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Ever and anon we looked forth from doors and windows into the black darkness without; but although it was near midnight, neither sight nor sound told of aught amiss, and we were beginning to yield to fatigue, when I ascended the tower in company with Father Adhelm, to survey the scene for the last time.
Father Adhelm is still there ministering to the flock. Saturday, December 12th, 1006. The week has passed monotonously enough. The Etheling is now able to leave his room, but the stormy weather, with its torrents of rain, makes it impossible for him to leave the house. The river has overflowed its banks; all the country around is like a lake.
It was so windy that we could hardly stand upon the leaded roof, and although we gazed around, nought met our eyes until we were on the point of returning. "Listen!" said Father Adhelm, the subprior. It was unnecessary. Borne upon the wind, a loud noise, as of men who shout for mastery, met our ears, followed or intermingled with cries for help or mercy so we fancied at least.
We have not a manor left which is not in loyal Norman hands; we have not an English monk left who has not been scourged and starved into holy obedience; not an English saint for whom any man cares a jot, since Guerin de Lire preached down St. Adhelm, the admirable primate disposed of St. Alphege's martyrdom, and some other wise man I am ashamed to say that I forget who proved that St.
This we had waited for, and we held council, and decided that, having no home, the brethren should depart with the sacred vessels and treasure to the mother house at Abingdon, while I remained, as also Father Adhelm, to minister to our afflicted flock in the woods as best we might.
The abbot and brethren from Abingdon are gone back, and we poor happy brethren have entered again upon our regular duties. Ah me! what a gap time has made in our ranks. Of the twenty brethren who were driven out by the Danes eleven years ago, only twelve yet live, and eight brethren from Abingdon supply the place of the others. God be praised that Father Adhelm yet lives!
The trees were all rocking wildly in the wind, and here and there a severed branch fell down before us. Occasionally a gust of rain and hail descended. The path was wet and slippery. Poor Father Adhelm groaned aloud. "Verily our path is hedged about with thorns. It is hard to kick against the pricks," said the chamberlain. "It is God's work," said I, "and we may not falter."
In the evening there was a harvest home; it was of course a strange one without the men, who were afar off, fighting for their country, but we tried to be thankful for mercies vouchsafed, and I and Father Adhelm were there to bless the food. We found a large party assembled as many, indeed, as the hall would contain.
Then, leaving Father Adhelm in charge of the woodland settlement, I determined to visit my brethren here, where I have been received with all Christian love and hospitality by the abbot and his brethren. Three days my journey lasted. I travelled with only two attendants, serfs of our house; a poor prior burnt out from house and home. Nov. 21st, 1006.
Henry sent as governor William Fitz Adhelm, a selfish voluptuary, under whose command all went ill; and, indeed, the English rule never prospered except when in the hands of good old Hugo de Lacy, under whom "the priest kept his church, the soldier his garrison, and the ploughman followed his plough."
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