Enough; we will spare the details. They began to carry out their intention, and soon forced a cry from their victim—although, judging from his previous constancy, I doubt whether they would have got more—when they heard a sound—a voice—
"Stop! let the lad go; he shall not be tortured for me. I yield myself in his place."
"Osric! Osric!"
And the men almost leapt for joy.
"Malebouche, I am he you seek—I am your prisoner; but let the boy go, and take me to Wallingford."
"Oh, why hast thou betrayed thyself?" said Ulric.
"Not so fast, my young lord, for lord thou didst think thyself—thou bastard, brought up as a falcon. Why should I let him go? I have you both."
But the boy had been partially untied to facilitate their late operations, which necessitated that the hands cruelly bound behind the back should be released; and while every eye was fixed on Osric, he shook off the loosened cord which attached him to the tree, and was off like a bird.
He had almost escaped—another minute and he had been beyond arrow-shot—when Malebouche, snatching up a bow, sent a long arrow after him. Alas! it was aimed with Norman skill, and it pierced through the back of the unfortunate boy, who fell dead on the grass, the blood gushing from mouth and nose.
Osric uttered a plaintive cry of horror, and would have hurried to his assistance, but they detained him rudely.