“So you will live after all, my nephew,” he said, “and for that I thank the giver of life and death, since by God, you are a gallant man—a worthy child of the bloods of the Norman D’Arcy and of Uluin the Saxon. Yes, one of the best of them.” “Speak not so, my uncle,” said Godwin; “or at least, here is a worthier,”—and he patted the hand of Wulf with his lean fingers. “It was Wulf who bore me through. Oh, I remember as much as that—how he lifted me onto the black horse and bade me to cling fast to mane and pommel. Ay, and I remember the charge, and his cry of ‘Contre D’Arcy, contre Mort!’ and the flashing of swords about us, and after that—nothing.” “Would that I had been there to help in that fight,” said Sir Andrew D’Arcy, tossing his white hair. “Oh, my children, it is hard to be sick and old. A log am I—naught but a rotting log. Still, had I only known—” “Father, father,” said Rosamund, casting her white arm about his neck. “You should not speak thus. You have done your share.” “Yes, my share; but I should like to do more. Oh, St. Andrew, ask it for me that I may die with sword aloft and my grandsire’s cry upon my lips. Yes, yes; thus, not like a worn-out war-horse in his stall. There, pardon me; but in truth, my children, I am jealous of you. Why, when I found you lying in each other’s arms I could have wept for rage to think that such a fray had been within a league of my own doors and I not in it.” “I know nothing of all that story,” said Godwin. “No, in truth, how can you, who have been senseless this month or more? But Rosamund knows, and she shall tell it you. Speak on, Rosamund. Lay you back, Godwin, and listen.” “The tale is yours, my cousins, and not mine,” said Rosamund. “You bade me take the water, and into it I spurred the grey horse, and we sank deep, so that the waves closed above my head. Then up we came, I floating from the saddle, but I regained it, and the horse answered to my voice and bridle, and swam out for the further shore. On it swam, somewhat slantwise with the tide, so that by turning my head I could see all that passed upon the mole. I saw them come at you, and men fall before your swords; I saw you charge them, and run back again. Lastly, after what seemed a very long while, when I was far away, I saw Wulf lift Godwin into the saddle—I knew it must be Godwin, because he set him on the black horse—and the pair of you galloped down the quay and vanished.