"My lord, I will tell thee. At my grandfather's dying bed I learnt a secret I knew not before."
"And that secret?"
"I am the son of Wulfnoth of Compton."
"So thy grandfather told me—I knew it."
"But I knew not that thou didst slay my kindred—that my mother perished under thy hands in her burning house—and I alone escaped. Had I known it, could I have loved and served thee?—Never."
"And yet repenting of that deed, I have striven to atone for it by my conduct to thee."
"Couldst thou hope to do so? nay, I acknowledge thy kindness."
"And thou wouldst open my castle to the foe and slay me in return?"
"No; we shed no blood—only delivered the helpless. Thou hadst made me take part in the slaughter, the torture of mine own helpless countrymen, whose blood God will surely require at our hands, if we repent not. I have repented, but I could not harm thee. See, I had taken the Cross, and was on my way to the Holy Wars, when thy minions seized me and brought me back."
"Thou hast taken the Cross?"