"Art thou sorry I pardoned the lad then?"
"No, I like not to see the brave suffer; had he been a coward I should have liked the sport fairly well."
"Sport?"
"It is so comical to see deer-stealers dance on nothing, and it serves them right."
Now, do not let my readers think young Alain unnatural, he was of his period; pity had small place, and the low value set on life made boys and even men often see the ridiculous side of a tragedy, and laugh when they should have wept: yet courage often touched their sympathies, when entreaty would have failed.
But the Lord of Wallingford was in a gentle frame of mind, uncommon in him: he had not merely been touched by the strife, which of the two should die, between the ill-assorted pair, but there had been something in every tone and gesture of the boy which had awakened strange sympathy in his heart, and the sensation was so unprecedented, that Brian longed for solitude to analyse it.
In truth, the prisoners had not been in great danger, for although their judge was pleased to try their courage, he had not the faintest intention of proceeding to any extremities with either grandsire or grandson—not at least after he had heard the voice of the boy.
The party broke up, the Baron rode on alone towards the heights, the sheriff, attended by young Alain, returned down the course of the stream towards the castle. The rest separated into divers bands, some to hunt for deer or smaller game, so as not to return home with empty hands, to the great wrath of the cooks and others also. Malebouche with six archers escorted the prisoners. They rode upon one steed, the boy in front of his sire.
"Old man, what is the stripling's name?"
"Osric."