But the young brother did not simply play at seesaw. He got the children around him, after a while, and soon held them breathless as he related the story of the Child of Bethlehem and the Holy Innocents, stories which came quite fresh to them in those days, when there were few books, and fewer readers. And these little Sussex children drank in the touching story with all their little ears and hearts. In all Ginepro did there was a wondrous freshness. And that same evening, when the woodmen came home from work, Martin preached to the whole village from the steps of the churchyard cross. It was a strangely impressive scene. The mighty background of the forest; the friar in his gray dress, his features all animation and life; the multitude listening as if they were carried away by the eloquence of one whose like they had never seen before; the tears running down furrows on their grimy cheeks, specially visible on those of the iron smelters, of whom there were many in old Sussex. Close by stood the parish priest, listening with delight and without that jealousy which too often moved the shepherds of the parochial flocks to resent the advent of the friar. And when Martin at last stopped, exhausted: “Ye will both come with me, you and your brother, who has been preaching to my little ones, and be my guests this night.” And they willingly consented. But we must return to our crusader and his fortunes. Chapter 15: The Crusader Sets Forth. The hall of Walderne Castle was brilliantly illuminated by torches stuck in iron cressets all round, and eke by waxen tapers in sconces on the tables. All the retainers of the house were present, whether inmates of the castle or tenants of the soil. There were men-at-arms of Norman or Poitevin blood, franklins and ceorls (churls) of Saxon lineage; all to gaze upon the face of their young lord, and acknowledge him as their liege, ere he left them for the treacherous and burning East to accomplish his father’s vow. The Holy Land! That grave of warriors! How far away it seemed in those days of slow locomotion. A rude oak table of enormous strength extended two-thirds of the length of the hall. At the end another “board,” raised a foot higher, formed the letter T with the lower one; and in its centre, just opposite the junction, sat Sir Nicholas in a chair of state, surmounted by a canopy; on his right hand the Lady Sybil, on his left the hero of the night, our Hubert. The walls of the hall were wainscoted with dark oak, richly carved; and hung round with suits of antique and modern armour, rudely dinted; with tattered banners, stained with the life blood of those who had borne them in many a bloody field at home and abroad. There were the horns of enormous deer, the tusks of patriarchal boars; war against man and beast was ever the burden of the chorus of life then. And the supper—shall I give the bill of fare?