The boyhood of William of Normandy seems to have been full of just such evidences as this of his love of justice, his kind-heartedness, his moral and physical courage--qualities which even in these days of universal education and grander opportunities would stamp a boy as noble and manly, and which were especially remarkable in that age of narrower views and universal ignorance, when even this just and wise boy prince could simply make a rude cross as his ducal signature. So desirous was he for peace and quietness in his realm that, boy though he was, he stood among the foremost advocates of the measure by which the Church sought to limit crime and violence and bloodshed, by instituting what was known as the "Truce of God," and by the terms of which all men agreed to abstain from violent deeds (except in cases of actual warfare) from the night of Wednesday to the following Monday morning in each week. All of William's biographers, however they criticise his later acts, unite in speaking of the excellences of his boyhood: of his wisdom in the choice of counsellors, and his willingness to listen to and follow their advice; of his personal goodness in an age of widespread viciousness; of his grace and skill in athletic sports and warlike exercises, and his expertness beyond all his companions in the excitements and successes of the chase. Of this last-named pastime he was passionately fond, even from early boyhood, and few excelled him, either in the eagerness with which he followed the game, or the skill which he displayed in the hunt. This thought came also to the two mail-clad watchers who, shielded from view by a group of large trees, looked with interest upon a youthful hunter, who, in one of the glades that broke the great stretch of forest near to beautiful Valognes, sped his cloth-yard shaft from his mighty longbow of English yew, and sent it whizzing full four hundred feet, straight to the heart of a bounding buck that dashed across the glade scarce forty yards from the ambushed watchers. "By the mass, a wondrous hit!" exclaimed the older knight. "Why, man, he drew that shaft from nocking-point to pile.[K] I would have sworn that mortal man--let alone a lad like that--could not have drawn such a bow, or sped so true a shaft." "There is but one lad that can do it in all Normandy, and that is yonder hunter," said the younger knight enthusiastic in spite of himself. "Hast thou not known that none but Duke William can bend Duke William's bow--a murrain on him too!" "So, is it our quarry--is it the duke, say'st thou?" hurriedly asked the older knight. "Then the saints keep me out of range of his shaft. Draw off, he comes this way"; and grizzled Grimald de Plessis, the Saxon baron, drew still farther behind the tree-trunks as the young duke and his only companion, Golet, his merryman or fool, dashed across the glade to where the stricken stag lay dead.