Meanwhile a lurid light was rising in the woods behind him, and a sense of imminent danger grew on the sleeper when strange outcries arose from the wood.
He was on the border land, twixt sleeping and waking, and the outcries were not all imaginary. There was the voice of one who besought for mercy, and the laughter and scornful tones of those who refused it; and these, at least, were real, for they awoke the sleeper.
The cry which aroused young Wilfred from his sleep was uttered in a tone of distress, which at once appealed to his manhood for aid.
And it was a familiar voice--that of his own foster brother, the son of his old nurse, with whom, in the innocent days of childhood, he had sported and romped again and again; for distinctions of rank were far less regarded amongst the old English than amongst the Normans--they were "English all."
The poor peasant lad had been so unfortunate as to bring down a hare with a heavy stick. The animal had risen just before him; the weapon was ready; the temptation too great. Forgetful of all but the impulse of the moment, he had flung the stick, and the hare fell. He was just rushing to seize his prize, when the three Norman pages came suddenly on the scene.
"Here is a young English lout, killing a hare," shouted Etienne; "lay hold of him."
And before the astonished Eadwin could fly, the son of his lord fulfilled his own command, and seized the culprit by the collar.
"How didst thou dare, thou false thief, to kill one of our hares? Dost thou not know the penalty?"
The unhappy lad stammered out faint excuses, in broken English; "he had not meant to do it--the thing rose up so suddenly"--and the like. But in the first place his captors did not understand his language sufficiently to make out the excuses, neither were they in the mood to receive any.
"What is the law?" said Etienne; "does it not say that he who slays a hare shall lose the hand that did the deed; and here is a poacher taken red handed. Louis, where is thy hunting knife?"