“Let me pass!” roared Hereward. “There is rich booty in the room above, and you may have it as these ladies’ ransom. Them you do not touch. Back, I say, let me pass!” And he rushed forward. Winter and the housecarles formed round him and the women, and hurried down the hall, while the savages hurried up the ladder, to quarrel over their spoil. They were out in the court-yard, and safe for the moment. But whither should he take her? “To Earl Osbiorn,” said one of the Siwards. But how to find him? “There is Bishop Christiern!” And the Bishop was caught and stopped. “This is an evil day’s work, Sir Hereward.” “Then help to mend it by taking care of these ladies, like a man of God.” And he explained the case. “You may come safely with me, my poor lambs,” said the Bishop. “I am glad to find something to do fit for a churchman. To me, my housecarles.” But they were all off plundering. “We will stand by you and the ladies, and see you safe down to the ships,” said Winter, and so they went off. Hereward would gladly have gone with them, as Alftruda piteously entreated him. But he heard his name called on every side in angry tones. “Who wants Hereward?” “Earl Osbiorn,--here he is.” “Those scoundrel monks have hidden all the altar furniture. If you wish to save them from being tortured to death, you had best find it.” Hereward ran with him into the Cathedral. It was a hideous sight; torn books and vestments; broken tabernacle work; foul savages swarming in and out of every dark aisle and cloister, like wolves in search of prey; five or six ruffians aloft upon the rood screen; one tearing the golden crown from the head of the crucifix, another the golden footstool from its feet. [Footnote: The crucifix was probably of the Greek pattern, in which the figure stood upon a flat slab, projecting from the cross.] As Hereward came up, crucifix and man fell together, crashing upon the pavement, amid shouts of brutal laughter. He hurried past them, shuddering, into the choir. The altar was bare, the golden pallium which covered it, gone. “It may be in the crypt below. I suppose the monks keep their relics there,” said Osbiorn. “No! Not there. Do not touch the relics! Would you have the curse of all the saints? Stay! I know an old hiding-place. It may be there. Up into the steeple with me.” And in a chamber in the steeple they found the golden pall, and treasures countless and wonderful. “We had better keep the knowledge of this to ourselves awhile,” said Earl Osbiorn, looking with greedy eyes on a heap of wealth such as he had never beheld before. “Not we! Hereward is a man of his word, and we will share and share alike.” And he turned and went down the narrow winding stair. Earl Osbiorn gave one look at his turned back; an evil spirit of covetousness came over him; and he smote Hereward full and strong upon the hind-head. The sword turned upon the magic helm, and the sparks flashed out bright and wide.