When, at the end of the ninth century, the attacks of Rollo and his Normans drove the monks of St. Martin of Tours to seek safety for themselves and the priceless relics of their saint at Auxerre, the body of St. Martin was deposited in the church of St. Germain near the tomb of the latter. The miracles wrought by the newcomer speedily caused a large influx of oblations which the strangers took to themselves. The monks of St. Germain claimed an equal share on the ground that the miracles were wrought by the combined merits of both saints. The Touraingeois resisted the demand, and finally offered to decide the question by taking a leper and placing him for a night between the rival reliquaries. If he should in the morning be entirely cured, they agreed to admit that both saints were concerned in the miracles, and that the receipts should be shared; but if only one side of him was restored to health then the saint on whose side he was cured should have the credit and his monks the money. This was agreed to; the leper was placed between the tombs, and both parties spent the night in prayer. In the morning he was found with the half of him towards St. Martin sound and well, while the side towards St. Germain had not been in the least benefited. To remove any lingering doubts, he was then turned around, and the other side was cured. The result was beyond further question, and the monks of St. Martin were permitted to enjoy in peace thenceforth the offerings of the faithful.[1201] It occasionally happened that the direct interference of Heaven, without the use of formulas, was volunteered to stay the blundering hand of human justice. In 1219, near Cologne, a man was condemned for theft and promptly hanged, but when the spectators supposed him comfortably dead, he suddenly exclaimed, “Your labor is vain; you cannot strangle me, for my lord bishop St. Nicholas is aiding me. I see him.” Taking this for a convincing proof of his innocence, the crowd at once cut him down, and he hastened to the church of Bruweiler to give thanks for his miraculous escape.[1202] It is curious to observe, however, that the pious contemporary narrator of this instance of the power of St. Nicholas is careful to let us understand that the man may have been guilty after all. St. Olaf of Norway once interfered in the same way to support, during nine hours of suspension, a man unjustly hanged on a false accusation of theft.[1203]