The young dweller in the woods had by this time recovered his self possession. He was a mere lad, yet endued with manly courage which fitted him to endure n.o.bly for the sake of those whom he loved.

"Thou art not my true lord, and never wast; neither will I answer thy questions, though thou slay me."

"Then thou mayst prepare for death."

"They live who may avenge me."

"We will chance that. Stand yonder, against the wall, stretch out thine arms, or they shall be stretched for thee.

"Tie him, my men, to that post--" pointing, as he spoke, to one of the uprights which supported the roof, and which was partially detached from the wooden wall--"and extend his arms to the posts on either side."

Conscious that resistance was hopeless, Eadwin submitted quietly to be bound, listening nevertheless so eagerly for sounds from without that Ralph marked his strained attention; Etienne was intent upon his designed cruelty.

"Once more, wilt thou answer me?" he said.

"No," said his victim, quietly and firmly.

"Then thou must suffer. Thou shalt die as thy St. Edmund did--fit death it was, too, for a beggarly English saint. I ask thee for the last time."

No reply. Etienne bade the men stand aside, and then, taking his stand at the other end of the room, which may have been twenty feet long, took accurate aim and shot an arrow through the muscle of the right arm.

"Wilt thou speak?"

Beads of sweat stood upon the brow; but the lips found strength yet to answer--once more the bolt flew, and the left arm was pierced in turn.

"Wilt thou answer my questions now?

"The rebels and fools, thy countrymen, have been amusing themselves by shooting at us all day; methinks the tables are turned now."

He shot again and wounded his victim in the shoulder. The whole frame trembled; the lips moved, as if in prayer.

"Let me shoot this time," said Pierre, "if he will not answer."

"Take the bow then; hit the other shoulder."

Pierre took very accurate aim, and shot right through the heart.

One convulsive throb, and the body hang by the cords dead, and past the reach of suffering.

"Thou fool!" said Etienne, forgetting his customary courtesy to his equals, "thou hast spoilt all--we may never learn the truth now."

"He was too brave a lad to be tortured," said Pierre, upon whom the patient courage of the sufferer had made a very deep impression, "so I gave him the coup de grace."

"My lord, had we not better depart? These English may return at any moment; tomorrow we may come with all the force at our command."

"We will sup first at all events. That soup smells good; it will put a little warmth into our bodies, and it is worth a little risk to have the chance of drying our clothes at this fire."

So they left the body of poor Eadwin where it had fallen, and being now spent with hunger, they poured the soup into basins and ate it greedily.

Suddenly the door was burst open, the room was filled with their foes--uplifted weapons, deadly blows, cries, curses in English and French--in short, such a melee ensued that it pa.s.ses all our power to describe it. The fire was kicked over the place--blood hissed as it ran over the floor and met the hot embers--the torches were speedily extinguished or converted into weapons--men rolled over and over in deadly strife, seeking where to plant the dagger or knife--they throttled each other, or dashed hostile heads against the floor--they tore the hair or beard as they struck beneath, not with the fist, but the knife--on rolled the strife--the very building shook--till there was a sudden lull, and in a few more minutes it was peace.

A dozen Englishmen stood upright amidst prostrate corpses, many streaming with blood; while many bodies lay on the floor, eight of which were discovered, when the lights were rekindled, to be Normans.

Only one Norman yet lived, and he was wounded--it was Pierre.

The young Breton lay on the ground, grievously wounded in several places, yet not mortally--and fully conscious--when he heard an eager voice inquire in a tone of authority:

"What is the meaning of all this? How did they cross the mora.s.s?

Are many of our people hurt?"

He looked up; the voice startled him. Well it might--it was to him a voice from the grave.

There, in the doorway, living and well, strong and well-liking, in the glare of torchlight, stood his former companion, Wilfred of Aescendune.

Their eyes met, and they gazed fixedly, yes, and proudly, upon each other; but the glance of Wilfred softened first. He saw before him the only one of his former companions who had ever given him a friendly word, whom misapprehension alone had estranged from him, which he (Wilfred) had refused to remove.

"We meet again, Pierre de Morlaix."

"Thou art not dead, then. How didst thou escape? Who burnt the monastery?"

"Art thou so demented as to ask me? Dost thou think English torches fired an English house of G.o.d? Times are changed now, and thou seest me surrounded by the va.s.sals of my father's house, who own no lord but their natural chieftain. But where is Etienne? We have watched your party all day, and know that the young tyrant was their leader. Is he amongst the dead?"

"Look for thyself."

No. Etienne was not amongst the dead. How, then, had he escaped?

"Search the premises--search the woods--stop the paths across the mora.s.s--men and dogs, all of you. Better all the rest had escaped: he shall never, never live to be lord of Aescendune."

And Wilfred vanished to give orders out of doors.

An hour had pa.s.sed away; the dead had been removed, the English to be decently buried--for there was an old church built by Elfwyn of Aescendune, during the Danish wars {xi}, and around it lay the graves of those who had died in troublous times; there English priests were still found to serve at the altar; Norman tyranny did not spare the English Church any more than the English n.o.bility.

But the Norman dead were simply carried to a quagmire of bottomless depth which absorbed the bodies, and furnished a convenient though dreadful grave.

And in this division of the slain, young Eadwin, pierced with four wounds, was found; and the arrows, yet remaining, showed at once that he had not fallen in fair strife.

The search for Etienne, still unsuccessful, was being eagerly pursued, when Wilfred returned, bent on questioning Pierre, and beheld the dead body of Eadwin.

He was deeply moved, for he had loved the poor lad, his foster brother, well, and could not easily restrain his emotion, but so soon as he was master of himself, the desire for vengeance superseded softer emotions, and he ordered the wounded Pierre to be brought before him.

He had no difficulty in learning the truth. Pierre, now upon his mettle, somewhat sorrowfully said that as the young thrall would not answer his lord when bidden, Etienne had endeavoured to compel him.

"Thou hadst, then, no part in it?"

"I gave the coup de grace."

"Then thou hast sealed thine own fate: it is folly to extend mercy to those who never show it."

"I have not asked it of thee--of the a.s.sociate of murderers and outlaws."