r and King; we Normans are too inclined to
such levities. And see, your falcon is first in pride of place. By the
bones of St. Valery, how nobly he towers! See him cover the
bittern!--see him rest on the wing!--Down he swoops! Gallant bird!"

"With his heart split in two on the bittern's bill," said the bishop; and
down, rolling one over the other, fell bittern and hawk, while William's
Norway falcon, smaller of size than the King's, descended rapidly, and
hovered over the two. Both were dead.

"I accept the omen," muttered the gazing Duke; "let the natives destroy
each other!" He placed his whistle to his lips, and his falcon flew back
to his wrist.

"Now home," said King Edward.

CHAPTER IV.

The royal party entered London by the great bridge which divided
Southwark from the capital; and we must pause to gaze a moment on the
animated scene which the immemorial thoroughfare presented.

The whole suburb before entering Southwark was rich in orchards and
gardens, lying round the detached houses of the wealthier merchants and
citizens. Approaching the river-side, to the left, the eye might see the
two circular spaces set apart, the one for bear, the other for
bull-baiting. To the right, upon a green mound of waste, within sight of
the populous bridge, the gleemen were exercising their art. Here one
dexterous juggler threw three balls and three knives alternately in the
air, catching them one by one as they fell [30]. There, another was
gravely leading a great bear to dance on its hind legs, while his
coadjutor kept time with a sort of flute or flageolet. The lazy
bystanders, in great concourse, stared and laughed; but the laugh was
hushed at the tramp of the Norman steeds; and the famous Count by the
King's side, as, with a smiling lip, but observant eye, he rode along,
drew all attention from the bear.

On now approaching that bridge which, not many years before, had been the
scene of terrible contest between the invading Danes and Ethelred's ally,
Olave of Norway [31], you might still see, though neglected and already
in decay, the double fortifications that had wisely guarded that vista
into the city. On both sides of the bridge, which was of wood, were
forts, partly of timber, partly of stone, and breastworks, and by the
forts a little chapel. The bridge, broad enough to admit two vehicles
abreast [32], was crowded with passengers, and lively with stalls and
booths. Here was the favourite