met others and from them heard all that had befallen. It would seem that
the French loss in life was heavier than our own, since many of them
were cut off when they tried to fly to their ships, and some of these
could not be floated from the beach or were rammed and sunk with all
aboard by the English vessels. But the damage done to Hastings was as
much as could scarcely be made good in a generation, for the most of it
was burnt or burning. Also many, like my own mother, had perished in
the fire, being sick or aged or in childbed, or for this reason and that
forgotten and unable to move. Indeed on the beach were hundreds of
folk in despair, nor was it only the women and children who wept that
evening.

For my part, with William I went beyond the burning to the house of a
certain old priest who was my confessor, and the friend of my father
before me, and there we found food and slept, he returning thanks to God
for my escape and offering me consolation for the loss of my mother and
goods.

I rested but ill that night, as those do who are over-weary. Moreover,
this had been my first taste of battle, and again and again I saw those
men falling before my sword and arrows. Very proud was I to have slain
them, wicked ravishers as they were, and very glad that from my boyhood
I had practised myself with sword and bow till I could fence with any,
and was perhaps the most skilled marksman in Hastings, having won the
silver arrow at the butts at the last meeting, and from archers of all
ages. Yet the sight of their deaths haunted me who remembered how well
their fate might have been my own, had they got in the first shot or
blow.

Where had they gone to, I wondered? To the priest's Heaven or Hell? Were