"That is a strange visitant," I said. "The voice might be the voice of a woman. I almost fancied I had heard it before."
"In any case, it is the voice of a friend. The warning is unmistakable; the enemy to be dreaded is Saxon also," said Oswald.
I began to wish most devoutly that the night were past. My nerves were quite unstrung, and the yelp of a fox, or wolf, in the vicinity, the flap-flap, of the night-owl's wing, or the scurrying footsteps of the rabbits, set me in a violent tremble. Oswald headed the party forward, though I would most gladly have called a halt, and waited for the clay. We quickly found that our troubles were not yet past, for not a quarter of a mile had been traversed since our last visitant, when suddenly, and without warning, we were beset behind and before by armed men, who hurled themselves upon us with the fury of wild beasts. Oswald had only time to raise his shield to save himself from the furious stroke of some powerful enemy. Before I had time to realise it, friend and foe were laying about them with the fury of madmen. No sooner did I grasp the situation than immediately I rushed to the front, though it was at the imminent peril of my life. Lifting up the sacred emblem of my office, I cried,—
"Peace! In God's name, I charge peace!"
At the sight of the blessed cross the assailants recoiled a pace or two.
"Who are you?" I cried. "Saxon or Norman?"
"They are Saxon," said Oswald. "I know well who aimed the blows at my life. 'Tis Sigurd, one professing to be of our nation."
"I am not of thy nation, dastardly renegade, dancing attendance upon Norman wenches, and warring in silken hose."
"If I warred with as little sense and as little skill as thyself, I should soon be as impotent as thou art, and have never a Saxon left me to lead to battle."
"Sigurd," said I, in as authoritative tone as I could command, and still holding up the emblem of peace and goodwill to men, "I charge you, in God's name, that you call off your men, and cease this fratricidal strife."