Brian Fitz-Count: A Story of Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey

by A. D. Crake

There the Templar was taken to a chamber, where, upon a rude pallet, was stretched the dying man.

"Thou art ill, my brother; canst thou converse with me?"

"God has left me that strength."

"With what tongue dost thou adore the God of our fathers?"

"English or French. But who art thou?"

The dying man raised himself up on his elbows.

"Osric!"

"My father!"

It was indeed Brian Fitz-Count who lay dying on that couch. They embraced fervently.

"Nunc dimittis servum tuum Domine in pace," he said. "Osric, my son, is yet alive—I see him: God permits me to see him, to gladden my eyes. Osric, thou shalt close them; and here shalt thou bury thy father."