But it was with sensations of chilling horror that they explored its dungeons beneath the very foundations of the towers. Some were cells for solitary confinement, of the shape of a tomb and not much larger, the stone doors of which shut with a gloomy solemn sound--the knell of hope to the captive. And then they came to the torture chamber, of which they had already heard from Ordgar, son of Haga, and saw the seat of judgment, so often occupied by him who had now passed to his dread account; they beheld the rack, the brazier, the thumbscrew, and shuddered. "I am sick," said the English heir; "take away these accursed things; burn what will burn, and throw the rest in the river; should our grandchildren find them, they may well ask what they were made for." Meanwhile the monks at the new priory were calmly awaiting their fate with a courage worthy of a better cause. They heard the joyful shouts of the English as they took possession of the castle, without flinching; they rang their bells loudly and defiantly, for the compline service at the third hour of the night (9 P.M.) This last act of audacity was too much; the natives surrounded the new priory, beat at its doors, rang the bell at the gate, blew their horns, and made a noise which baffles description, while they proceeded to batter down the gates. But not until the service was concluded, when the gate only hung by one hinge, did the prior appear. "Who are ye," he cried, "who molest the house of God, and those who serve Him within?" "A pious fox"--"a holy fox"--"smoke them out"--"set the place on fire"--"let them taste the fate which befell better men on this spot!" "In whose name," said the undismayed prior, "do ye summon me?" "In the name of the descendant of him who first founded this priory--of Wilfred, thane of Aescendune." "Ye mock us; he is dead." "Nay, he lives," said a voice, and our youthful hero appeared on the scene, and addressed the astonished monk. "Prior, go forth from the house thou and thy brethren have usurped, and make way for the true owners. By my side stands the sole survivor of the brethren whom Hugo de Malville slaughtered, Father Kenelm, a Benedictine like thyself. Admit him; he will tell thee all." "Since it may be no better, he shall come in. If I open the gates for him, ye will not take advantage?" "Stand back," cried Wilfred, "let the holy monk enter alone." And, shortly after, Father Kenelm stood in the chapter house, and explained all to the astonished Norman brethren. He told the story of the destruction of their predecessors, and pointed out the danger of resisting the now triumphant English, who felt themselves the avengers of their slaughtered ministers and friends, the former monks of St. Wilfred. "It is well," said the other; "we will go forth; thou speakest with justice, as brother to brother, and whatever befall thy companions, this shall be counted in thy favour if I have a tongue to speak."