put her arm around her very tenderly, her state
forgotten again, and I knew that she was in good hands.

Now when the horses were stabled, and our men knew where they should
bide in the strangers' lodgings--set apart for the trains of guests to
the nunnery, which were very spacious--Wulfhere and I must needs find
the way to get audience of the bishop. As far as the doors of the abbey
where he abode was easy enough, but there, waiting for alms and broken
meats, were crowds of beggars, sitting and lying about in the sun, with
their eyes ever on the latch to be first when it was lifted for the
daily dole. And again, round the gate were many men of all sorts,
suitors, as we deemed for some favour at the hands of bishop or abbot--
for the Abbot of Glastonbury was nigh as powerful as Ealhstan himself,
in his own town at least.

When we came among these we were told that we must bide our time, for
audience was not given but at stated hours. And one man, grumbling, said
that that was not Ealhstan's way in his own place at Sherborne, for
there the doors were open ever.

But I knew that my business might not wait, and so, after a little of
this talk, went up to the gate and thundered thereon in such sort that
the wicket opened, and the porter's face looked through it angrily
enough, and he would have bidden us begone, for war and travel had
stained us both, so that doubtless we were in no better case, as to
looks, than the crowd that pressed after us--very quietly, indeed--
to hear the parley.

One difference in our looks there was, however, which made the porter
silent--we wore mail and swords, and at that he seemed to stare in
wonder.

Then I held up the ring and said, "Messages from Osric the Sheriff."

Whereupon the wicket closed suddenly, and there was a sound of
unbarring, and the door opened and we were let in, the rest, who must
wait, grumbling loudly at the preference shown to us, while the beggars,
who had roused at the sound of the hinges creaking, went back whining in
their disappointment.

Then one came and bade us follow him, and we were led into the abbey
hall and there waited for a little. There were a few monks about,
passing and repassing, but they paid no attention to us, and we, too,
were silent in that quiet place. Only a great fire crackled at one end
of the hall, else there would have been no noise at all. It was, I
thought, a strangely peaceful place into which to bring news of war and
tumult.