No sooner had the Lord of Brunn quitted the Camp of Refuge, the day before that on which the Salernitan was slain, than the prior and the chamberlain and their faction called upon the Lord Abbat to summon a chapter of the house, in order to deliberate upon the perilous state of affairs; and notably upon the emptiness of the granaries and wine-cellars of the convent, there being, they said, barely red wine enough in the house to suffice for the service of the mass through another week. Now, good Thurstan, nothing daunted by the malice and plots of the prior (of which he knew but a part), readily convoked the chapter, and gave to every official and every cloister-monk full liberty to speak and vote according to his conscience and the best of his knowledge. But much was the Lord Abbat grieved when he saw that a good many of the monks did not rise and greet him as they ought to do, and turned their faces from him as he entered the chapter-house and gave them his _benedicite_, and _pax vobiscum_. And the abbat was still more grieved and astonished when he heard the prior taking up the foul accusation of Girolamo which had been disposed of the day before, and talking about witchcraft and necromancy, instead of propounding some scheme for the defence of the house and the Camp of Refuge against the Norman invaders. Much did the good Thurstan suffer in patient silence; but when the atrabilious[232] prior went on to repeat his accusations against Elfric, the whilom novice of Spalding, and against himself, the Lord Abbat of Ely, as defensors, fautors, and abettors of the necromancer, and said that it was now known unto the holy Father of the church at Rome, and throughout all Christendom, that last year an attempt had been made to compass the life of _King_ William by witchcraft (the Norman duke having only had a taste of our fen-fever, as aforesaid!), Thurstan could remain silent no longer, and striking the table with his honest Saxon hand until his abbatial ring was broken on his finger (a sad omen of what was coming!), he raised his voice and made the hanging roof of the chapter-house re-echo, and the cowardly hearts of the wicked monks quiver and shake within them.