"
"Let the Norman come," said the sage solemnly; "he shall perish in
his pride."
"In what manner shall he die?"
"By the death meet for the sacrilegious destroyer of the priory--by
fire--it is God's will, revealed to me in visions of the night."
"Fire? how?" cried several; then one common idea seemed to strike
them all.
"The reeds. Once entangled in the marshes, we might fire them all
round."
"But how shall we get him to enter the marshes where the dry rushes
are thickest?"
"There is a bed of rushes and weeds half a mile across, around the
heron's pool, and it is now so dry just there, that it would bear
the accursed foe, horses, and armour, could they be enticed to
follow the path which traverses it."
"Who shall entice them and prevail?" said Beorn.
"Will any of our men risk their own lives and volunteer as guides
to the Normans? They are seeking guides everywhere."
There was a dead silence. At length a man arose--Ordgar, son of
Haga.
"I will take my life in my hand to deliver my people from the
tyranny of this Norman wolf."
"God bless thee, my son," said his aged sire; "thou art the light
of mine eyes, but I can risk thee in thy country's cause and the
cause of the House of Aescendune."
"It is a holy cause," said Father Kenelm, who was present: "God's
arm is bared for vengeance--the blood of my martyred brethren cries
aloud from beneath the altar.
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