there were need."

"There is great need. The young thane, Wilfred, is in danger--there
is some plot against his life. What it is I know not, but our poor
house has been watched ever since he has been here. Come to the
window and look; I have blown out the light; now look--dost thou
not see a man under the shade of the beech, near the entrance
gate?"

"Verily I do, father."

"And now come with me (leading him along a passage); look through
this window."

"Yes, there is another. Why do they watch?"

"That the young Wilfred may not escape; they think we shall send
him off again, as they know I did before."

"How do they know, father?"

"They have read my letter to the bishop."

"Then why have they sent him here? I am quite bewildered."

"That he may be sent again, entrapped, or slain, and failing that,
I know not what they will do. But we will outwit them; thou shalt
take him this very night to his poor thralls who dwell in the
swamp. They will rejoice to see him, and will live or die for him,
as seemeth best."

"But since we are watched, how shall we escape?"

"By the river. It is very dark: thou must unmoor the boat and float
down the stream for a full mile, without noise of oars, then enter
the forest and place the precious boy in safety."

"It shall be done, father."

"And quickly. Here he comes--supper, and then thou must say thy
compline on the river: thou wilt go while all the rest are in the
chapel, and mayst join us in spirit."

The good prior then went to the church, through the great cloister.
The poor lad he loved was praying and weeping.

"Wilfred," said the prior, "dost thou feel better now? Hast thou
poured out thy soul before thy Heavenly Father?"

"Better? yes, a little better now, father."

"Come with me to the refectory."

They left the church.

"Now eat a good meal."

"I cannot eat--it chokes me, father."

"Thou must, my dear son; it is a duty, for thou must travel far
tonight."

"Thank God."

"But it is not to Oxford, my son; thou wouldst not outlive the
night. It is that very journey they want thee to essay."

"Why?"

"That they may slay thee by the way."

"I may have my father's sword, which hangs over his tomb, may I
not?"

"Silly boy, what could one do against a score? Nay, thou must go
and hide for the present in the forest--thou rememberest 'Elfwyn's
Grange'?"

"Where my great grandfather hid from the Danes? Yes, many a time
have I gone there to shoot wi