noon
Mallet de Graville , thy prayer is granted ; to thy choice be consigned the place of burial , to thy care the funeral rites of him whose soul hath passed out of human judgment . '' The feast was over ; William the Conqueror slept on his couch , and round him slumbered his Norman knights , dreaming of baronies to come ; and still the torches moved dismally to and fro the waste of death , and through the hush of night was heard near and far the wail of women . Accompanied by the brothers of Waltham , and attended by link-bearers , Mallet de Graville was yet engaged in the search for the royal dead -- and the search was vain . Deeper and stiller , the autumnal moon rose to its melancholy noon , and lent its ghastly aid to the glare of the redder lights . But , on leaving the pavilion , they had missed Edith ; she had gone from them alone , and was lost in that dreadful wilderness . And Ailred said despondingly : `` Perchance we may already have seen the corpse we search for , and not recognised it ; for the face may be mutilated with wounds . And therefore it is that Saxon wives and mothers haunt our battle-fields , discovering those they search by signs not known without the household . ''