Brand knows, I always sleep with my sword under my pillow."

"O that such a mother should have borne such a son." groaned the Abbot, as
they went in.

On the fifth day came Martin Lightfoot, and found Hereward in Prior
Brand's private cell.

"Well?" asked Hereward coolly.

"Is he--? Is he--?" stammered Brand, and could not finish his sentence.

Martin nodded.

Hereward laughed,--a loud, swaggering, hysterical laugh.

"See what it is to be born of just and pious parents. Come, Master
Trot-alone, speak out and tell us all about it. Thy lean wolf's legs have
run to some purpose. Open thy lean wolf's mouth and speak for once, lest I
ease thy legs for the rest of thy life by a cut across the hams. Find thy
lost tongue, I say!"

"Walls have ears, as well as the wild-wood," said Martin.

"We are safe here," said the Prior; "so speak, and tell us the whole
truth."

"Well, when the Earl read the letter, he turned red, and pale again, and
then naught but, 'Men, follow me to the King at Westminster.' So we went,
all with our weapons, twenty or more, along the Strand, and up into the