He could not help realising some of the pathos of the situation as he rode on through the rain to Durford.  It was plain that a wave of terror and apprehensiveness was running through the Religious Houses, and that it brought with it inevitable disorder.  Lives that would have been serene and contented under other circumstances were thrown off their balance by the rumours of disturbance, and authority was weakened.  If the Rule was hard of observance in tranquil times, it was infinitely harder when doors of escape presented themselves on all sides.

And yet he was impatient too.  Passive or wavering characters irritated his own strong temperament, and he felt a kind of anger against the Abbot and his feeble appeal.  Surely men who had nothing else to do might manage to keep their own subjects in order, and a weak crying for pity was in itself an argument against their competence.  And meanwhile, if he had known it, he would have been still more incensed, for as he rode on down towards the south west, the Abbot and his monks in the house he had left were prostrate before the high altar in the dark church, each in his stall, praying for mercy.

“O God, the heathens are come into thine inheritance,” they murmured, “they have defiled thy holy temple.”

* * * * *

It was not until the sun was going down in the stormy west that Ralph rode up to Durford abbey.  The rain had ceased an hour before sunset, and the wet roofs shone in the evening light.

There were certain signs of stir as he came up.  One or two idlers were standing outside the gate-house; the door was wide open, and a couple of horses were being led away round the corner.

Inside the court as he rode through he saw further signs of confusion.  Half a dozen packhorses were waiting with hanging heads outside the stable door, and an agitated lay brother was explaining to a canon in his white habit, rochet and cap, that there was no more room.  He threw out his hands with a gesture of despair towards Ralph as he came in.

“Mother of God!” he said, “here is another of them.”

The priest frowned at him, and hurried up to Ralph.

“Yes, father,” said Ralph, “I am another of them.”

The canon explained that the stable was full, that they were exceedingly sorry, but that they were but a poor house; and that he was glad to say there was an outhouse round the corner outside where the beasts could be lodged.

“But as for yourself, sir,” he said, “I know not what to do.  We have every room full.  You are a friend of Dr. Layton’s, sir?”

“I am one of the Visitors,” said Ralph.  “You must make room.”

The priest sucked his lips in.

“I see nothing for it,” he said, “Dr. Layton and you, sir, must share a room.”

Ralph threw a leg over the saddle and slipped to the ground.

“Where is he?” he asked.

“He is with my Lord Abbot, sir,” he said.  “Will you come with me?”