The reason that I ran so hard and then paused by the elm, was because my widowed mother lived in that house.  Knowing that the French meant mischief for a good reason, because one of their arrows, or perhaps a quarrel from a cross-bow, whistled just past my head out there upon the sea, my first thought was to get her away to some place of safety, no easy task seeing that she was infirm with age.  My second, that which caused me to pause by the tree, was how I should break the news to her in such a fashion that she would not be over-frightened.  Having thought this over I went on into the house.

The door opened into the sitting-room that had a low roof of plaster and big oak beams.  There I found my mother kneeling by the table upon which food was set for breakfast:  fried herrings, cold meat, and a jug of ale.  She was saying her prayers after her custom, being very religious though in a new fashion, since she was a follower of a preacher called Wycliffe, who troubled the Church in those days.  She seemed to have gone to sleep at her prayers, and I watched her for a moment, hesitating to waken her.  My mother, as even then I noted, was a very handsome woman, though old, for I was born when she had been married twenty years or more, with white hair and well-cut features that showed the good blood of which she came, for she was better bred than my father and quarrelled with her kin to marry him.

At the sound of my footsteps she woke up and saw me.

“Strange,” she said, “I slept at my prayers who did so little last night, as has become a habit with me when you are out a-fishing, for which God forgive me, and dreamed that there was some trouble forward.  Scold me not, Hubert, for when the sea has taken the father and two sons, it is scarcely wonderful that I should be fearful for the last of my blood.  Help me to rise, Hubert, for this water seems to gather in my limbs and makes them heavy.  One day, the leech says, it will get to the heart and then all will be over.”

I obeyed, first kissing her on the brow, and when she was seated in her armed chair by the table, I said,

“You dream too well, Mother.  There is trouble.  Hark!  St. Clement’s bells are talking of it.  The French come to visit Hastings.  I know for I sailed through their fleet just after dawn.”

“Is it so?” she asked quietly.  “I feared worse.  I feared lest the dream meant that you had gone to join your brothers in the deep.  Well, the French are not here yet, as thank God you are.  So eat and drink, for we of England fight best on full bellies.”

Again I obeyed who was very hungry after that long night and needed food and ale, and as I swallowed them we heard the sound of folk shouting and running.

“You are in haste, Hubert, to join the others on the quay and send a Frenchman or two to hell with that big bow of yours?” she said inquiringly.

“Nay,” I answered, “I am in haste to get you out of this town, which I fear may be burnt.  There is a certain cave up yonder by the Minnes Rock where I think you might lie safe, Mother.”