"Good brother!" he groaned, "O, gentle brother Martin, pity me!"
"What, Walkyn?" quoth the friar. "What do ye thus equipped and so far from home?"
"Home have I none, henceforth, O my father."
"Ah! What then of thy wife, Truda--of thy little son?"
"Dead, my father. Red Pertolepe's men slew them this day within the green. So, when I had buried them, I took my axe and left them with God: yet shall my soul go lonely, methinks, until my time be come."
Then Friar Martin reached out his hand and laid it upon Walkyn's bowed head: and, though the hand was hard and toil-worn, the touch of it was ineffably gentle, and he spake with eyes upraised to heaven:
"O Christ of Pity, look down upon this stricken soul, be Thou his stay and comfort. Teach him, in his grief and sorrow, to pity the woes of others, that, in comforting his fellows, he may himself find comfort."
Now when the prayer was ended he turned and looked upon the others, and, beholding Beltane in his might and glittering mail, he spake, saluting him as one of rank.
"Sir Knight," said he, "do these men follow thee?"
"Aye, verily," cried the archer, "that do I in sooth--_Verbum sat sapienti_--good friar."
"Not so," growled Roger, "'tis but a pestilent archer that seeketh but base hire. I only am my lord's man, sworn to aid him in his vow." "I also," quoth Walkyn, "an so my lord wills?"
"So shall it be," sighed Beltane, his hand upon his throbbing brow.
"Forsooth," cried Giles, "to fight, good friar, _manibus pedibusque_."
"To obey my lord," said Roger, "and speak good Saxon English."
"To adventure my body in battle with joyful heart," quoth Walkyn.
"To make an end of tyranny!" sighed Beltane.
"Alas!" said the friar, "within this doleful Duchy be tyrants a many, and ye are but four, meseemeth; yet if within your hearts be room for pity--follow me, and I will show you a sight, mayhap shall nerve you strong as giants. Come!"
So Beltane followed the white friar with the three upon his heels who wrangled now no more; and in a while the friar paused beside a new-digged grave.
"Behold," said he, "the bed where we, each one, must sleep some day, and yet 'tis cold and hard, methinks, for one so young and tender!" So saying he sighed, and turning, brought them to a hut near by, an humble dwelling of mud and wattles, dim-lighted by a glimmering rush. But, being come within the hut Beltane stayed of a sudden and held his breath, staring wide-eyed at that which lay so still: then, baring his head, sank upon his knees.