At this point I observed a sarcastic smile upon many faces, notably on those of the black sheep aforesaid, to whom the sheriff had spoken, and I concluded that they were very likely to be the ministers of darkness themselves.  So I spoke on the Christian duties of love and forgiveness, and exhorted all present to take joyfully the chastisement of the Lord, even like holy Job; and that it would all tend to their eternal good, through Him who, when He was reviled, reviled not again.  And so with this exhortation to patience I closed my homily.  I fear I spoke to many in vain.

I am sure they are bent on immediate mischief, and that this notice of the sheriff has much to do with it.  He wants to keep good people at home to have all the field to himself.  I see him—­the black bellwether.

After mass I mingled with the dispersing congregation.  The weather was very gloomy—­the faces of the congregation yet more so.  All seemed to apprehend coming evil.  Instead of returning cheerfully home they stood together in groups, talking in low tones, as if they feared to speak their thoughts aloud.

Most of them evidently were men of peace, but not all, as I have already hinted; and, as I drew near a group standing behind the great yew tree, I heard one of these latter discoursing to his fellows.

“Heard you the prior’s sermon?” said Siric, for that was the fellow, Siric of the Wold; “a fine homily he gave us on St. Brice—­that man of peace.”

“It was easy for him to be a man of peace,” returned another; “he hadn’t got Danes for his neighbours.”

“Holy Job himself would have turned cutthroat if he had.”

“Then they have been insulting, robbing, and murdering all over the country.”

Just then I interrupted them, for I could no longer hear the blasphemy.

“How now, Siric,” said I; “hast thou come to Aescendune to revile the saints?”

“Nay, Father,” said he, with a mocking smile; “I was only rejoicing that they were not exposed to such trials as we.  Job’s Chaldeans were gentlefolk in comparison with our Danes.”

“Thou blasphemest; and what didst thou say of the blessed St. Brice?”

“Only that I wished he were living now to tame the cutthroats who live in our midst, and who murder and rob daily, just in mere sport, or to keep their hands in.”

“What new outrages have occurred?” I asked.

“A party of the heathen carried off the cattle from my farm down the water early this morning, and slew the herdsman.”

“Dost thou know who the fellows were?”

“All too well; they were Anlaf’s men.”

I hardly knew what to answer, the outrage was so recent, and the excitement of the speaker so pardonable, as I could but feel.

Well, at this moment my brother Elfwyn came out of the church, where he had lingered to pray, as he generally does, at his brother’s tomb, and, noticing us, came and joined the group.  He seemed much concerned when he heard the details.