"What?" cried one, coming to his feet, a squat broad-shouldered man-- "be this the dawn so soon? Well, we be ready, better to hang i' the clean air than rot in a dungeon, say I. So we be ready, eh, my brothers?"
But now, some groaned and wept and others laughed, while yet others got them to their knees, bowed of head and silent. Then went in the friar to them and laid his hands upon the squat man's shoulder and spake him gently.
"And is it Osric," said he. "Day is not yet, my son, nor with the day shalt thou die nor any here, an ye be silent all and follow where we lead, soft-footed, so will we bring you to God's good world again. Rise, then, each one, speak nothing, but follow!"
So then did these men, snatched of a sudden from the horror of death to the hope of new life, follow on stumbling feet, out from the noisome gloom of the dungeon, out from the clammy air breathing of death, up the narrow winding stair; and with each step came strength and manhood. Thus as they strode forth of the frowning keep, each man bore sword or gisarm. So, with breath in cheek, but hearts high-beating, they came one and all, to where the slimy stair led down into the gloom. Yet here Friar Martin paused, sighing, to look behind, whence rose the distant hum of those thronging townsfolk who yet crowded wall and street and market square to watch the gallows burn.
"Now sweet Christ shield ye, good people of Belsaye!" he sighed.
"What mean ye, my brother?" questioned Beltane.
"Alas! my son," groaned the friar, "I needs must think upon the coming day and of the vengeance of Sir Gui for this our work!"
"There will be torture and death busy hereabouts tomorrow, my son, for, the prisoners being gone, so will Sir Gui vent his anger on the townsfolk--'tis ever his custom--"
"Ha!" quoth my Beltane, knitting his brows, "I had not thought on this!"--and with the word, he turned him back, drawing on his hood of mail.
"Come, lord," whispered Black Roger in his ear, "let us be going while yet we may."
"Aye, come, my son," spake the friar, low-voiced. "Tarry not, Belsaye is in the hand of God! Nay, what would you?"
"I must go back," said Beltane, loosening sword in scabbard, "for needs must I this night have word with Gui of Allerdale."