ast he said, for a great spurt of blood coming from
his side, he raised himself a moment on his arm, and then fell back upon
the sand.

We knew not what face of horror we should gaze upon as we essayed to
pull the helm from the head of Le Grand Sarrasin, that never showed his
face to men.

The helm came off in our hands. It was no hideous countenance that it
had masked, nor did we fear to gaze on it in death.

It was the face of my Lord Archbishop of Rouen, whom I had visited in
his house hard by, and whom I had seen disguised in Normandy, that I now
plainly saw.

Where, then, was Le Grand Sarrasin? Le Grand Sarrasin had been none
other than this exiled man, that among the most evil of mankind had
sought to raise a power that might one day overthrow William himself.

And in this ruin of his glory, achieved by grace of Heaven through our
hands, Le Grand Sarrasin was brought to naught.

"Thou knowest who this was?" said Hugo, calmly.

"Ay, well I know," I said.

"Thou and I alone know this dark thing," he said. "Is it well that it
should enter into men's mouths and minds?"

"Thou knowest best, Hugo," I said.

"Then," said he, "I say it were well for the Church of God, and for
men's love of honour, and for truth and righteousness, that none know
but ourselves this dead man's secret. Let him die Le Grand Sarrasin, a
heathen Moor and no baptized Norman."

"But Maugher will be missed," I said.

"Yea; and a meeter tale than this will serve," said Hugo. "A false step,
a squall at sea--anything but _this_." He pointed to the body. "Wilt
thou keep silence?"

"If it be thy will," I said.

"Assist me, then," said Hugo.

So we dragged the body of the exile a short way over some rocks, whose
black bases the deep water washed upon, and weighting it with some great
stones, pushed it into the dark deeps. Thence none would raise him again
to discover what manner of face wore Le Grand Sarrasin; and none would
guess it was no dark visage of the south, but the face of an evil
traitor, so much the more evil that he was called by the two high names
Norman and Christian. There shall he lie till the great blare of
Heaven's trump call good and ill to judgment.

CHAPTER XXI.

Conclusion. How, the above matters being finished, I was made known to
my father.

Thus fell Le Grand Sarrasin, and I would fain finish this chronicle
here, for all matters at the Vale most quickly returned to their old
order, the next year b