The night had somewhat changed its character while all these things were going on; clouds obscured the moon, and light flakes of snow commenced to fall.  The wind began to moan, as if a storm were at hand.

Alfgar visited the outposts while Edmund assigned their several stations to the men, who were now armed in readiness for the defence.  When the former reached the post on the river’s bank lower down, he saw that the sentinel had thrown himself ear to the earth, and was listening intently; he imitated his example.

A deep dull sound from the distance was heard, and Alfgar recognised the tread of an approaching host.

“Let us withdraw,” he said.

They fell back quietly; Alfgar, passing rapidly round, warned all the other sentinels, and when all had entered, the gates were closed; all was done in profound silence.

Then Edmund caused the men to fit their arrows to the string, and to lie upon the inward slope of the earthworks, so as to be invisible; he placed all the rest of the men at the windows and loopholes of the building.  Similarly prepared, Edmund, with Alfgar and young Hermann by his side, waited at the window commanding the gateway, when the Lady Bertha came up to them.

“Has not Father Cuthbert returned?”

“Returned?”

“Yes, he went to the church to bring in the sacred vessels and vestments.”

Alfgar rose instantly.

“I will go and seek him,” he cried.

“Then pass out by the postern gate, on the angle nearest the church; I fear the danger is great, but he must be told that the foe is near, or he may fall into their hands.”

Alfgar left the hall and passed to an angle of the defences where a little gate led out towards the church; the bridge had been removed, and he had absolutely to descend into the ditch amongst the deep snow.

Emerging, he crossed the burial yard, and found the good father returning heavily laden with the precious vessels and other objects he had been able to save.

“Father,” he said; “the enemy is near.”

“Indeed! so soon?”

“We must enter by the postern gate.”

“I could hardly cross the snow burdened as I am; is it unsafe to try the other gate?  I hear no sound, see no symptom of danger.”

They paused; all was so quiet that Alfgar yielded, and they passed round the mansion.  The drawbridge was up, and no danger seemed near; the trees were in deep shadow, for the clouds, obscuring the moon, made the night very dark.

Alfgar gave the signal, and the drawbridge was lowered; but they had scarcely set foot upon it when dark figures rushed from the shadows behind them.  The bridge, which they both had passed, was actually rising, when the foremost Dane leapt upon it, but was rewarded by a blow from the battle-axe of Alfgar, which sent him tumbling into the snow; two or three others leapt forward and clung to the edge of the bridge, but fell into the ditch like the first; the two fugitives entered, and the gate was closed.