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Updated: June 15, 2025
Arriving at his monastery of Oundle, in Northamptonshire, he was seized with illness, and died there on October 12 in the seventy-sixth year of his age. The body was placed on a car and carried in solemn procession to Ripon, where it was buried on the south side of the high altar in his own minster.
It is related how Ethelwold was directed by God, in a dream, to go to the monastery of S. Peter, among the Mid-English; how he halted first at Oundle, supposing that to be the monastery intended; but being warned in a dream to continue his eastward course, at length discovered the ashes of the desolated Medeshamstede.
"He should, then, not have sent us to that rascally one at Oundle," growled Humphrey. "Speak not o'er much with the lady," cautioned old Bartlemy, riding up. "It is not seemly. Let her stay by me, her nurse. So hath the friend to my counsel instructed me." At once Hugo fell back, reining his horse alongside the mule and a half pace in advance; whereat old Bartlemy smiled in approbation.
In consequence of strong remonstrances made by the good people of Oundle about the insecurity of their property, and even their lives, the thirteen hundred warriors were disbanded soon afterwards, and never called together again.
"Shall we not rather go to the priory?" asked Hugo. "Nay, verily," answered Humphrey. "I go to no priory to-night. I will go to an inn, and I will have there a mighty supper, and a good bed, and no priestly duties to perform. I know not how to perform them if I would. And I proclaim to no man that we be counterfeits. And moreover, the priests here may be even as the parish priest of Oundle.
"Cannot I go by train to Oundle?" she asked. "Nothing on earth so jolly if your pastors and masters and all that will let you." "I haven't got any pastors and masters." "The Duchess!" suggested Lord Rufford. "I thought all that kind of nonsense was over," said Arabella. "I believe a great deal is over.
Four men from the village carried her up here, and they've placed her in her own room." "The police know about it, of course?" "Yes, we told old Jarvis, the constable. He's sent a telegram to Oundle, I think." "And what doctor has seen her?" "Doctor Govitt. He's here now." "Ah! I must see him. He has examined the body, I suppose?" "I expect so, sir. He's been a long time in the room."
Over the dinner-table that evening, however, old Colonel Cooper, who had driven over from Polebrook, near Oundle, related to the guests a strange story that he had heard earlier in the day. "A mysterious affair has happened over at Buckworth, near the Great North Road, they say," he exclaimed, adjusting his monocle and addressing his hostess and Bindo, who sat on her right.
Brennoralt, or the Discontented Colonel; a Tragedy, presented at a private House in Black-Fryars by his Majesty's Servants. Sad-one, a Tragedy. This Piece was never finished. Goblings, a Tragi-Comedy, presented at a private House in Black-Fryars, by his Majesty's Servants. This gentleman was born at Oundle in Northamptonshire, and received his education in Queen's-College, Cambridge.
He hath such a care to please thine uncle and my lord that he will look well to thy dog." By nightfall the two were safely lodged at Oundle. "Ye be safe," said the priest of the parish when he had received them. "Here will no man seek for ye this night, and, on the morrow, ye shall speed away. I may not suffer ye to tarry longer."
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