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Updated: June 6, 2025
Now let there be peace, and let men turn their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks, and hasten the glorious day when the kingdoms of this world shall become the kingdoms of God and His Christ." "We will. God bless Sir Hubert of Walderne." "God bless brother Martin." Drogo was forgotten, as though he had never lived, forgiven and forgotten.
Then the royal standard was displayed on the watchtower, over the banner of Walderne, and the common soldiers, in their thousands, pitched their tents and kindled their fires on the open green without, while those of gentler degree entered the castle, which was not large enough to accommodate the rank and file. The banquet that night was a goodly sight.
But I see we must submit, as thou hast often said, to God's will; and if the past may be forgiven, my merrie men will be well content to make peace, and to turn their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; especially now Drogo has met his just doom, as they tell me, and thy friend is about to rule at Walderne. Thou must be the mediator between them and him.
For I am not only the last represent alive of the old English house of Michelham, but also a son of the house of Walderne; Mabel, my mother, being the sister, as many know, of the Lady Sybil. Ah, well. I seek a more continuing city than either Walderne or Michelham, and I want no earthly dignities.
"Art thou alive, or a ghost?" says a conscience-stricken voice. "Nay, I am Hubert of Walderne, the cousin thou hast hated and injured. But our quarrel is settled now; thou art a dying man." "Nay, not dying. I must live to repent. "Oh, the key! the key! Throw this key into the moat! "Nay, he will haunt me. Tell me, am I really dying? Nay, if it cost me my soul, I will not baulk my vengeance.
The men he had with him on the spot were certain lewd fellows of the baser sort, distinguished even in Walderne Castle for their wickedness; yet even they had their superstitions, and imagined it would bring bad luck to arrest the ecclesiastic, travelling in the garb of his order. But Drogo's will was law, and they obeyed.
The burghers of Hailsham declared for the earl, as did most burghers throughout the land; and Lewes, Pevensey, and Walderne threatened to unite, harry their lands, and burn their town. The monks of Battle preached for the king, as did those of Wilmington and Michelham.
He found him on the point of being admitted to the novitiate, and then started post haste across the country northward for Kenilworth where he arrived in due course, and was soon closeted with the mighty earl, to whom he revealed the whole story of the resurrection of Sir Roger of Walderne. It was indeed a resurrection.
The remaining child, Sybil, alone gladdened her old father's heart and closed his eyes, weary of the world, in peace; after which she married Sir Nicholas de Harengod, and became Lady of Icklesham, by the sea, and Walderne up in the Weald.
There be wolves, yea, boars, and for lesser beasts of prey wildcats, badgers, and polecats; while the deer are as plentiful as sheep." "And where is that castle?" said Hubert. "At Walderne; my uncle is Nicholas de Harengod, and some day the castle will be mine." Martin looked up with strange interest. "What! Walderne Castle yours!" "Yes, have you heard of it?" "And seen it." "Seen it?"
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