Under these circumstances the lady Edith became very anxious that either the departure of her unwelcome guests should be hastened, or that the loved remains should be removed at once to the priory church, where she could bemoan her grief in quiet solitude, and be alone with her beloved and God. There seemed no rest or peace possible in the hall, and Redwald was apportioning all the accommodation to his followers as they came, preserving only the private apartments of the lady Edith from intrusion. She was still expecting the arrival of Elfric, for Redwald had not communicated the news he had received, and she did not even know that King Edwy had been defeated; so absorbed was she in her grief, that she did not note the thousand little circumstances which might have told her as much. But before the hour of terce, Alfred came into the room where she was seated with her daughter, and she saw by his troubled countenance that he had something to communicate which pained him to tell. “Elfric!” she said—“he is well?” “He has not come yet, my mother; and I grieve to say that we were deceived yesterday—deceived about the battle.” “How so?” “The king was defeated; he has fled southward, and there has been a great slaughter.” “But Elfric?” “No one can tell me anything about him,” said Alfred, wringing his hands. “Mother, you must leave this place.” “Leave our home—and now?” “They talk of defending it against the forces of the Etheling Edgar, who has been declared king; and we should all be in great danger.” “But will they stay here against our will?” “Yes; for they say their lives depend upon it, that the Mercians scour all the country round about, that all the roads are now occupied and guarded, so that they can only hope to defend this place until they can make terms with the King of Mercia, as they call Edgar, who is likely to be acknowledged by all north of the Thames. The curse of the Church is, they say, upon Edwy.” “Father Cuthbert is still here, is he not?—what does he advise? where shall we go?” “He says we can have the old house in which he, and the mass-thanes xxix before him, lived while as yet the priory was incomplete or unbuilt. It is very comfortable, and close to the church.” “But to take him so soon from his home!” “They will place him in God’s house, before the altar; there could not be a better place where they or we could wish his dear remains to await the last rites upon earth.” At that moment Father Cuthbert entered the room unannounced. “Pardon me, my revered lady,” he began; “but I grieve to say that your safety demands instant action, and must excuse my intrusion; your life and liberty are no longer safe here.” “Life and liberty?”