Still, how could he help it?  He had done rightly, he felt sure; and he knew that his father would say so were hecums alive.

“And so would my grandfather,” thought he, “once the friend of the Ironside, of whose wondrous exploits he often told me in olden days around our winter fire.  Would his spirit were with me now, and a little of his skill in arms.”

And thus musing, he arrived at the castle and betook himself, with Pierre, to the tilt yard.  Louis went off to seek Etienne, whose second he was to be.

CHAPTER VI.  A REVELATION.

The night was growing dark when Wilfred approached the priory, with the intention of seeking Father Elphege, and putting, as Pierre had said, “his spiritual gear in order.”

As we have remarked in other pages, men then attached no notion of sin to the mere act of fighting—­there could not be a duty clearer to Christians of that strange epoch than to fight with each other whensoever the exigencies of society demanded—­the very institution of knighthood was bound up with the idea.

So he had no anticipation that the good father would say, “Don’t fight.”

But when he approached the great door of the priory, with the venerable figure of the patron saint bending over the archway, a messenger—­a lay brother—­issued forth.

It was almost dark, but the man recognised Wilfred.

“Is it thou, Wilfred of Aescendune, in the flesh?”

“I am he.”

“Then I am glad to see thee, for thus my limbs are saved the toil of seeking thee, and my rheumatics make me dread the night air.”

“Seeking me?”

“Yes, verily; the good prior desireth thee earnestly, and adjured me to fetch thee without delay; and lo!  Saint Cuthbert hath sent thee.”

What could the prior want of him? thought the lad; had he heard of the quarrel, through young Eadwin, and did he disapprove of it?

At all events, he would be saved the trouble of many words; and he entered.

He passed along the cloister, with its ceiling of carved wood and its rude wooden crucifix at the end thereof; he looked out at the little green square of grass, enclosed by the quadrangle, wherein reposed in peace the monks of former generations.  Once the thought flashed over him, that a similar little grassy hillock might, ere a few hours were over, be raised above his own earthly remains; but that did not shake his purpose.

He ascended a spiral staircase and entered the prior’s own cell.

“What, Wilfred! and so soon?  Sooth to say, my messenger hath sped.”

“He met me just outside the gate, father.”

“By the blessing of heaven, my son.”

“But why hast thou sent for me, and why this haste?”

“A dying man wishes to see thee—­nay, do not start! he has a sad confession to make—­one it will harrow thy blood to hear, and he cannot die in peace without thy forgiveness.”