It was now that men "said openly that Christ slept, and His saints." The English chronicler seems to imply, and Henry of Huntingdon distinctly asserts, that the wicked, emboldened by impunity, said so in scornful derision; but William of Newburgh assigns the cry to the sufferings of a despairing people. It is probable enough that both were right, that the people and their oppressors had reversed the parts of Elijah and the priests of Baal. For a time there seemed to rise in vain the cry so quaintly Englished in the paraphrase of John Hopkins:— "Why doost withdraw thy hand aback, And hide it in thy lappe? O pluck it out, and be not slack To give thy foes a rappe!" But when night is darkest, dawn is nearest,[682] and the end of the oppressor was at hand. It was told in after days how even Nature herself had shown, by a visible sign, her horror of his impious deeds. While marching to the siege of Burwell on a hot summer's day, he halted at the edge of a wood, and lay down for rest in the shade. And lo! the very grass withered away beneath the touch of his unhallowed form![683] The fortified post which the king's men had now established at Burwell was a standing threat to Fordham, the key of his line of communications. He was therefore compelled to attack it. And there he was destined to die the death of Richard Cœur de Lion. As he reconnoitred the position to select his point of attack, or as, according to others, he was fighting at the head of the troops, he carelessly removed his headpiece and loosened his coat of mail. A humble bowman saw his chance: an arrow whizzed from the fortress, and struck the unguarded head.[684] There is a conflict of testimony as to the date of the event. Henry of Huntingdon places it in August, while M. Paris (_Chron. Maj._, ii. 177) makes him die on the 14th of September, and the Walden Chronicle on the 16th. Possibly he was wounded in August and lingered on into September, but, in any case, Henry's date is the most trustworthy. The monks of Ramsey gloried in the fact that their oppressor had received his fatal wound as he stood on ground which their abbey owned, as a manifest proof that his fate was incurred by the wrong he had done to their patron saint.[685] At Waltham Abbey, with equal pride, it was recorded that he who had refused to atone for the wrong he had done to its holy cross received his wound in the self-same hour in which its aid was invoked against the oppressor of its shrine.[686] But all were agreed that such a death was a direct answer to the prayer of the oppressed, a signal act of Divine vengeance on one who had sinned against God and man.[687]