e or otherwise, had been
removed. No more did the dead lord of Fievrault trouble him; but
the old monk, erst the venturous soldier, felt as if he had
purchased this remission with the banishment of his dear son, as if
he had given "the first born of his body for the sin of his soul."

And the impending events had roused up the old martial spirit--the
half-forgotten life of the camp came back to him, and with it the
thought of the boy who would have yearned to distinguish himself on
the morrow, had he been there: the light hearted, pugnacious,
thoughtless, but loving Hubert.

And while he mused, the door opened, and the prior entered. It was
Prior Foville--he who built the two great western towers of the
church.

"Stay without," whispered the prior to someone by his side; "joy
sometimes kills."

The old monk gazed upon the prior with wonder, his face had so
strange an expression. It was like the face of one who has a secret
to tell and can hardly keep it in.

"What is it, my father? Hast thou brought joy or sorrow with thee?"

"Joy, I trust. We have reason to think thy gallant son is not
dead."

The father trembled. He could hardly stand.

"I know he is alive, but where?"

"On his way home."

"Nay!"

"And in England!"

"Father, I am here."

Hubert could restrain himself no longer.

The old man gazed wildly upon him, then threw his arms around his
recovered boy, and raising his eyes to heaven, murmured:

"Father I thank Thee, for this my son was dead, and is alive again;
was lost, and is found."

Chapter 25: The Battle Of Lewes.

The barons, on their side, prepared with sober earnestness for the
struggle. They were not fighting for personal aggrandisement, but,
as an old writer says, "they had in all things one faith and one
will--love of God and their neighbour." So unanimous were they in
their brotherly love, that they did not fear to die for their
country.

It was the dead of night, and a horseman rode towards the village
of Fletching. He was armed cap-a-pie, like one who might have to
force his way against odds. His armour was dark, and he bore but
one cognisance on his shield, the Cross. He was quite alone, but he
knew that farther along he should find a sleeping host. The stars
shone brightly above him, the country lay buried in sleep, scarcely
a light twinkled throughout the expanse.

The sound of a deep bell tolling the hour of midnight reached him.
It was from the priory which h