Beltane.  “And for whom do ye fight?”

Bowman.  “For him that pays most, pecuniae obediunt omnia, brother.”

Beltane (frowning).  “Money?  And nought beside?”

Bowman (staring).  “As what, brother?”

Beltane.  “The justice of the cause wherefore ye fight.”

Bowman.  “Justice quotha—­cause!  O innocent brother, what have such matters to do with such as I?  See you now, such lieth the case.  You, let us say, being a baron (and therefore noble!) have a mind to a certain other baron’s castle, or wife, or both—­(the which is more usual) wherefore ye come to me, who am but a plain bowman knowing nought of the case, and you chaffer with me for the use of this my body for so much money, and thereafter I shoot my best on thy behalf as in mine honour bound.  Thus have I fought both for and against Black Ivo throughout the length and breadth of his Duchy of Pentavalon.  If ye be minded to sell that long sword o’ thine, to none better market could ye come, for there be ever work for such about Black Ivo.”

Beltane.  “Aye, ’tis so I hear.”

Bowman.  “Nor shall ye anywhere find a doughtier fighter than Duke Ivo, nor a leader quicker to spy out the vantage of position and attack.”

Beltane.  “Is he so lusty a man-at-arms?”

Bowman.  “With lance, axe, or sword he hath no match.  I have seen him lead a charge.  I have watched him fight afoot.  I have stormed behind him through a breach, and I know of none dare cope with him—­unless it be Sir Pertolepe the Red.”

Beltane.  “Hast ne’er heard tell, then, of Benedict of Bourne?”

Bowman (clapping hand to thigh).  “Now by the blood and bones of St. Giles ‘tis so!  Out o’ the mouth of a babe and suckling am I corrected!  Verily if there be one to front Black Ivo ‘tis Benedict o’ the Mark.  To behold these two at handstrokes—­with axes—­ha, there would be a sweet affray indeed—­a sight for the eyes of holy archangels!  Dost know aught of Sir Benedict, O Innocence?”

Beltane.  “I have seen him.”

Bowman.  “Then, my soft and gentle dove-like youth, get thee to thy marrow-bones and pray that kind heaven shall make thee more his like, for in his shoes doth stand a man—­a knight—­a very paladin!”

Beltane.  “Who fighteth not for—­hire.  Sir Bowman!”

Bowman.  “Yet who hireth to fight, Sir Dove-eyed Giant, for I have fought for him, ere now, within his great keep of Thrasfordham within Bourne.  But, an ye seek employ, his is but a poor service, where a man shall come by harder knocks than good broad pieces.”

Beltane.  “And yet, ’spite thy cunning and all thy warring, thy purse goeth empty!”

Bowman.  “My purse, Sir Dove?  Aye, I told thee so for that I am by nature cautious—­sicut mos est nobis!  But thy dove’s eyes are honest eyes, so now shall you know that hid within the lining of this my left boot be eighty and nine gold pieces, and in my right a ring with stones of price, and, moreover, here behold a goodly chain.”