They were the assailants who had been pursuing
the duke all night. Hubert knew them well
as soon as he caught sight of them. Drawing
nigh, they hurriedly asked, "By your faith,
have you seen William pass this way?
Conceal nothing, and beware of lies."

"What William do you mean?"

"The bastard, the haughty duke."

"Certainly; he can't be far off. But why?
What is the matter now?"

"Come with us, and we will tell you.
Meanwhile, do as we do."

"With all my heart. I should like nothing
better than to lower the pride of the insolent
bastard. Wait a minute; I will be your
guide. If we catch him, par ma foi, I am the
first to strike him, if I can, as you will
see."

So saying, he jumped on horseback, and
started with them in the direction opposite to
that taken by William. Leading them more
and more astray, he set them rambling about
the country until, seeing their horses thoroughly
worn out, he declared with an air of great
vexation, that the bastard must doubtless have
followed another path. At which they took
their leave, thanking him for his zeal, and
making the best of their way to Bayeux. It
was noon when Hubert re-entered his castle of
Ryes.

        II. THE PUNISHMENT.

WILLIAM, well aware that he could not,
single-handed, repress so formidable a revolt,
put Falaise and its castle in a state of defence;
and, accompanied by his uncle Mauger,
Archbishop of Rouen, sought Henri the First, King
of France, at the royal residence of Poisy, near
Paris.

"Sire," he said, "I have henceforth
confidence in nothing except God and you. All
my people are in revolt against me. They pay
me no homage, they have taken my land, they
ravage and burn all my domains, and I shall
soon have nothing left. Dear sire, you ought
not to abandon me. My father made me your
man, when he started for the Holy Land; your
man I am in Normandy; surely you should
defend me. My father once restored France
to you. When your mother, Constance, tried
to disinherit you, you came to Normandy with
a feeble escort. He recognised your
seigneuralty, received you with great honour,
supplied your wants, and helped you to have
the whole of France. Now give me, I pray
you and request, recompense of this service.
Come with me to Normandy, and avenge me
of the disloyal traitors who have sworn my
death. If you consent, you will do me much
good, and I shall be your liege-man all my life
long."

Henri was touched by the young duke's
misfortunes. Twelve years ago he had sworn to
act as his guardian and parent; he now kept
his word. He hastily assembled "all the grand
armies of France." At the beginning of
August, 1047, he took up his position on the
little river Laizon, between Argences and
Mézidon in Normandy, at the head of at least
ten thousand men. William diligently
recruited troops in all the districts remaining
faithful to him. With this army he encamped
at Argences, on the river Muance, about a
couple of leagues from the King of France's
army.

On the other hand, the revolted barons had
not been idle. As soon as they heard of Henri's
promise to help the duke, they were aware
that their only hope of safety lay in a bold and
desperate resistance. Leaving their castles
unprotected, they armed every man at their
disposal, young and old, and summoned all the
vavasseurs who owed them service in time of
war. Before long, their united troops,
followed by bands of villains armed with clubs
and iron-tipped sticks (because they had not
the right to fight with swords) passed the river
Orne, thirty thousand strong, and proudly
advanced to meet the invading armies, as far as
the Val-des-Dunes, a league from Argences.
In this strong position, lance in hand, the
insurgents awaited the hour of battle.

To the south-east of Caen, between the two
roads which lead one to Paris the other to
Falaise, there stretches a large triangular plain.
About the middle of this plain, a rising ground
swells into the little hill of Saint-Laurence
(which is eight miles from Caen), attaining its
highest elevation at Secqueville, forming a
horseshoe from the north to the west, and then
gently sinking towards the south. The valley
formed by the sweep of the hills had derived
from its stony and sandy soil, and especially
from its configuration and its sterility around
Saint-Laurence's hill, the characteristic name
of "the Dunes," from the Celtic word "dun,"
an elevation. Seen from the heights of
Saint-Laurence and Secqueville, it bears a
resemblance to the open hull of a very broad-built
ship. In spite of modern attempts to
plant Scotch firs, an old description still
applies to it. "There are no groves or
thickets. Hard is the earth, without marshy
ground."

Such was the position taken up by the barons.
With the hill of Saint-Laurence at their back,
their left flank covered by the marshes of
Chicheboville, their right protected by the
heights of Secqueville, they had certainly a great
advantage over the Franco-Norman army.
Even at an epoch when there were no
projectile weapons to speak of, the situation was
well chosen for a battle—with one great
inconvenience, however; the barons were under
the necessity of winning. No retreat was open
to them. Caen held for the duke; to the south-west
were the rapid waters of the Orne.
But they felt strong in their courage and
superior numbers. At that time strategy
went for nothing; brute force was everything.

On the morning of the 10th of August, 1047,
the French army, making a movement in
advance, passed Airan and occupied Valmeray,