ression which seemed to repel all
enthusiasm, and to deaden all courage.

"Harold," said he, "if but for one such moment thou obeyest the impulses
of thy manly pride, or thy just resentment, thou art lost for ever; one
show of violence, one word of affront, and thou givest the Duke the
excuse he thirsts for. Escape! It is impossible. For the last five
years, I have pondered night and day the means of flight; for I deem that
my hostageship, by right, is long since over; and no means have I seen or
found. Spies dog my every step, as spies, no doubt, dog thine."

"Ha! it is true," said Harold; "never once have I wandered three paces
from the camp or the troop, but, under some pretext, I have been followed
by knight or courtier. God and our Lady help me, if but for England's
sake! But what counsellest thou? Boy, teach me; thou hast been reared
in this air of wile--to me it is strange, and I am as a wild beast
encompassed by a circle of fire."

"Then," answered Haco, "meet craft by craft, smile by smile. Feel that
thou art under compulsion, and act,--as the Church itself pardons men for
acting, so compelled."

Harold started, and the blush spread red over his cheeks.

Haco continued.

"Once in prison, and thou art lost evermore to the sight of men. William
would not then dare to release thee--unless, indeed, he first rendered
thee powerless to avenge. Though I will not malign him, and say that he
himself is capable of secret murder, yet he has ever those about him who
are. He drops in his wrath some hasty word; it is seized by ready and
ruthless tools. The great Count of Bretagne was in his way; William
feared him as he fears thee; and in his own court, and amongst his own
men, the great Count of Bretagne died by poison. For thy doom, open or
secret, William, however, could find ample excuse."

"How, boy? What charge can the Norman bring against a free Englishman?"

"His kinsman Alfred," answered Haco, "was blinded, tortured, and
murdered. And in the court of Rouen, they say these deeds were done by
Godwin, thy father. The Normans who escorted Alfred were decimated in
cold blood; again, they say Godwin thy father slaughtered them."

"It is hell's own lie!" cried Harold, "and so have I proved already to
the Duke."

"Proved? No! The lamb does not prove the cause which is prejudged by
the wolf. Often and often have I heard the Normans speak of those deeds,
and cry that vengeance yet shall await them