behind, forth galloped Duke Beltane’s second line and after this a third—­ o’erwhelming Ivo’s pikemen by their numbers, and bursting over and through their torn ranks, reformed, and, spurring hard, met Ivo’s rank with crashing shock in full career.  And, behind this raging battle, Duke Beltane rode at the head of his reserves, keen-eyed and watchful, what time Sir Jocelyn was hotly engaged upon the left, nigh unto the town itself.

“Ah, Beltane!” sighed the Duchess, shivering and covering her face—­ “’tis horrible, horrible—­see how they fall!”

“Nay, my brave Fidelis, heed rather how valiant Sir Jocelyn and his knights drive in their advanced lines—­ha!  Benedict, see how he breaks their array—­an he can but turn their flank—­”

“Nay, Beltane—­yonder cometh the Raven banner where Pertolepe spurreth in support—­”

“Aye, but yonder doth my father launch yet another charge—­ha!  Benedict, let us out and aid them—­the way lieth open beyond the drawbridge an we can but turn Ivo’s flank!” quoth Beltane looking ever upon the battle, “O, methinks the time is now, Benedict!”

With Helen’s soft hand a-tremble in his, Beltane hasted down from the tower and Sir Benedict followed, until they were come to the square where, amid the joyful acclaim of the populace, their small and hardy following were drawn up; and, as they came, from townsfolk and soldiery a shout arose: 

“Beltane—­the Duke—­the Duke!”

“My lord Duke of Mortain,” quoth Sir Benedict, “I and thy company do wait thee to lead us.”

But Beltane smiled and shook his head.

“Not so, my lord of Bourne, thou art so cunning in war and hast led us so valiantly and well—­shalt lead us to this battle, the which I pray God shall be our last!  As for me, this day will I march with the foresters—­so mount, my lord.”

Hereupon, from foresters, from knights and men-at-arms another shout arose what time Sir Benedict, having knelt to kiss the Duchess Helen’s white hand, found it woefully a-tremble.

“Alas, my lady Helen,” said he, “methinks thine is the harder part this day.  God strengthen thy wifely heart, for God, methinks, shall yet bring him to thine embrace!” So saying, Sir Benedict mounted and rode to the head of his lances, where flew his banner.  “Unbar the gates!” he cried.  And presently the great gates of Belsaye town swung wide, the portcullis clanked up, the drawbridge fell, and thus afar off they beheld where, ’mid swirling dust-cloud the battle raged fierce and fell.

And behold a sorry wight who hobbled toward them on a crutch, so begirt and bandaged that little was to see of him but bright eyes.

“O Sir Hacon!” cried the Duchess, “did I not bid thee to thy bed?”

“Why truly, dear my lady, but since I may not go forth myself, fain would I see my good comrades ride into the battle—­faith, methinks I might yet couch a lance but for fear of this thy noble lady, my lord Beltane—­aye me, this shall be a dismal day for me, methinks!”