We knew well what they were doing--surrounding the priory to prevent any chance of escape, supposing, of course, that their victims would be within. This accomplished, they knocked loudly at the doors, and receiving no answer, raised their fierce battle cry, and looked, happily in vain, for the pallid faces they expected to see at windows or loopholes. Then they proceeded to break the doors down with their battle-axes. A similar din, beginning a moment before, told us that the hall and the priory were simultaneously attacked. We had heard enough. We let the boat drop down the stream till we reached a small island, where we waited to see the end, praising the Lord who had not delivered us over for a prey unto their teeth. While we waited in suspense, we saw a fierce light flash forth from the hall, and perceived that, having plundered it of all that was portable, they had fired it in many places at once; and while we looked, we saw our own once happy home share the same fate, and emulate the hall in sending forth its volume of ruddy flame towards the skies. 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. Alas for our poor priory! the foundation of Offa and Ella, once the light of the neighbourhood! but now our candlestick is removed out of its place. Our minds being made up as to the course to be pursued, we rowed quietly down the stream, fearing pursuit. Down the stream about two hours' journey an old Roman road, leading southward, crossed the river, where a bridge had once existed, long since swept away by time, but there was a tolerable ford quite safe, save in winter floods. Hard by stood a hostelry, and thither we journeyed in our heavily-laden bark. The light of the conflagration grew dimmer as we rowed down the stream, but it still lighted up the heavens with an angry glare. It was yet deep night when we drew near the inn, and we lay awhile on our oars, to listen for signs of pursuit; but there was nought to disturb the dead silence of the night, so we proceeded. All the household were buried in sleep when we knocked at the doors--a proof that they had not observed the redness in the skies, or little sleep, I trow, would they have taken. We were so exhausted with the fatigues and excitement of the enemy, that we hailed this lonely habitation as a little Zoar. It showed how safe people were feeling in Mercia, that we could not wake the good people for a long time, and we were getting impatient, for they seemed like the seven holy sleepers of Ephesus, awaiting the cessation of persecution. I wish we could all sleep like those Ephesians, and awake in better days.