Part 15 (2/2)

Returning to the inn he sought Father Cuthbert, and found him somewhat uneasy at his long absence, and to him he communicated all that he had seen and heard.

The good father was a man of sound sense but of much affection, and at first he could not credit that the boy he had loved so well, Elfric of Aescendune, should have grown to be the a.s.sociate of murderers, for such only could either he or Alfred style the agents of Edwy's wrath.

But, once fully convinced, he was equal to the emergency.

”We will not start at once, we should but break down on the road, and defeat our own object. We must rest quietly, and sleep soundly if possible, and start with the earliest dawn. We shall reach Glas...o...b..ry by midday, and be able to warn the holy abbot of his danger in good time.”

So Alfred was forced to curb his impatience and to try to sleep soundly.

Father Cuthbert soon gave good a.s.surance that he was asleep; but the noisy manner in which the a.s.surance was given banished sleep from the eyelids of his anxious pupil. At length he yielded to weariness both of mind and body, and the overwrought brain was still.

He was but little refreshed when he heard Father Cuthbert's morning salutation, ”_Benedicamus Domino_,” and could hardly stammer out the customary reply, ”_Deo gratias_.”

Every one rose early in those days, and the timely departure of the party from Aescendune excited no special comment. Hundreds of pilgrims were on the road, and Alfred expressed his conviction that there would be force enough at Glas...o...b..ry to protect Dunstan, to which Father Cuthbert replied--”If he would accept such protection.”

On former days their journey had been frequently impeded by broken bridges and dangerous fords; but as they drew near Glas...o...b..ry the presence of a mighty civilising power became manifest. The fields were well tilled, for the possessions for miles around the abbey were let to tenant farmers by the monks, who had first reclaimed them from the wilderness. The farm houses and the abodes of the poor were better constructed, and the streams were all bridged over, while the old Roman road was kept in tolerable repair.

A short distance before they reached the city, the pilgrims, who were a s.p.a.ce in advance of the party, came in sight of the towers of the monastery, whereupon they all paused for one moment, and raised the solemn strain then but recently composed--

I.

Founded on the Rock of Ages, Salem, city of the blest, Built of living stones most precious, Vision of eternal rest, Angel hands, in love attending, Thee in bridal robes invest.

II.

Down from G.o.d all new descending Thee our joyful eyes behold, Like a bride adorned for spousals, Decked with radiant wealth untold; All thy streets and walls are fas.h.i.+oned, All are bright with purest gold!

III.

Gates of pearl, for ever open, Welcome there the loved, the lost; Ransomed by their Saviour's merits; This the price their freedom cost: City of eternal refuge, Haven of the tempest-tost.

IV.

Fierce the blow, and firm the pressure, Which hath polished thus each stone: Well the Mastermind hath fitted To his chosen place each one.

When the Architect takes reck'ning, He will count the work His Own.

V.

Glory be to G.o.d, the Father; Glory to th' Eternal Son; Glory to the Blessed Spirit: One in Three, and Three in One.

Glory, honour, might, dominion, While eternal ages run.

Amen.[xx]

The grand strains seemed to bring a.s.surance of Divine aid to Alfred, and he could but imitate Father Cuthbert, who lifted up his stentorian voice and thundered out in chorus, as they drew near the pilgrims.

Here they left the Foss Way for the side road leading to the monastery, now only a short distance from them.

CHAPTER XI. THE FLIGHT OF DUNSTAN.

It was the day of St. Alban, the protomartyr of England, and the saint was greatly honoured at Glas...o...b..ry, where, as we have seen, Dunstan was in residence, and, as a natural consequence, every department of the monastic life was quickened by his presence. The abbey was full of monks who had professed the Benedictine rule, and having but recently been rebuilt, it possessed many improvements hardly yet introduced into English architecture in general. The greater part of the building was of stone, and it was not, in its general features, unlike some of the older colleges at Oxford or Cambridge, although the order of the architecture was, of course, exclusively that of the Saxon period, characterised by the heavy and ma.s.sive, yet imposing, circular arch.

But upon the church or abbey chapel all the skill of the architect had been concentrated, and it seemed worthy alike of its founder and of its object. Seen upon the morning in question, when the bright summer sun filled every corner with gladsome light, just as the long procession of white-robed priests, and monks in their sombre garb, with their hoods thrown back, were entering for high ma.s.s, and the choral psalm arose, it was peculiarly imposing.

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