hooks; especially now Drogo has met his just doom, as they
tell me, and thy friend is about to rule at Walderne. Thou must be
the mediator between them and him.

"But oh! my son, it has been hard to submit to all this. All those
I loved when young carried on the fight, and my own father
bequeathed it to me as a sacred heritage. We hoped to see England
governed by Englishmen, and the alien cast out; and now I give it
up. The problem is too hard for me. God will make it clear."

"My father," said Martin, "I, too, am the descendant of a long line
of warriors, who have never before me submitted to the foreign
yoke. But I see that the two peoples are becoming one: that the
sons of the Norman learn our English tongue, and that the day is at
hand when they will be proud of the name 'Englishmen.' Norman and
Saxon all alike, one people, even as in heaven there is no
distinction of race, but all are alike before the throne."

"And now, my son, art thou not a priest yet? I would fain make
confession of my sins."

"God will accept the will for the deed. He is not limited to
earthly means; and if thou truly repent of thy sins for the love of
the Crucified, and believest in Him, all will be well."

For Martin feared that there would be no time to fetch a priest, or
he would not have questioned the universal precept of the church of
his day; while his own faith led him to see clearly that God's
mercy was not limited by the accidental omission of the outward
ordinance.

"I sent for Sir Richard {36}, the parish priest of Walderne,
ere we left the castle, and he is doubtless on his way with the
Viaticum," said Kynewulf.

And while they yet spake the priest arrived, and the dying man
received with simple faith the last sacraments of the Church. After
this his people gathered round him.

"Tell them," he said, in stammering tones, for the speech was
failing, "what I have said. With thy friend in the castle, and thou
in the greenwood, there will be peace."

Martin turned to the silent outlaws who stood by, and repeated his
words. They listened in silence. The prospect was not new to them,
for Martin's long labours had not been in vain; but while Drogo was
at Walderne, and the royal party triumphant, it seemed useless to
hope for its realisation. Now things had changed, and there was
hope that the breach would be healed.

"His last prayer was for peace," said Grimbeard. "Should not mine
be the same? Oh, God, save my country, gra