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Updated: July 9, 2025
He was rapidly acquiring ease and dexterity in all the sports of the tilt yard; the quintain had now no terrors for him, and he was quite at home on horseback already. Naturally he was rising fast in favour with his fellows, the only lad who seemed to stand aloof from him being Drogo de Harengod.
We need hardly say that, in the course of the day after the ill-fated Roger had departed for Lewes, to bury his sorrows and his sins within the hallowed walls of the Priory of Saint Pancras, the Lady Sybil made a full revelation of all the circumstances of his visit to her husband, Sir Nicholas Harengod.
Hard by the river, on the eastern side of the town, and beneath the high cliffs which rise almost precipitously to the isolated group of downs, there was a terrible charge, a hand-to-hand melee. Drogo of Walderne and Harengod, his sword red with blood, his lance couched, was confronted here by a knight in sable armour, his sole cognisance the White Cross. They rode at each other.
And even here he had a rival. It was Drogo. The reader may ask, where was Drogo that night? At Harengod, his mother's demesne, where he was to remain until Hubert had set sail, after which he might from time to time visit Sir Nicholas, his father's brother, a relationship which that good knight could never forget, unworthy though Drogo was of his love.
Besides, it is too late! "Martin!" A rush of blood came to his lips, and Drogo of Harengod fell back a corpse on the blood-stained grass. Hubert gazed upon him a moment, then loosed the armour to give him air, but it was all over. "God rest his soul. Our enmity is over, but what did he mean about the key?" He felt in the gypsire of the dead enemy. There was a key, unsightly, rusty, and heavy.
Sir Nicholas was at last won over to believe that the youth was not so bad after all, the more so as Drogo disavowed all further designs or claims upon the inheritance of Walderne, now that the proper heir was so happily discovered. Harengod would content him, and when the clouds had blown over, he trusted that there would always be peace between Harengod and Walderne.
See them all trooping in retainers, fighting men, serving men, all taking their places at the boards placed at right angles to the high table, where the seats of Sir Nicholas de Harengod and his lady are to be seen. He enters: a bluff stern warrior, in his undress, that is, without his panoply of armour and arms, in the long flowing robe affected by his Norman kindred at the festal board.
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