"Lord," spake Walkyn, his voice low and awe-struck, "here is the marsh, a place of death for them that know it not, where, an a man tread awry, is a quaking slime to suck him under. Full many a man lieth 'neath the reeds yonder, for there is but one path, very narrow and winding-- follow close then, and step where I shall step."
"Aye, master," whispered Roger, "and look ye touch no tree as ye go; 'tis said they do grow from the bones of perished men, so touch them not lest some foul goblin blast thee."
So went they, following a narrow track that wound betwixt slow-stirring sedge, past trees huddled and distorted that seemed to writhe and shiver in the clammy air until, beyond the swamp, they came to a place of rocks where ragged crags loomed high and vague before them. Now, all at once, Walkyn raised a warning hand, as from the shadow of those rocks, a hoarse voice challenged:
"What, and is it thou, rogue Perkyn?" cried Walkyn, "art blind not to know me?"
"Aye," growled the voice, "but blind or no, I see others with thee."
"Stand forth that I may see these friends o' thine!" Drawing near, Beltane beheld a man in filthy rags who held a long bow in his hand with an arrow on the string, at sight of whom Roger muttered and Giles held his nose and spat.
"Aha," growled the man Perkyn, peering under his matted hair, "I like not the looks o' these friends o' thine--"
"Nor we thine, foul fellow," quoth Giles, and spat again whole-heartedly.
"How!" cried Walkyn fiercely, "d'ye dare bid Walkyn stand, thou dog's meat? Must I flesh mine axe on thy vile carcase?"
"Not till I feather a shaft in thee," growled Perkyn, "what would ye?"
"Aha, and what would ye with half-hung Eric, forsooth? Tostig's our chief, and Tostig's man am I. As for Eric--"
"Aye--aye, and what of Eric?" spake a third voice--a soft voice and liquid, and a man stepped forth of the rocks with two other men at his heels.
"Now well met, Eric o' the Noose," quoth Walkyn. "I bring promise of more booty, and mark this, Eric--I bring also him that you wot of."
Now hereupon the man Eric drew near, a broad-set man clad in skins and rusty mail who looked upon Beltane with head strangely askew, and touched a furtive hand to his battered head-piece.