Jehan lay by a clump of hazels, the blood welling from an axe-wound in the neck.His face was ashen with the oncoming of death, but he smiled as he looked up at his lord.
"The Crane pecked me," he said."He had a stout bill, if a black heart."Ivo wept aloud, being pitiful as he was brave.He would have scoured the country for a priest.
"Farewell, old comrade," he sobbed."Give greeting to Odo in Paradise, and keep a place for me by your side.I will nourish your son, as if he had been that one of my own whom Heaven has denied me.Tarry a little, dear heart, and the Priest of Glede will be here to shrive you."Through the thicket there crawled a mighty figure, his yellow hair dabbled in blood, and his breath labouring like wind in a threshing-floor.He lay down by Jehan's side, and with a last effort kissed him on the lips.
"Priest!" cried the dying Aelward."What need is there of priest to help us two English on our way to God?"