I could not remain at the hall myself, for, on such a night, it seemed necessary to be with my own people, and to be ready to seize any opportunity of saving the effusion of blood, or of giving protection to any who might seek refuge under the shelter of our roof, where murder would be sacrilege, a consideration of some importance where Christians, shame to say, were the murderers.

But before I went my brother and I sent to Alfgar that we might speak to him, and prevail upon him to stay with us the night.

“Alfgar,” said Elfwyn, “the night is very stormy and blustering, and we wish you to remain with us, and share our hospitality till the morn.  Your father will not miss you?”

“I do not think he will; for after one of these debauches he generally sleeps far into the next day.  But the domestic serfs may remark my absence.”

“There is another reason, my boy, why we wish you to stay.  Wild men who hate your father’s race are abroad, and did you fall into their hands while returning home it might fare hard with you.”

“I can imagine that.  I marked the looks they cast upon me in God’s house, even there, this day.  They cannot forgive me my Danish blood, although my mother was one of themselves, and a Christian.”

“They have suffered much, my lad; and suffering, as is often the case, has blunted their feelings.  But you will stay with us, will you not?”

“I will stay; many thanks for your kindness.”

After this I had nothing further to detain me at the castle, so I left for the priory.

It was a black dark night.  The violence of the wind almost lifted me from my feet; not a star could be seen but occasionally a sharp hailstorm pelted down.  Glad was I, although the distance was not great, to see the lights of the priory, and to dry my chilled limbs and wet garments before the fire in the common room while I told my brethren the tidings of the night, and the suspicions which we entertained.

When I had finished there was a dead pause, during which the howling blast without, as it dashed the hail against the casement, seemed a fitting accompaniment to our sombre thoughts.

The compline bell rang.

This office is always full of heavenly comfort, but there seemed a special meaning tonight in one verse—­“A thousand shall fall beside thee, and ten thousand at thy right hand, but it shall not come nigh thee.”

Yet the thousands were heavy on our hearts, and I meditated some means of carrying tidings of their danger to our pagan neighbours; but I knew nothing of the details of the plot, only that there was a plot, and I knew that if I sent a brother, the Danes, in their hatred to monks, would probably set their huge dogs at him before he could speak, and perhaps worry him to death.  Neither could any other messenger approach their dwellings safely at night.