“Reverend Father,” said Cedric, bowing low, “we congratulate ourselves upon our visit to this ancient and honorable abbey; and we have here some gifts and tokens to bestow upon thee as the head of this worthy brotherhood.” De Bellair bowed deeply in acknowledgment of this greeting. When he raised his head again, what was his amaze and horror to find that he that had addressed him so respectfully had sprung upon the dais, pulled from his shoulders the palmer’s cloak, and now rushed upon him as a hound upon his quarry. In an instant the long gray robe was flung o’er the Abbot’s head and arms, and despite his struggles and cries a rope was speedily bound about his middle, pinioning his hands to his sides. Then he was lifted bodily and hurried toward the courtyard door. Some of the monks set up a hideous outcry, and one or two sought to intercept those who carried the bound and struggling Abbot; but where they thought to deal with unarmed pilgrims, they found themselves confronted with two and twenty stout fellows each of whom had drawn from beneath his flowing cloak a short-bladed sword and flourished it in most menacing way. They fell back before us, overawed, and understanding nothing of what had passed. Only one of the monastery people did preserve his wits at this amazing juncture, and this an acolyte youth of sixteen years. Slipping out of the hall and through the rear of the Abbey, he ran, as we afterwards learned to our cost, with might and main to take the news of this mad foray to the castle’s governor. In the outer yard we spent some time in adjusting more firmly our captive’s bonds and in cutting slits through the cloak that bound his head so as to allow him to breathe but nowise to see and scarcely to make himself heard with calls for help. Then hoisting him with difficulty (for he was a gross, fat man) upon a stout charger whereon one of our own men rode behind him, we turned away from the Abbey and rode at such speed as we might on the road by which we came.