So, walking quickly, we came to the court entrance, and even as we stood under its archway the building nearest the well fell with a crash and rumble, covering the well mouth with a pile of blazing timber.  The smoke and flame seemed to wrap us round, while the burning timber flew, and the Danes from the great courtyard yelled with evil delight; but before that cloud had cleared away we three were outside the monastery gate, and were safe.

“Just in time,” I said.

But “Deo gratias” said the monks in a breath.

“Now run,” said I, and into the nearest spur of woodland we went, and stayed not till we were beyond reach of the yells of the destroyers, who, as it seemed, had not even seen us.

When we were sure that we were not pursued, the prior took my arm and pressed it.

“Thanks to you, my son, our people are safe, and we have come out of yon furnace unscathed.  May you find help in time of need as near and ready.  Now when I read the story of the Three Children, I think I shall know all that they suffered, for we have been in like case.”

And I could make no answer, for it seemed to me that I had forgotten that I was a Christian of late.  And that was true.

Now the prior bade the sacristan hasten to Chichester and tell all this to the sheriff, and he left us, while we went on alone.  Presently I asked who made the chamber in the well, for the silence weighed on me, and my thoughts were not so lightsome.

“Doubtless by Wilfrith’s men,” he said, “and for the same turn it has served us.  For in his days there were many heathen round him, and flight or hiding might be the last resort at any time.”

Then I wondered, saying that I deemed that surely it was a greater thing to be a martyr and to die, than to save life.

“Not always so,” he answered, and then he told me of the ways of holy men of old time.  “We may by no means save life by denying our faith, but we are bidden to flee into another place when persecuted.  We may not choose the place of our death, nor yet the time.”

So he showed me at last what it was to be truly a martyr, fearing not, nor yet seeking death.

“Of a truth,” he ended, “the Lord may need my death by the hand of the heathen at some time, and when the time comes I shall know it, and will die gladly.  But while He gives me the power to save life blamelessly, I know that He needs me on earth yet, though I am of little worth.”

So we were silent after that, ever going on through the woods.  At last he laughed a little, and looked sidewise at me.

“We two are alone,” he said, “therefore I do not mind saying that I have been fairly afraid—­how felt you?”

“I would I might never be so frightened again,” I answered, for truly I had made myself so at one with this brave man that I had forgotten that there was little fear for myself, as I have said, unless that it had been Rorik’s crew who had found us, for only a few of them knew me.