d
pluck him softly by the sleeve and whisper in his ear to learn if there
was any small vow of which he could relieve him, or if he would deign to
perform some noble deed of arms upon his person. And if the man were a
braggart and would go no further, your father would be silent and none
would know it. But if he bore himself well, your father would spread his
fame far and wide, but never make mention of himself."

Nigel looked at the old woman with shining eyes. "I love to hear you
speak of him," said he. "I pray you to tell me once more of the manner
of his death."

"He died as he had lived, a very courtly gentleman. It was at the great
sea-battle upon the Norman coast, and your father was in command of the
after-guard in the King's own ship. Now the French had taken a great
English ship the year before when they came over and held the narrow
seas and burned the town of Southampton.

"This ship was the Christopher, and they placed it in the front of their
battle; but the English closed upon it and stormed over its side, and
slew all who were upon it.

"But your father and Sir Lorredan of Genoa, who commanded the
Christopher, fought upon the high poop, so that all the fleet stopped
to watch it, and the King himself cried aloud at the sight, for Sir
Lorredan was a famous man-at-arms and bore himself very stoutly that
day, and many a knight envied your father that he should have chanced
upon so excellent a person. But your father bore him back and struck
him such a blow with a mace that he turned the helmet half round on
his head, so that he could no longer see through the eye holes, and
Sir Lorredan threw down his sword and gave himself to ransom. But your
father took him by the helmet and twisted it until he had it straight
upon his head. Then, when he could see once again, he handed him his
sword, and prayed him that he would rest himself and then continue, for
it was great profit and joy to see any gentleman carry himself so well.
So they sat together and rested by the rail of the poop; but even as
they raised their hands again your father was struck by a stone from a
mangonel and so died."

"And this Sir Lorredan," cried Nigel, "he died also, as I understand?"

"I fear that he was slain by the archers, for they loved your father,
and they do not see these things with our eyes."

"It was a pity," said Nigel; "for it is clear that he was a good knight
and bore himself very bravely."

"Time was, when I was you