The accustomed features of an English feast, as distinct from a
Norman banquet, have been dwelt upon too often in these Chronicles
to need recapitulation here, and we shall only beg our readers to
suppose the eating over, the wine and mead handed round, and the
business of the evening begun.
The hall was crowded; all the ancient vassals of the house of
Aescendune, who yet survived, were present, and many new faces. By
the side of Wilfred sat a distinguished guest, an East Anglian, to
whom all present paid much attention.
The occasion was one of much gravity; only that evening messengers
had arrived, bringing the serious announcement that William the
mighty Conqueror, with a force said to be numerous as the leaves of
the trees, was at hand, and the gathering had been assembled to
discuss the measures expedient in the common danger.
There was deep silence; the summer twilight alone illumined the
grave faces of the English guests and vassals of Aescendune, as
Wilfred arose to address them.
"Englishmen and brethren," he began, "we have not invited you all
to share our evening meal on an occasion of idle ceremony--many of
you have heard the news I have to tell, and more will anticipate
them. The usurper, the bloodstained oppressor of our race is at
hand; he rests this night at Warwick, with a force far exceeding
any that we can gather to meet him; their lances might uphold the
skies, their arrows darken the heavens.
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