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They had a long conversation that afternoon, wherein Grimbeard
maintained that the position of the "merrie men," who still kept up
a struggle against the Government in the various great forests of
the land, such as green Sherwood and the Andredsweald, were simply
patriots maintaining a lawful struggle against foreign oppressors.
Martin, on the other hand, maintained that the question was settled
by Divine providence, and that the governors of alien blood were
now the kings and magistrates to whom, according to Saint Paul,
obedience was due. If two centuries did not establish prescriptive
right, how long a period would?

"No length of time," replied Grimbeard.

"Ah well, then, step father, suppose the poor Welsh, who once lived
here, and whom my own remote forefathers destroyed or drove from
these parts, were to send to say they would thank the descendants
of the Saxons, Angles, and Jutes to go back to their ancient homes
in Germany and Denmark, and leave the land to them according to the
principle you have laid down. What should you then say?"

Grimbeard was fairly puzzled.

"Thou hast me on the hip, youngster."

After this conversation Martin was so fatigued by the day's walk
and all the subsequent excitement, that his mother prepared for him
a composing draught from the herbs of the wood, and made him drink
it and go to bed; a sweet bed of fragrant leaves and coverlets of
skins in one of the huts, where she lodged her dear boy, her
recovered treasure--happy mother.

The following morning, overcome by the emotions of the preceding
day, Martin slept long. He was dreaming of the battle of Senlac,
where he was heading a charge, when he awoke to find that the
sounds of real present strife had put Senlac into his head.

He sat upright, a confused dream of fighting and struggling still
lingering in his distracted mind. No, it was no dream; he heard the
actual cry of those who strove for mastery: the exulting yell:

"Englishmen, on! down, ye French tyrants!"

"Out! out! ye English thieves!"

"Saint Denys! on, on! Saint Michael, shield us!"

Then came the sound of fiercer strife, the cry of deadlier anguish.

For there with arrow, spear, and knife,
Men fought the desperate fight for life.

Martin slipped on his garb, and hurried to the scene. He looked,
gained a sloping bank, and there--

That morning, a merry young knight and his train set out from
Herstmonceux Castle to go "a hunting