incredible--I got together what men I could. Then bidding her
stay behind, with some of them to guard her, and nurse herself,
which she was loth to do, I set out to find you or your bodies.
It was dark, but we rode hard, having lanterns with us, as we
went rousing men at every stead, until we came to where the roads
join at Moats. There we found a black horse--your horse,
Godwin--so badly wounded that he could travel no further, and I
groaned, thinking that you were dead. Still we went on, till we
heard another horse whinny, and presently found the roan also
riderless, standing by the path-side with his head down.

"'A man on the ground holds him!' cried one, and I sprang from
the saddle to see who it might be, to find that it was you, the
pair of you, locked in each other's arms and senseless, if not
dead, as well you might be from your wounds. I bade the
country-folk cover you up and carry you home, and others to run
to Stangate and pray the Prior and the monk Stephen, who is a
doctor, come at once to tend you, while we pressed onwards to
take vengeance if we could. We reached the quay upon the creek,
but there we found nothing save some bloodstains and--this is
strange--your sword, Godwin, the hilt set between two stones, and
on the point a writing."

"What was the writing?" asked Godwin.

"Here it is," answered his uncle, drawing a piece of parchment
from his robe. "Read it, one of you, since all of you are
scholars and my eyes are bad."

Rosamund took it and read what was written, hurriedly but in a