"He died as he had lived, a very courtly gentleman. It was at the
great sea-battle upon the Norman coast, and your father was in
command of the after-guard in the King's own ship. Now the French
had taken a great English ship the year before when they came over
and held the narrow seas and burned the town of Southampton.

"This ship was the Christopher, and they placed it in the front of
their battle; but the English closed upon it and stormed over its
side, and slew all who were upon it.

"But your father and Sir Lorredan of Genoa, who commanded the
Christopher, fought upon the high poop, so that all the fleet
stopped to watch it, and the King himself cried aloud at the
sight, for Sir Lorredan was a famous man-at-arms and bore himself
very stoutly that day, and many a knight envied your father that
he should have chanced upon so excellent a person. But your
father bore him back and struck him such a blow with a mace that
he turned the helmet half round on his head, so that he could no
longer see through the eye holes, and Sir Lorredan threw down his
sword and gave himself to ransom. But your father took him by the
helmet and twisted it until he had it straight upon his head.
Then, when he could see once again, he handed him his sword, and
prayed him that he would rest himself and then continue, for it
was great profit and joy to see any gentleman carry himself so
well. So they sat together and rested by the rail of the poop;
but even as they raised their hands again your father was struck
by a stone from a mangonel and so died."

"And this Sir Lorredan," cried Nigel, "he died also, as I
understand?"