I feel thoroughly uneasy and anxious about the sheriff's proceedings. He has been about the neighbourhood today, and seems to have been talking secretly with all the black sheep of my flock; thank God, I do not think there are many. What they can be going to do, or what plot they are hatching, I cannot discover, only I fear that it is some design for vengeance upon the Danes--some dark treachery plotted against those in our midst; and, if such is the case, I can but feel uneasy for poor Alfgar. I wish the lad would leave his home, if but for a short time, until the signs are less threatening; but he would not forsake his father in danger, and I ought hardly to wish it.
St. Brice's Day, Sunday, November 13th--
This has been a harassing and eventful day. Early in the morning, before the high mass, whereat the neighbourhood is generally present, I received a missive from the sheriff, bidding me, in the name of the King, to exhort my people to remain at home tonight, since danger is afoot, and there is likely, he says, to be a rising on the part of the pagans who dwell amongst us. Why, they are but one in five in this neighbourhood; hardly that. I determined to give the message in my own way, for I could not keep silent, lest, through fault of mine, any of my sheep should perish. So I preached upon the Saint of the day, who was pre-eminently a man of peace, and I took occasion to tell my people that there were many hurtful men about, who, like their master, Satan, were seeking whom they might devour, and that, like that master, they chose the night for their misdeeds, seeing they loved darkness rather than light. So I said I hoped every good Christian would keep at home, and go to bed early.
At this point I observed a sarcastic smile upon many faces, notably on those of the black sheep aforesaid, to whom the sheriff had spoken, and I concluded that they were very likely to be the ministers of darkness themselves. So I spoke on the Christian duties of love and forgiveness, and exhorted all present to take joyfully the chastisement of the Lord, even like holy Job; and that it would all tend to their eternal good, through Him who, when He was reviled, reviled not again. And so with this exhortation to patience I closed my homily. I fear I spoke to many in vain.
I am sure they are bent on immediate mischief, and that this notice of the sheriff has much to do with it. He wants to keep good people at home to have all the field to himself. I see him--the black bellwether.
After mass I mingled with the dispersing congregation. The weather was very gloomy--the faces of the congregation yet more so. All seemed to apprehend coming evil. Instead of returning cheerfully home they stood together in groups, talking in low tones, as if they feared to speak their thoughts aloud.
Most of them evidently were men of peace, but not all, as I have already hinted; and, as I drew near a group standing behind the great yew tree, I heard one of these latter discoursing to his fellows.
"Heard you the prior's sermon?" said Siric, for that was the fellow, Siric of the Wold; "a fine homily he gave us on St. Brice --that man of peace."
"It was easy for him to be a man of peace," returned another; "he hadn't got Danes for his neighbours."
"Holy Job himself would have turned cutthroat if he had."