r pains of back or
shoulder; there were no mean jealousies, no bitter hatreds, no
discourtesies, no words that suit not the sons of good knights or lords,
but wrestle or tussle and mock battle, and tourney, and race by land or
water in summer, when our bodies gleamed white beneath the calm waves as
we played like young dolphins in the bay. And ever and anon would
Brother Hugo be amongst us, his cowl thrown back, and his keen eagle
face furrowed into merriment as he sped on some knightly play--for he
himself was a nobleman, and had been a good knight, and a famous name
lay hid under that long Benedictine robe. Thus, wondrous peacefully and
happily had I been reared with other right princely youths and some of
humble lineage in that fair place. And but one unhappiness ever
disturbed my joyous spirit. It was that while all had fathers and
mothers that loved them, and took pride in their increase in learning
year by year, or else had dear memories of those that were their
parents, I had been told naught of my parents save their name, and
asking of them was bidden not to ask further. This at times was a grief
to my spirit, but amid so many joys it weighed not on me heavily.

Now it was before the coming of the Grand Sarrasin and his troop of the
wild off-scouring of every sea, that settled in the midst of the isle
and defied lord and squire, abbot and prior--it was before those days
with which my chronicle has most to do--that to me, Nigel, sitting
conning an old book of knightly exploits, which for a reward Brother
Hugo let us read on summer days, came a summons to go and see no less a
one than the abbot himself. Now, the abbot was a great man of holy and
blameless life, that sat in his own chamber towards the west, and had
much traffic in matters of State and Church with the duke, and
messengers went often to and fro from him to Caen, Rouen, and Paris, and
in that year, the year one thousand and fifty-seventh since the birth of
the Saviour of men, ever adorable and blessed, there was much afoot, for
William, with the young blood still in him, gaining to himself by force
of will chief power upon the mainland, was already spreading his wings
like a young falcon for another more terrible flight. And lately
Maugher, his uncle, and his bitterest foe though out of his own
household, he had banished, archbishop though he was, from Rouen, to our
small Isle of Guernsey, where there was scarce footing for the tread of
so great and d