We were fair horror-struck at such lawless and brutal doings; and for a time we vied with one another in calling vengeance down on the leaders of that guilty crew and in plans for assisting in their punishment. But in the midst of this an archer came from the courtyard with the word that one of Sir Hugh’s men-at-arms, who had been wounded in the onslaught, had managed to get him to horse and away after the death of his master, and was even now at the gate asking the hospitality of Mountjoy. My father at once gave orders for his welcome; and soon the man, who, after all, had escaped with wounds of no great moment, was sitting at our board with meat and drink before him. When his hunger and thirst were abated, he told us the tale of the churls’ revolt in a somewhat different seeming. Sir Hugh DeLancey, though a loyal follower of the King, a resolute punisher of outlawry, and oft a comrade of my father’s at the jousts and in the battle line, had been a hard master to all his men in kitchen and hall and a heavy-handed overlord to the peasantry about him. Many a one had muttered curses after him when his back was turned; but he was ever quick with riding whip, or oaken cudgel at need, so that almost none dared gainsay him. Now it seemed that but the day before he had sent his steward to the cottage of Oswald, a farmer of his demesne, to say that Oswald was to make ready to receive for the night two of the grooms of Lord Westerby who were to accompany their master on a two-days’ deer hunt in Sir Hugh’s forests. By ill hap it chanced that Dame Margery, Oswald’s wife, was ill-a-bed at the time, and appeared to be nigh unto her death; and Oswald sent back the word to his master that on this account he could not receive the two men that were to be quartered on him. The steward, however, held an old grudge against Oswald; and so, returning to his master, spoke but the half of Oswald’s answer, saying only that the farmer refused to have the grooms in his cottage. When Sir Hugh heard this, he flew into a rage, called for his horse and rode to Oswald’s door, followed at a little distance by this retainer who now told us the tale. Arrived before the cottage door, he drew his sword, and, taking it by the blade, pounded with might and main with the butt on the panel. Oswald came forth, and, angered by this unseemly noise at the door of what would soon be a house of mourning, spoke roughly to his liege lord, requesting him to withdraw and leave the dying in peace.