"Stop your throats, ye hounds, barking and whining for blood. Justice shall be done. Here, Alain, seek the doomster Coupe-gorge and the priest; send the priest to your late friend, and tell the doomster to get his axe ready; tell Osric thyself he dies at sundown."
A loud shout of exultation.
Brian gnashed his teeth.
"Bring forth my steed."
The steed was brought.
He turned to a pitying knight who stood by, the deputy-governor in his absence.
"If I return not, delay not the execution after sunset. Let it be on the castle green."
A choking sensation—he put his hand to his mouth; when he withdrew it, it was tinged with blood.
He dashed the spurs into his steed; the drawbridges fell before him; he rode at full gallop along the route by the brook described in our second chapter. Whither was he bound?