cil as
in the field, and already grey with fame. There was Henri, Sire de
Ferrers, whose name is supposed to have arisen from the vast forges that
burned around his castle, on the anvils of which were welded the arms
impenetrable in every field. There was Raoul de Tancarville, the old
tutor of William, hereditary Chamberlain of the Norman Counts; and
Geoffroi de Mandeville, and Tonstain the Fair, whose name still
preserved, amidst the general corruption of appellations, the evidence of
his Danish birth; and Hugo de Grantmesnil, lately returned from exile;
and Humphrey de Bohun, whose old castle in Carcutan may yet be seen; and
St. John, and Lacie, and D'Aincourt, of broad lands between the Maine and
the Oise; and William de Montfichet, and Roger, nicknamed "Bigod," and
Roger de Mortemer; and many more, whose fame lives in another land than
that of Neustria! There, too, were the chief prelates and abbots of a
church that since William's accession had risen into repute with Rome and
with Learning, unequalled on this side the Alps; their white aubes over
their gorgeous robes; Lanfranc, and the Bishop of Coutance, and the Abbot
of Bec, and foremost of all in rank, but not in learning, Odo of Bayeux.

So great the assemblage of Quens and prelates, that there was small room
in the courtyard for the lesser knights and chiefs, who yet hustled each
other, with loss of Norman dignity, for a sight of the lion which guarded
England. And still, amidst all those men of mark and might, Harold,
simple and calm, looked as he had looked on his war-ship in the Thames,
the man who could lead them all!

From those, indeed, who were fortunate enough to see him as he passed up
by the side of William, as tall as the Duke, and no less erect--of far
slighter bulk, but with a strength almost equal, to a practised eye, in
his compacter symmetry and more supple grace,--from those who saw him
thus, an admiring murmur rose; for no men in the world so valued and
cultivated personal advantages as the Norman knighthood.

Conversing easily with Harold, and well watching him while he conversed,
the Duke led his guest into a private chamber in the third floor [191] of
the castle, and in that chamber were Haco and Wolnoth.

"This, I trust, is no surprise to you," said the Duke, smiling; "and now
I shall but mar your commune." So saying, he left the room, and Wolnoth
rushed to his brother's arms, while Haco, more timidly, drew near and
touched the Ea