There was strong sensation. His speech had produced some reaction in his favour. "It is, as we said before, a question of evidence," said the King. "Is any forthcoming on one side or the other? for as yet neither party has really shown who burnt the priory and the monks therein. We have only assumptions, and they are not facts." Lanfranc looked at the King, as if asking permission to speak. The King bent his head, and the Archbishop began, addressing Etienne: "Amongst the followers of thy father, was there a warrior named Guy, son of Roger, born at Malville?" "There was." "Didst thou know him well?" "Intimately." "What became of him?" "He was lost when my father perished--faithful, doubtless, to the last." "Didst thou ever see his mark as a witness to any charter, or the like?" "I did; instead of making a cross, he preferred to draw a bow." "Wouldst thou recognise it, then?" "I should, indeed." "Then," said the Archbishop, holding a parchment folded up so as to conceal all but the name and the mark of a bow beside it, "dost thou know this mark?" "I do; it is the mark of Guy, the son of Roger." "Do ye all," said Lanfranc, turning round, "hear his affirmation?" "We do--" "Then hear what the paper contains." I, Guy, son of Roger, born at Malville, being a dying man, and about to meet my God, do make this, my last confession, for the safety of my poor soul. In the summer of the year 1068, in the mouth of June, I, with twenty other men, who have, so far as I know, perished by firs in the Dismal Swamp, was summoned to wait upon the Baron of Aescendune in a private chamber. He told us that the honour of his house depended upon us, and asked us whether we were willing to stand by him in his necessity. He had selected us well. We were born on his Norman estates, and trained up from childhood to do his will, and that of the devil. We all promised to do whatever he should ask, and to keep the matter a secret. Then he told us that we were to burn the Priory of St. Wilfred at midnight, and to allow none to escape. This we did, we took possession silently of every exit, piled up wood and straw, set it on fire on every side at once, and transfixed all those who tried to break out with arrows or lances, and hurled them back into the flames. Long has my soul been sick with horror that I slew these holy men, and now that all who were my companions in this deed have perished by God's just judgment--burnt alive even as they burned--I, willing to save my soul from the everlasting flame, do make this my penitent confession, praying God to have mercy upon my soul. Given in the Dismal Swamp, in the month of June, 1068. CHAPTER XXIII. "GUILTY OR NOT GUILTY." A dead silence followed the reading of the dying confession of Guy, son of Roger. The mighty Conqueror looked around, as if he would read men's hearts.