noon
Somewhere within those sombre woods lay the dead marquis . With a sigh he rose to his knees , shivered in the sunshine , passed one hand over his forehead , and finally stood up . Hunger had made him faint ; his head grew dizzy . `` It must be noon , at least , '' he muttered , and started down the hill and across the fields towards the woods of Morteyn . As he walked he pulled the bearded wheat from ripening stems and chewed it to dull his hunger . The raw place on his neck , where the rope had chafed , stung when the perspiration started . He moved quickly but warily , keeping a sharp lookout on every side .