake he truly I wonder? Had Ivo been a little sooner we had not been here, methinks!"

On they rode, through sun and shadow, knee and knee, beneath leafy arches and along green glades, talking and laughing together or plunged in happy thought.

Quoth Beltane of a sudden: "Roger, hast heard how Giles waxeth in fortune these days?"

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"And methinks no man is more worthy, master. Giles is for sure a man of parts."

"Aye--more especially of tongue, Roger."

"As when he did curse the folk of Belsaye out o' their fears, master. Moreover he is a notable archer and--"

"Art not envious, then, Roger?"

"Not I, master!"

"What would'st that I give unto thee?"

"Thy love, master."

"'Tis thine already, my faithful Roger."

"And therewithal am I content, master."

"Seek ye nought beside?"

"Lord, what is there? Moreover I am not learned like Giles, nor ready of tongue, nor--"




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