And there were Sexwulf and Ulf, Tosti and Elfwold, Ernulph and Ordgar, Oslac and Osgood, Wulfsy and Ringulph, Frithgist and Wulfgar—­men whose names sounded rough and uncouth in Norman ears, but were familiar enough to the natives.

The whole party having assembled, Wilfred, as a consequence of his rank, spoke first and opened the debate.

“We have all come together tonight, Englishmen and friends, to consider what we shall do in a very grave crisis—­the gravest which has yet occurred since we fled to this refuge from the Norman tyrant Hugo—­whom may the saints confound.  The thrall, Oslac, imperilling his life for our sake, has been to Aescendune, and brings us back certain information that there is a great gathering of men and horse to explore the swamp, for they guess shrewdly that we are hidden here, and they know now who burnt their farms and slew their men in the woods—­thus making them afraid, the cowards, to venture therein save in large parties.

“But since the old bear has lost his cub, his thirst for vengeance incites him to stake all upon one grand attempt to penetrate our fastnesses, and the dryness of the season seems to him to make it possible.”

“Our pools and sloughs are never quite dry—­they are bottomless,” said Beorn, “and you might stow away the castle of Aescendune in some of them, and ’twould sink out of sight.”

“But it is our object to foil his good intentions towards us:  sooner or later we must fight him, and why not now?  Haga, my father, thou art the oldest and wisest here present; speak, and we will be guided by thy counsel.”

“Let the Norman come,” said the sage solemnly; “he shall perish in his pride.”

“In what manner shall he die?”

“By the death meet for the sacrilegious destroyer of the priory—­by fire—­it is God’s will, revealed to me in visions of the night.”

“Fire? how?” cried several; then one common idea seemed to strike them all.

“The reeds.  Once entangled in the marshes, we might fire them all round.”

“But how shall we get him to enter the marshes where the dry rushes are thickest?”

“There is a bed of rushes and weeds half a mile across, around the heron’s pool, and it is now so dry just there, that it would bear the accursed foe, horses, and armour, could they be enticed to follow the path which traverses it.”

“Who shall entice them and prevail?” said Beorn.

“Will any of our men risk their own lives and volunteer as guides to the Normans?  They are seeking guides everywhere.”

There was a dead silence.  At length a man arose—­Ordgar, son of Haga.

“I will take my life in my hand to deliver my people from the tyranny of this Norman wolf.”

“God bless thee, my son,” said his aged sire; “thou art the light of mine eyes, but I can risk thee in thy country’s cause and the cause of the House of Aescendune.”