"Messire," quoth he, "all that you say is sooth, but what remedy can ye bring to such as we. Say now?"
"All ye that have suffered wrong, all ye that be broken men--hearken! Life is short and quick to escape a man, yet do all men cherish it, and to what end? What seek ye of life--is it arms, is it riches? Go with me and I will teach ye how they shall be come by. Are ye heavy-hearted by reason of your wrongs--of bitter shame wrought upon the weak and innocent? Seek ye vengeance?--would ye see tyrants die?--seek ye their blood, forsooth? Then follow me!"
Now at this the outlaws began to murmur among themselves, wagging their heads one to another and voicing their grievances thus:
"They cut off mine ears for resisting my lord's taxes, and for this I would have justice!"
"They burned me in the hand for striking my lord's hunting dog!"
"I had a wife once, and she was young and fair; so my lord's son took her and thereafter gave her for sport among his huntsmen, whereof she died--and for this would I have vengeance!"
"They burned my home, and therein wife and child--and for this would I have vengeance!"
"And me they sought to hang to mine own roof-tree!--behold this crooked neck o' mine--so am I Eric o' the Noose. Each one of us hath suffered wrong, great or little, so live we outlaws in the green, lawless men in lawless times, seeking ever vengeance for our wrongs. Who then shall bring us to our desire, how shall our grievous wrongs be righted? An we follow, whither would'st thou lead us?"
"By dangerous ways," answered Beltane, "through fire and battle. But by fire men are purged, and by battle wrongs may be done away. An ye follow, 'tis like some of us shall die, but by such death our brethren shall win to honour, and home, and happiness, for happiness is all men's birthright. Ye are but a wild, unordered rabble, yet are ye men! 'Tis true ye are ill-armed and ragged, yet is your cause a just one. Ye bear weapons and have arms to smite--why then lurk ye here within the wild-wood? Will not fire burn? Will not steel cut? He that is not coward, let him follow me!"
"Aye," cried a score of harsh voices, "but whither--whither?"
"Be there many among ye that know Sir Pertolepe the Red?"