Alas! how often one aspect of chivalry alone, and that the worst, was found to exist; the ideal was too high for fallen nature.  Our youthful readers will be able to judge which aspect was uppermost at Aescendune under its first Norman lords.

Nought was changed in the outward aspect of the scene, save that a stern Norman castle, with its dungeons and towers, was rising in the place of the old hall, doomed to destruction because it was ill adapted for defensive warfare.

Such defect had hardly been appreciated in the days of the old English thane, for England had enjoyed half a century of comparative peace, and her people had begun to build like those who sat at peace beneath their own “vine and fig tree,” ere the Normans brought the stern realities of war into the unhappy land, or rather of serfdom, oppression, and slavery, only varied by convulsive struggles for liberty—­always, alas! destined to be made in vain.

The four pages were one day wandering in the outskirts of the forest, clothed in light hunting dresses—­tunics, confined by broad belts and edged with fur; while leggings protected the feet and ankles from thorns.  They each had hunting spears and bows, which were borne by young thralls, with sheaves of arrows strung to their backs, while they held dogs by leashes of leather.

He who bore the air of the leader of the party was tall and dark, of slender build, but with all those characteristics which denoted the conquering race; the fearless eye, the haughty air of those born to command.  A second, our readers would have recognised as a typical English boy; his nut-brown hair and blue eyes contrasted strongly with the features of his companions, so marked then were those differences which have long since vanished—­vanished, or at least have become so shared amongst the English people, that none can say which is of Anglo-Saxon, which of Norman blood, by the cast of the face.

And this English lad, whose dress in no wise distinguished him from his companions, was evidently ill at ease amongst them; from time to time he reddened as Etienne, Pierre, or Louis called the unhappy thralls “English swine,” “young porkers,” or the like, and bestowed upon them far more kicks than coins.

“You forget, Etienne, that I am English.”

“Nay, my brother Wilfred, thou wilt not allow me to do that, but of course in thy case ‘noblesse oblige.’”

These last words were uttered with a most evident sneer, and the other lads laughed aloud; whereupon the English lad reddened, then his fists clenched, and a looker-on would have expected an immediate outbreak, when suddenly a change passed over his features, as if he were making a violent effort at self composure.

“Thou hast dropped an arrow, thou young porker,” cried Etienne, the while he struck a violent blow with his switch across the face and eyes of one of his attendants; “dost thou think there are so few of thy fellow swine to shoot, that arrows are useless in these woods!  Ah! look at that sight there, and take timely warning.”