he pointed out that I should do well to avoid
the lady Blanche Aleys who was one far above me in degree, the following
of whom might bring me to trouble, or even to death; moreover, that I
might mend my broken fortunes through the help of my uncle, a very rich
man as he had heard, to whom he would write a letter about me.

Thus this matter was settled.

Still some days went by before I left Hastings, since first I must wait
until the ashes of our house were cool enough to search in them for my
mother's body. Those who found her at length said that she was not so
much burned as might have been expected, but as to this I am uncertain,
since I could not bring myself to look upon her who desired to remember
her as she had been in life. She was buried by the side of my father,
who was drowned, in the churchyard of St. Clement's, and when all had
gone away I wept a little on her grave.

The rest of that day I spent making ready for my journey. As it chanced
when the house was burnt the outbuildings which lay on the farther side
of the yard behind escaped the fire, and in the stable were two good
horses, one a grey riding-gelding and the other a mare that used to drag
the nets to the quay and bring back the fish, which horses, although
frightened and alarmed, were unharmed. Also there was a quantity of
stores, nets, salt, dried fish in barrels, and I know not what besides.
The horses I kept, but all the rest of the gear, together with the
premises, the ground on which the house had stood, and the other
property I made over to William, my man, who promised me to pay me their
value when he could earn it in better times.

Next morning I rode away for London upon the grey horse, loading the
armour of the knight I had killed and such other possessions as remained
to me upon the mare which I led with a rope. Save William there was none
to say me good-bye, for the misery in Hastings was so great that all
were concerned with their own affairs or in mourning their dead. I
was not sorry that it fell out thus, since I was so full of sadness at
leaving the place where I was born and had lived all my life, that I
think I should have shed tears if any who had been my friends had spoken
kind words to me, which would have been unmanly. Never had I felt
so lonely as when from the high ground I gazed back to the ruins of
Hastings over which still hung a thin pall of smoke. My courage seemed
to fail me altogether; I looked forward to the fut