cowering for
shelter. And when the Prior bade us throw open the monastery gates,
out of the sombre gloom of the forest the scared woodlanders came
crowding, tame and panting. No one had ever realised that so many
strange creatures, in fur and pelt, housed in the green ways. Even the
names of many of them we did not know, for we had never set eyes on
them before; but among those that were within our knowledge were coneys
and hares, stoats and weasels, foxes and badgers, many deer with their
does and fawns, and one huge grey creature of savage aspect which we
took to be an old wolf.

The Prior ordered that the gates should be left open for any fugitives
that might seek refuge, and he went among the wild beasts, calming them
with a touch of his hand and blessing them. Then there came a woman,
with a child at her bosom and a little lad clinging to her dress, but
she was so distracted with fright that she was unable to say what had
happened.

When he had given directions for the care of all these strange guests,
the Prior climbed up the mound through the tossing trees, and when he
had reached the summit he saw to his amazement that the sea had risen
in a mighty flood and poured for miles into the forest. The huge oaks
and pines of centuries had gone down in thousands, and over their
fallen trunks and broken branches the white billows were tumbling and
leaping in clouds of spray in the moonlight. Happily the land sloped
away to the north, so that unless the wind changed and blew against us
the Priory seemed to be in no present danger. Overhead the great cross
vibrated in the storm, and the face of the Christ gazed seaward, and
the holy arms were opened wide. The sight of that divine figure filled
the Prior's heart with peace and confidence. "Whether to live or to
die," he murmured, "in Thee, O Lord, have we placed our trust."

Such was the terrible inroad of the sea which broke the western forest
of Amounderness. For many a day the land lay in salt swamp till the
sands were blown over it and buried the fallen timber; and afterwards
the very name of Forest was forgotten, and the people called all that
part the Field-lands.

Now it was in this same year that the grievous pestilence named the
Black Death raged in England; but it was not till the winter had gone
by that it reached Amounderness. Then were seen those terrible days
when ships sailed the seas with crews of dead men, and when on land
there was buryin