"What can have happened to the town—it is well defended with palisades and trench?"
Just then a powerful horseman, evidently a knight at the least, attended by two squires, rode over the entrance of the vallum, and ascended to the summit of the hill. He saluted the Abbot with a cold salute, and then entered into conversation with his squires.
"It is burning even yet, Osric; dost thou mark the black smoke?"
"Thatch smoulders a long time, my lord," replied the squire addressed.
The Abbot Alured happened to look round at Wulfnoth; he was quivering with some suppressed emotion like an aspen leaf, and his hand involuntarily sought the place where the hilt of his sword should have been had he possessed one.
"What ails thee, brother?" he said.
"It is the destroyer of my home and family, Brian Fitz-Count," and Wulfnoth drew the cowl over his head.
The Abbot rode down the hill; he felt as if he were on the edge of a volcano, and putting his hand on his companion's rein, forced him to accompany him.
It was strange that Wulfnoth did not also recognise his own son.