, and came quickly to the porch. The church is very
small and more ancient than I can say, for it is built of flint
bound together with such mortar as the Romans used in their
castles, hard as stone itself, and it stands in the midst of the
Roman camp that guarded the ford, so that maybe it was the first
church in all East Anglia, for we use wood; and, moreover, this
stone church is rounded at the east end, and has a barrier dividing
the body of the building into two, beyond which the as yet
unbaptized must sit, as men say. And so strong and thick are the
walls that I do not know how they can ever fall.

Now through the narrow windows shone lights, and I heard the sound
of chanting. Leof held my horse, and I opened the door gently and
went in.

At once there was a shrinking together of a group of men, mostly
monks, who stood at the upper end of the church where the chancel
begins. They were chanting the third psalm, for help against the
heathen, and it faltered for a moment. But they were mostly monks
of the bishop's own household, and knew me well enough, and they
ended it shortly.

Then there was silence, for they were holding none of the set
services, but rather as it seemed doing the bishop's bidding, and
praying with him in the best way for the ceasing of this new
trouble, as in time of pestilence once I remembered that he made
litanies for us. And Humbert himself knelt before the altar during
that psalm, fully vested, but as in times of fast and penitence.

When he rose, I came up the aisle towards him, and my mail clanged
noisily as I walked in the hush. At the chancel steps I stood, helm
in hand, and did reverence, not daring to speak first.

"What is it?" asked the bishop, when he turned and saw me. "Speak,
Wulfric, my son. Is all well?"

"I have heavy news, father," I answered. "Close on us are the
Danes, and you must fly. Then I will tell you all on the way."

"I will fly no more," he answered, "here I will bide. Is the king
at my house?"

"He is not there, father," I said; and then I urged him to fly at
once, and with me his monks joined, even going on their knees in
their grief. Yet he would not be moved.

"Surely the king will come here," he said, "nor will I go without
him."

"Father," I said, "the Danes have taken the king."

"Then must I bide here, and pray and scheme for his release."

Now I knew not how to tell him all, but at last I said:

"Eadmund the king has escaped from the hand