"Now do I wish I knew," he declared, emphatically, "which of these may happen to belong to some man who was killed in the battle. Oh, Ned, the son of Webb, let us make trial of this large one that is nearest at hand. Speak thou to yonder gaily apparelled youth in thy best French."
"Ho! whose tent is this?" Ned asked at once, as he rode nearer.
He shouted his question at a young man who appeared to be a sort of esquire, stepping hastily forward from the canvas doorway to meet them.
"This is the marquee of the Sieur Raoul de Berri," replied its custodian. "Whether he be now alive or dead we know not. What news, if any, have ye from the battle?"
"Of thy master I know nothing," said Ned, "but of the battle I can tell thee that the Saxon army is beaten and that Harold the King is dead. Hard hath been the fighting, all day, and the slain are many."
There had been hurrying feet from all directions toward the spot where the two newcomers had halted, and so there had been other hearers besides the gay esquire of Sieur Raoul de Berri. Loud and prolonged were the shouts with which the announcement made by Ned was received, for before this there had arrived doubtful news from the hard contested field.
"Dismount ye and come in," said the esquire. "Well may we feast the bringers of joyful tidings. Whoever ye may be, ye are most welcome. Even while ye are eating and drinking, moreover, we pray you to talk on. We would gladly hear all that we may concerning the great battle. How was it fought? Can ye tell us the names of any that were slain? How fareth it with our liege lord the duke, that shall henceforth be King of England?"
It was truly a good thing that Ned, the son of Webb, was so well practised in his French, albeit the kind he spoke varied much from that which was now being uttered so volubly around him. For once, indeed, Father Brian was left to something which to him painfully resembled silence.
Before long, however, there arrived a swarm of French and Norman clergymen, all of whom could understand the kind of Latin taught in the great school at Clontarf. Speedily, then, the good missionary went out with them, and Ned was left alone to entertain his tent-full of eager and excited listeners. All the while, moreover, the good news spread rapidly through all that camp and was carried on to others.
"Sir," said Ned to the esquire, at last, "I am tired out! I think there is nothing else that will use up a man so completely as a great battle."