But everything tended to increase Alfred’s feverish anxiety about his brother. The relieving force could not arrive for hours; meanwhile he knew not what to do. No tidings were heard: Father Swithin had failed and Elfric might perhaps even now be dead. So Alfred, taking counsel only of his own brave, loving heart, left the priory in the dusk, attended by the faithful Oswy, and walked towards his former home. The night was dark and cloudy, the moon had not yet arisen, and they were close upon the hall ere they saw its form looming though the darkness. Neither spoke, but they paused before the drawbridge and listened. Sounds of uproarious mirth arose from within; Danish war songs, shouting and cheering; the whole body of the invaders were evidently feasting and revelling with that excess, of which in their leisure moments they were so capable. “It is well!” said Alfred; and they walked round the exterior of the moat, marking the brightly lighted hall and the unguarded look of the place; yet not wholly unguarded, for they saw the figure of a man outlined against a bright patch of sky, pacing the leaded roof, evidently on guard. And now they had reached that portion of their circuit which led them opposite the chamber window of the lamented Ella, and Alfred gazed sadly upon it, when both he and Oswy started as they heard cries and moans, and sometimes articulate words, proceeding therefrom. They listened eagerly, and caught the name “Dunstan,” as if uttered in vehement fear, then the cry. “Water! I burn!” and cry after cry, as if from one in delirium. “It is Elfric! it is Elfric!” said Alfred. “It is my young lord’s voice,” said the thrall; “he is in a fever from his wound.” “What can we do?” and Alfred walked impatiently to and fro; at last he stopped. “Oswy! if it costs me my life I will enter the castle!” “It shall cost my life too, then. I will live and die with my lord!” “Come here, Oswy; they do not know the little postern door hidden behind those bushes; the passage leads up to the chapel, and to the gallery leading to my father’s chamber, where Elfric lies dying. I remember that that door was left unlocked, and perhaps I can save him. They are all feasting like hogs; they will not know, and if Ragnar meet me, why, he or I must die;” and he put his hand convulsively upon the sword which was dependent from his girdle. “Lead on, my lord; you will find your thrall ready to live or die with you!” said Oswy. At the extreme angle of the building there was a large quantity of holly bushes which grew out of the soil between the moat and the wall, which itself was clothed with the thickest ivy; the roof above was slanting—an ordinary timber roof covering the chapel —so that no sentinel could be overhead. Standing on the further side of the moat, all this and no more could be observed.