understand, Rosamund, you must be
careful, for Godwin ever keeps his word, and that would be but a
poor end for so much birth and beauty and wisdom."

"Oh, cease mocking, Wulf," she answered, laying her hand lightly
on the tunic that hid his shirt of mail. "Cease mocking, and pray
St. Chad, the builder of this church, that no such dreadful
choice may ever be forced upon you, or me, or your beloved
brother--who, indeed, in such a case would do right to slay me."

"Well, if it were," answered Wulf, and his fair face flushed as
he spoke, "I trust that we should know how to meet it. After
all, is it so very hard to choose between death and duty?"

"I know not," she replied; "but oft-times sacrifice seems easy
when seen from far away; also, things may be lost that are more
prized than life."

"What things? Do you mean place, or wealth, or--love?"

"Tell me," said Rosamund, changing her tone, "what is that boat
rowing round the river's mouth? A while ago it hung upon its oars
as though those within it watched us."

"Fisher-folk," answered Wulf carelessly. "I saw their nets."

"Yes; but beneath them something gleamed bright, like swords."

"Fish," said Wulf; "we are at peace in Essex." Although Rosamund
did not look convinced, he went on: "Now for Godwin's thoughts--
what were they?"

"Brother, if you would know, of the East also--the East and its
wars."

"Which have brought us no great luck," answered Wulf, "seeing that
our sire was slain in them and naught of him came home again save
his heart, which lies at Stangate yonder."

"How better could he die," asked Godwin, "than fighting for the
Cross of Christ? Is not that death of his at Harenc told of to
this day? By our Lady, I pray for one but half as glorious!"

"Aye, he died well--he died well," said Wulf, his blue eyes
flashing and his hand creeping to his sword hilt. "But, brother,
there is peace at Jerusalem, as in Essex."

"Peace? Yes; but soon there will be war again. The monk
Peter--he whom we saw at Stangate last Sunday, and who left Syria
but six months gone--told me that it was coming fast. Even now
the Sultan Saladin, sitting at Damascus, summons his hosts from
far and wide, while his priests preach battle amongst the tribes
and barons of the East. And when it comes, brother, shall we not
be there to share it, as were our grandfather, our father, our
uncle, and so many of our kin? Shall we rot here in this dull
land, as by our uncle's wish we ha