"Ay! red, with the blood of deer!"
"And of man, Eadwulf? Nay! man, lie not to me. Dark as it is, I read it in thy black brow and sullen eye."
"Well, then, man's blood, if you will. And now, will you yield your own brother's life a forfeit to the man-hunter, or the hunter of blood?"
"No," answered Kenric, sadly; "that must not be. For you are my brother. But I must know all, or I will do nothing. You can tell me as we go; my home is in the valley yonder. There you can rest to-night; to-morrow you must away to the wilderness, there to be safe, if you may, without bringing ruin upon those who, doing all for you, look for nothing from you but wrong and ingratitude."
"To-morrow! True brotherly affection! Right Saxon hospitality. Our fathers would have called this nidering!"
"Never heed thou that. Tell me all that has passed, or thou goest not to my house, even for this night only. For myself, I care nothing, and fear nothing. My wife, and my mother—these, thy blind selfishness and brute instincts, at least, shall not ruin."
And thereupon, finding farther evasion useless, as they went homeward by a circuitous path among the rocks and dingles, he revealed all that the reader knows already, and this farther, which it is probable he has suspected, that Eadwulf, lying concealed in the forest in pursuance of some petty depredation, had been a witness of the dastardly murder of Sir Philip de Morville by the hands of Sir Foulke d'Oilly and his train, among whom most active was the black seneschal, who had perished so fearfully in the quicksands.
"Terrible, terrible indeed!" said Kenric, as he ended his tale, doggedly told, with many sullen interruptions. "Terrible his deed, and terrible thy deeds, Eadwulf; and, of all, most terrible the deeds of Him who worked out his will by storm, and darkness, and the terror of the mighty waters. And of a surety, terrible will be the vengeance of Foulke d'Oilly. He is not the man to forget, nor are thy deeds, deeds to be forgotten. But what shall I say to thee, obstinate, obdurate, ill-doer, senseless, rash, ungrateful, selfish? Already, in this little time, had Edith and I laid by, out of our humble gains, enough to purchase two thirds of thy freedom. Ere Yule-tide, thou hadst been as free a man as stands on English earth, and now thou art an outlaw, under ban forever, and blood-guiltiness not to be pardoned; and upon us—us, who would have coined our hearts' blood into gold, to win thy liberty—thou hast brought the odor, and the burden, and, I scarce doubt it, the punishment, of thy wicked wilfullness. It were better thou hadst perished fifty-fold in the accursed sands of Lancaster, or ere thou hadst done this thing. It were better a hundred-fold that thou hadst never been born."
"Why dost not add, 'better a thousand-fold thou wert delivered up to the avenger of blood,' and then go deliver me?"
"Words are lost upon thee," replied his brother, shaking his head mournfully, "as are actions likewise. Follow me; thou must have 'tendance and rest above all things, and to-morrow must bring forth the things of to-morrow."