A dozen of the brethren were to return with Father Cuthbert and Alfred to Aescendune at once, and to bear with them all the necessary powers for the accomplishment of the good thane’s wishes in regard to the monastery of St. Wilfred, while Father Cuthbert was then and there admitted by Dunstan to the order of St. Benedict—­the necessity of the case justifying some departure from the customary formalities.

All being completely ordered and arranged, the chapter broke up, and within an hour the monks were leaving as rapidly as boys leave school when breaking-up day comes, but not quite so joyously.  They strove to attract as little attention as possible, and, in most cases, travelled in the ordinary dress of the country.

Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines who were to accompany him on his return—–­so much more speedy than had been anticipated—­were already prepared to start, when, to their surprise, Alfred could not be found.

Alfred was at that moment in the cell of Dunstan, with whom he had obtained, not without great trouble, another brief interview.

“God bless you, my son,” said Dunstan, “and render unto you according to all you have done for His glory this day, and restore you your brother safe in body and soul!”

But it was not merely for a blessing that Alfred had sought the abbot.

“Father,” he said, “if I have happily been of service to you, I ask but one favour in return; one brother has sought your life, let the other remain with you as a bodyguard.”

“But your father?”

“I am satisfied that I am but speaking as he would have me speak.”

“But you will become an exile.”

“Gladly, if I can but serve you, father.”

“But, my child, I have no means of support for you abroad; as monks we shall find hospitality in every Benedictine house, but you are only a layman.”

“Then, father, I but ask you to allow me to accompany you to the coast.”

“I grant it, my son, for I believe God inspires the wish.  Be it as you desire, but one of your serfs must accompany you; it would not be safe to travel home alone.”

So Father Cuthbert and the Benedictines started back to Aescendune without Alfred, bearing Dunstan’s explanation of the matter to the half-bereaved father whose faith, they feared, would be sorely tried, and leaving Oswy to be his companion.

It was now drawing near nightfall, and the abbey was almost deserted; all the pilgrims had left with the monks, although many of them would willingly have put their trust in the arm of flesh and remained to fight for Dunstan against his temporal foes, even as he—­so they piously believed—­routed their spiritual enemies.  In that vast abbey there were now but six persons—­Dunstan, Guthlac, Alfred, the lay brother Osgood, Oswy, and a guide who knew all the bypaths of the country.