no note of battle when you went forth. Oh, why was not I at his
side?"

"He fell not in battle," gloomily replied Sir Rainulf.

"Ha! could sickness cut him down so quickly?"

"It was not sickness," answered Ferrieres. "It was treachery. He
fell in the Isle of Pecquigny, by the hand of the false Fleming!"

"Lives the traitor yet?" cried the Baron de Centeville, grasping his
good sword.

"He lives and rejoices in his crime," said Ferrieres, "safe in his
own merchant towns."

"I can scarce credit you, my Lords!" said Sir Eric. "Our Duke slain,
and his enemy safe, and you here to tell the tale!"

"I would I were stark and stiff by my Lord's side!" said Count
Bernard, "but for the sake of Normandy, and of that poor child, who
is like to need all that ever were friends to his house. I would
that mine eyes had been blinded for ever, ere they had seen that
sight! And not a sword lifted in his defence! Tell you how it
passed, Rainulf! My tongue will not speak it!"

He threw himself on a bench and covered his face with his mantle,
while Rainulf de Ferrieres proceeded: "You know how in an evil hour
our good Duke appointed to meet this caitiff, Count of Flanders, in
the Isle of Pecquigny, the Duke and Count each bringing twelve men