How Beltane Set Out for Hangstone Waste

Day by day Beltane waxed in health and strength, and daily, leaning upon Roger's trusty arm he walked further afield. And day by day, with growing strength, so grew his doubt, and therewith, by times, a black despond; for needs must he think ever of Helen the Beautiful, and fain was he to tear her from his heart yet could not; then fain he would have hated her, but in his ears her cry rang still--"God pity thee, my Beltane!"--wherefore he was wont to fall to sudden gloom and melancholy.

But upon a certain blithe evening Black Roger stood leaning on his bow-stave to watch where Beltane swam the pool with mighty strokes, who, laughing for very joy of it, presently sprang ashore, panting with his exertions, and fell to donning his garments.

"How think ye, Roger," he cried, "am I fit to adventure me the world again?"

"Forsooth, master, art well of thy wound and fever, and in a week or so mayhap thou shalt perchance be well enough--"

"A week, Roger! I tell thee, man, this very day will I hence!"

"But, master," says Roger, shaking cautious head, "thy world is a world of battles, and for battle art scarce yet strong enough--"

"Say ye so, Roger? Then here and now shalt make trial of me. Art a tall and lusty fellow--come, man, let us try a fall together. And mark this, Roger, an thou canst put me on my back shalt have thy will in the matter, but, an I down thee, then hey! for horse and armour and the forest-road this very night. Come, is't agreed?"