Alfgar's sword had pierced his lungs, and a gush of blood rushing to the mouth stopped the breath of Higbald for ever.
"I have brought the foe upon you. We are tracked," said Alfgar. "Edric and the Danes are in alliance."
"But they have not taken this place yet; neither shall they, by God's help! Ha! was that lightning? Nay, it is winter."
A sudden burst of fiery light illuminated the scene, and the defenders looked forth, in spite of their danger, from their fortifications. The little church of St. Michael burst forth into billowing eddies of smoke and flame.
"This is a grievous sight, to see the place we had dedicated to God destroyed by the bloody heathen. O that He would stretch forth His hand as in the days of old!"
"Would I had but two hundred men; I would fall upon the villains in the rear, and leave not one," said Edmund.
"Look--the farm buildings!" cried little Hermann.
"The poor horses and oxen!" cried the Lady Bertha.
"They are safe," said Edmund. "You may hear the trampling of hoofs even now. The fools of Danes are hunting them in all directions. I do not think they will catch many."
Lights appeared in two or three places, and soon it became evident that the ruthless foe had gained their object, as the barns and stables lit up in all directions, and the manor house was surrounded by the double conflagration, so that every object was as distinctly visible as in open daylight.