“Are safe, dearest one.  The Etheling went and let them all loose.”

“Oh! how good of him.  I am so glad.”

“Mother, let Hermann come and sit with us!”

“Nay, he will out to the fight.  He is a boy, and must learn to be a soldier.”

“Oh, but he will get hurt, perhaps killed.”

“Courage, dear child; remember how often I have told you how God helps those who trust in Him.  Say your prayers, your Pater and Credo, and ask God to take care of dear father and Hermann.”

“Mother!” said a voice.  She locked up and saw Hermann, his forehead covered with blood.

“It is nothing, mother,” said the spirited lad, as he wiped the blood away; “at least only the scratch of an arrow while I was on the roof.  Father wishes you to send all the women who are strong enough to help to carry water from the river.  The well is dry, and the men cannot be spared from the embankment.  We expect another attack, and there are great patches of blazing straw flying about in the wind.”

She spoke a few words to the women, and all but two or three, who were too weak or ill, went forth to the work.  One kiss she imprinted eagerly on his brow, and dismissed him back to his perilous task without allowing herself one sigh.

“Now, dear ones,” she said to the little girls, “keep quiet till mother comes back.  I must go.”

“O mother, do not leave us!”

But she could not listen to the earnest pleadings, for she felt that where other women exposed themselves, she too must go, and cheer by her example.

A long line, reaching to the brink of the river, was soon formed, and buckets were being passed from hand to hand.  A loud cry, and a boy in the line fell from an arrow, which retained just sufficient strength to pierce his heart.  Herstan and Father Cuthbert carried the corpse reverently within, the father remembering that but that morning he had fed with the Bread of Life, at the altar of St. Michael, this poor lad, so soon to be called to meet the Judge who had entertained him as a guest at His holy Table that Christmas morn.  Two or three others were soon wounded, but not seriously, and when a supply of water ready for all emergencies had been collected on the roof, the dangerous duty was over.

Pale and collected, the Lady Bertha was returning to her children, when she passed the corpse.  One moment, and the thought struck her that it was Hermann, and the mother’s heart gave a great leap.  Tremblingly she put aside the cloth with which they had veiled it, and was undeceived.  Repressing her feelings, she was again by the side of her little girls, when the fearful cries of the assailants once more rang through the air.

“Stand to your post!  Quit yourselves like men!  Be firm!” shouted the stentorian voice of Edmund.

Onward came the Danes, in three parties, to attack the three sides of the building.  The arrows diminished their numbers, but stayed them not.  They left a struggling dark line upon the ground, but the wounded had to care for themselves.  Edmund rushed to command the defence at the gate, leaving Alfgar to superintend that upon the right hand, and Herstan on the left.  They had but one moment, and they were in the thick of the conflict.