However, as the evening advanced, a charcoal-burner, passing by with his cart, observed the body pierced with an arrow, and recognised it as that of the king. More humane and considerate than Norman knights and nobles, the charcoal-burner wrapped the corpse in rags, placed it in his cart, and conveyed it to the castle of Winchester. Soon after, Rufus was buried in the choir of that cathedral, where Anglo-Saxon kings and their Danish foes reposed in peace together. Scarcely a tear, however, was shed over the grave of the Red King. The Anglo-Normans felt no grief at his death, and the Anglo-Saxons openly rejoiced that the destroyer had struck down their oppressor in the midst of his pride.
[LII.]
A CHANGE OF FORTUNE.
When a rumour ran through the New Forest that Rufus had fallen, never again to rise, Henry Beauclerc, far from manifesting any excessive grief at the death of his rude brother, sprang upon his horse—which was probably a borrowed one—and, with a resolution to turn the circumstance to the best account, spurred off to Winchester, to secure the royal treasure, as a preliminary step to seizing the crown.
On reaching Winchester, Beauclerc rode straight to the castle, and demanded the keys of the treasury; but, while the officials were still hesitating, William de Breteuil galloped up breathless and in haste, and, in his capacity of treasurer, protested against the keys being surrendered.
"Thou and I," he said to Beauclerc, "ought loyally to remember the fealty we swore to the Duke Robert, thy brother. He has received our homage, and, absent or present, he is entitled to the crown."