ierced him, falling. So, last man at the standard, died Gurth.

The sun had set, the first star was in heaven, the "Fighting Man" was
laid low, and on that spot where now, all forlorn and shattered, amidst
stagnant water, stands the altar-stone of Battle Abbey, rose the
glittering dragon that surmounted the consecrated banner of the Norman
victor.

CHAPTER IX.

Close by his banner, amidst the piles of the dead, William the Conqueror
pitched his pavilion, and sate at meat. And over all the plain, far and
near, torches were moving like meteors on a marsh; for the Duke had
permitted the Saxon women to search for the bodies of their lords. And
as he sate, and talked, and laughed, there entered the tent two humble
monks: their lowly mien, their dejected faces, their homely serge, in
mournful contrast to the joy and the splendour of the Victory-Feast.

They came to the Conqueror, and knelt.

"Rise up, sons of the Church," said William, mildly, "for sons of the
Church are we! Deem not that we shall invade the rights of the religion
which we have come to avenge. Nay, on this spot we have already sworn to
build an abbey that shall be the proudest in the land, and where masses
shall be sung evermore for the repose of the brave Normans who fell in
this field, and for mine and my consort's soul."

"Doubtless," said Odo, sneering, "the holy men have heard already of this
pious intent, and come to pray for cells in the future abbey."

"Not so," said Osgood, mournfully, and in barbarous Norman; "we have our
own beloved convent at Waltham, endowed by the prince whom thine arms
have defeated. We come to ask but to bury in our sacred cloisters the
corpse of him so lately King over all England--our benefactor, Harold."

The Duke's brow fell.

"And see," said Ailred, eagerly, as he drew out a leathern pouch, "we
have brought with us all the gold that our poor crypts contained, for we
misdoubted this day," and he poured out the glittering pieces at the
Conqueror's feet.

"No!" said William, fiercely, "we take no gold for a traitor's body; no,
not if Githa, the usurper's mother, offered us its weight in the shining
metal; unburied be the Accursed of the Church, and let the birds of prey
feed their young with his carcase!"

Two murmurs, distinct in tone and in meaning, were heard in that
assembly: the one of approval from fierce mercenaries, insolent with
triumph; the other of generous discontent and indignant amaze, f