’What did he mean?  To kill ’em?’ said Dan.

’Assuredly.  But I looked at the Lady AElueva where she stood among her maids, and her brother beside her.  De Aquila’s men had driven them all into the Great Hall.’

‘Was she pretty?’ said Una.

’In all my long life I have never seen woman fit to strew rushes before my Lady AElueva,’ the knight replied, quite simply and quietly.  ’As I looked at her I thought I might save her and her house by a jest.

’"Seeing that I came somewhat hastily and without warning,” said I to De Aquila, “I have no fault to find with the courtesy that these Saxons have shown me.”  But my voice shook.  It is—­it was not good to jest with that little man.

’All were silent awhile, till De Aquila laughed.  “Look, men—­a miracle,” said he.  “The fight is scarce sped, my father is not yet buried, and here we find our youngest knight already set down in his Manor, while his Saxons—­ye can see it in their fat faces—­have paid him homage and service!  By the Saints,” he said, rubbing his nose, “I never thought England would be so easy won!  Surely I can do no less than give the lad what he has taken.  This Manor shall be thine, boy,” he said, “till I come again, or till thou art slain.  Now, mount, men, and ride.  We follow our Duke into Kent to make him King of England.”

’He drew me with him to the door while they brought his horse—­a lean roan, taller than my Swallow here, but not so well girthed.

’"Hark to me,” he said, fretting with his great war-gloves.  “I have given thee this Manor, which is a Saxon hornets’ nest, and I think thou wilt be slain in a month—­as my father was slain.  Yet if thou canst keep the roof on the hall, the thatch on the barn, and the plough in the furrow till I come back, thou shalt hold the Manor from me; for the Duke has promised our Earl Mortain all the lands by Pevensey, and Mortain will give me of them what he would have given my father.  God knows if thou or I shall live till England is won; but remember, boy, that here and now fighting is foolishness and”—­he reached for the reins—­“craft and cunning is all.”

’"Alas, I have no cunning,” said I.

’"Not yet,” said he, hopping abroad, foot in stirrup, and poking his horse in the belly with his toe.  “Not yet, but I think thou hast a good teacher.  Farewell!  Hold the Manor and live.  Lose the Manor and hang,” he said, and spurred out, his shield-straps squeaking behind him.

’So, children, here was I, little more than a boy, and Santlache fight not two days old, left alone with my thirty men-at-arms, in a land I knew not, among a people whose tongue I could not speak, to hold down the land which I had taken from them.’

‘And that was here at home?’ said Una.

’Yes, here.  See!  From the Upper Ford, Weland’s Ford, to the Lower Ford, by the Belle Allee, west and east it ran half a league.  From the Beacon of Brunanburgh behind us here, south and north it ran a full league—­and all the woods were full of broken men from Santlache, Saxon thieves, Norman plunderers, robbers, and deer-stealers.  A hornets’ nest indeed!