Without a moment’s hesitation Cuthbert rushed through the door, shouting “Sanctuary!” and sank almost fainting on the ground.

The monks, accustomed to wild pursuits and scenes of outrage in those warlike days, hastily closed the door, barring it securely.  In a moment there was a rush of men against it from without.

One of the monks opened a lattice above the door.

“What mean you,” he said, “by this outrage?  Know ye not that this is the Monastery of St. John, and that it is sacrilege to lay a hand of violence even against its postern?  Begone,” he said, “or we’ll lodge a complaint before the king.”

The assailants, nothing daunted, continued to batter at the door; but at this moment the monks, aroused from their beds, hastened to the spot, and seizing bill and sword—­for in those days even monks were obliged at times to depend upon carnal weapons—­they opened the door, and flung themselves upon the assailants with such force that the latter, surprised and discomfited, were forced to make a hasty retreat.

The doors were then again barred, and Cuthbert was carried up to a cell in the building, where the leech of the monastery speedily examined his wound, and pronounced, that although his life was not in danger by it, he was greatly weakened by the loss of blood, that the wound was a serious one, and that it would be some time before the patient would recover.

It was two days before Cuthbert was sufficiently restored to be able to speak.  His first question to the monk was as to his whereabouts, and how long he had been there.  Upon being answered, he entreated that a messenger might be despatched to the camp of the Earl of Evesham, to beg that a litter might be sent for him, and to inquire what had become of Cnut, whom he had last seen stricken down.

The monk replied, “My son, I grieve to tell you that your request cannot be complied with.  The army moved away yesternoon, and is now some five-and-twenty miles distant.  There is nothing for you but patience, and when restored you can follow the army, and rejoin your master before he embarks at Marseilles.  But how is it that a lad so young as you can have incurred the enmity of those who sought your life?  For it is clear from the pertinacity with which they urged their attack that their object was not plunder, of which indeed they would get but little from you, but to take your life.”

Cuthbert recounted the circumstances which had led to the feud of the Count of Brabant against him, for he doubted not that this truculent knight was at the bottom of the attack.