“He will not detain us by force?”

“I would not trust to that; but we must meet guile by guile.  I have pretended to be content on your behalf and he is just going to leave the hall, with the greater part of his followers, to collect provisions and cattle.  I have told him that the Grange farm is well stocked; he has caught the bait, and is going to superintend the work of spoliation in person:  far better, in the present need, that he should rob the estate than that a hair of your head or of those of your children should perish.”

“But why do you suspect him of evil?”

“I cannot tell you now.  I have overheard dark, dark speeches.  So soon as he has gone, Alfred and I must summon all your own people who are in the hall.  We will then bring the body forth, and follow it ourselves; as we shall outnumber those left behind I do not imagine they will dare, in his absence, to interfere with our progress.”

“I will go at once,” said Alfred, “and summon the household.”

“No; you would be observed.  I am older and perhaps a little more discreet.  Stay with your mother till all is ready.”

Alfred reluctantly obeyed, and Father Cuthbert went forth.  So great was their anxiety that it almost banished the power of prayer, save such mental shafts as could be sent heavenward in each interval of thought.

At last Alfred, who was at the window, saw Redwald and his followers—­ nearly a hundred in number—­leave the castle and ride across towards the forest in the direction of the farm in question.  Another moment and Father Cuthbert entered.

“Are you ready?  If so, follow me.”

He took them by a private passage into the chapel, where four men already stood by the bier, ready to head the procession, and thirty or forty others were gathered in the chapel or about the door—­their own vassals, good and true.  They all were armed.

Father Cuthbert ascended the wooden tower above the chapel, which served as a bell cot.  He looked from its windows; the party of Redwald had disappeared behind the trees.

He came down and gave the signal.  The sad procession started; they descended the steps to the courtyard.  Redwald had left some forty or fifty men behind—­men who had grown old in arms, and who, if they had pleased, might perhaps have stopped the exit, but they were not sufficiently in the confidence of their leader to take the initiative; and the only man who was in his confidence, and whom he had charged to see that no one departed, was fortunately at that moment in another part of the building.  The sentinel at the drawbridge was one of Redwald’s troop.  He menaced opposition, and refused to let the drawbridge be peaceably lowered.

“Art thou a Christian?” said Father Cuthbert, coming forward in his priestly attire, “and dost thou presume to interfere with a servant of the Lord and to delay a funeral?”

“I must obey my orders.”