“Now,” said the elder priest, “thou art like others of people and priests. No friends, no home; thou hast nowhere to go. God help and comfort thee and us in our affliction.” “We would best take her to the abbess Hilda at the priory,” said the second one. “Yea; we will take her there, brother, though thou wottest that it may not be safe for the maiden. Even Christ’s altar is not safe from the defilement of these pagans. Methinks they are fiercer towards priests and monks, and ravage the churches and convents with greater fury than elsewhere, if that be possible where no mercy is shown to any. But eat and drink, child. Thou art weary.” For Egwina suddenly felt spent and faint. A sense of forlornness that she was unable to control was taking possession of her. “I feel no desire for food, holy father,” she said weakly. “Natheless thou must eat, daughter. Keep up thy heart. Be not troubled or concerned for thyself. Thou art in God’s hands. Whatever he sends is for the best. Eat these.” He took from the pouch which he carried under his chasuble some barley cakes, and Egwina ate of them obediently. When she had finished they took up their staffs, and declared themselves ready to take her to the priory. Thus did they journey. It was late in the day when the priests joyously announced to the maiden that there was but little further to go. “Then shalt thou find peace and rest for thy weariness, child,” said they comfortingly to her. But as they drew near to the building, their ears were greeted with cries and screams of terror. “The Northmen!” ejaculated the priests with pale faces. “Stay thou here, daughter, while we see if aught can be done.” They went forward, leaving Egwina in the copse. Time passed. The priests did not return, and finally, unable to endure the suspense longer, the girl crept forward. In an open glade of the forest stood the priory. Egwina’s terror-stricken eyes saw naught but the forms of the slaughtered nuns whose bodies lay everywhere in the courtyard, and even beyond it. In front of the gates were the corpses of her two late companions—the priests. A party of the Northmen were busied in carrying out the treasures of the priory ere setting fire to the building. The girl gazed on the scene with horror. Was there no safety, no retreat from these barbarians anywhere? Her blood congealed in her veins. A numbness of despair crept over her. Forgetting that she might be heard, a gasping cry escaped her lips. Some of the Danes paused in their work to listen. “Heard ye not a sound?” asked one. “’Twas naught,” responded another impassively, as he placed some golden vessels on the ground. “Didst thou think that a nun had escaped? By Odin, no! Careful were we that not one should live to say mass.”