“What is that you said? She left you my father’s sword, Wulf? Then wield it bravely, winning honour for our name. She left you the cross, Godwin? Wear it worthily, winning glory for the Lord, and salvation to your soul. Remember what you have sworn. Whate’er befall, bear no bitterness to one another. Be true to one another, and to her, your lady, so that when at the last you make your report to me before high Heaven, I may have no cause to be ashamed of you, my nephews, Godwin and Wulf.” For a moment the dying man was silent, until his face lit up as with a great gladness, and he cried in a loud, clear voice, “Beloved wife, I hear you! O, God, I come!” Then though his eyes stayed open, and the smile still rested on his face, his jaw fell. Thus died Sir Andrew D’Arcy. Still kneeling on either side of him, the brethren watched the end, and, as his spirit passed, bowed their heads in prayer. “We have seen a great death,” said Godwin presently. “Let us learn a lesson from it, that when our time comes we may die like him.” “Ay,” answered Wulf, springing to his feet, “but first let us take vengeance for it. Why, what is this? Rosamund’s writing! Read it, Godwin.” Godwin took the parchment and read: “_Follow me to Saladin. In that hope I live on._” “Surely we will follow you, Rosamund,” he cried aloud. “Follow you through life to death or victory.” Then he threw down the paper, and calling for the chaplain to come to watch the body, they ran into the hall. By this time about half of the folk were awake from their drugged sleep, whilst others who had been doctored by the man Ali in the barn staggered into the hall—wild-eyed, white-faced, and holding their hands to their heads and hearts. They were so sick and bewildered, indeed, that it was difficult to make them understand what had chanced, and when they learned the truth, the most of them could only groan. Still, a few were found strong enough in wit and body to grope their way through the darkness and the falling snow to Stangate Abbey, to Southminster, and to the houses of their neighbours, although of these there were none near, praying that every true man would arm and ride to help them in the hunt. Also Wulf, cursing the priest Matthew and himself that he had not thought of it before, called him from his prayers by their dead uncle, and charged him to climb the church tower as swiftly as he could, and set light to the beacon that was laid ready there.