At this injury to the poor man, one of the clerks, a native of the Welsh borders, cried out: "Shame on us to endure anything like this!" and drew a bow which he carried (for, as the tumult had increased, some of the clerks had seized on whatever came to hand), and by an arrow discharged from it, himself pierced the body of the cook (whom the clerks satirically called "Nabuzardan," which means chief of the cooks). On the fall of the dead man a cry was raised, hearing which the legate was astounded, and, struck with fear, which can overtake the boldest man, he betook himself to the tower of the church, clad in his canonical hood, and secured the doors behind him. When the darkness of the night had put an end to the tumult, he put off his canonical dress, quickly mounted his best horse, and under the guidance of some persons who knew the most private fords, crossed the river at the nearest part to him, although with much danger, for the purpose of flying under the protection of the King's wings as soon as possible; for the clerks, carried away by rage, continued to seek for the legate in the most secret hiding-places, crying out: "Where is that simoniacal usurer, that plunderer of revenues, and thirster for money, who perverts the King, subverts the kingdom, and enriches foreigners with spoil taken from us?"... Having crossed the river with much trouble (as above mentioned), and with only a few attendants, owing to the difficulty of the passage, the rest remaining concealed in the convent, the legate came to the King breathless, and in a state of alarm, and with sighs and tears interrupting his discourse, he explained to the King, as well as his attendants, the series of events which had happened, making a serious complaint in the matter. The King was astonished at his pitiable story, and sympathised much with him, and sent the Earl of Warrenne with an armed troop to Oxford, with all haste, to rescue the Romans who were lying concealed there, and to arrest the scholars; amongst the latter, one Master Odo, a lawyer, was roughly seized, and, together with thirty others, was ignominiously consigned to close imprisonment in the Castle of Wallingford, near Oxford; whilst the legate, thus liberated from the broken snare, summoned some of the Bishops, laid Oxford under an interdict, and excommunicated all the abettors of this enormous offence. The prisoners were then, at the instance of the legate, conveyed in carts, like robbers, to London, and were there committed to close confinement, after being deprived of their incomes, and bound by the anathema....