"Do your thumbs pain you now?" asked Osric.
"Not so much; but the place where the bar crossed them yet burns—the pain was maddening."
"Dip this linen in the stream, and bind it round them; they will soon be well. Meanwhile you have the satisfaction that your brave endurance has proved your faithfulness: not many lads had borne as much."
"I knew it was life or death to my father; how then could I give way to the accursed Norman?"
"Pain is sometimes a powerful reasoner. How did they catch you?"
"I was sent on an errand by my father, and a hunting party saw and chased me; they questioned me about the outlaws, till they convinced themselves I was one, and brought me to the castle, where they put on the thumbscrew, and told me there it should remain till I told them all the secrets of the band—especially their hiding-places. I moaned with the pain, but did not utter a word; and they left me, saying I should soon confess or go mad; then God sent you."
"Yes, God had sent him." Osric longed no more for the fleshpots of Egypt.
Just as the autumnal dawn was breaking they arrived at the junction of Tame and Isis, and the Synodune Hills rose above them. They ascended the former stream, and followed its winding course with some difficulty, as the willows on the bank interfered with the proper management of the boat, until they came to the abbey-wharf. They landed; entered the precincts, bearing those who could neither walk nor limp, and supporting those who limped, to the hospitium.
They were in sanctuary.
In the city of refuge, and safe while they remained there. Whatever people may think of monasteries now, they thanked God for them then. It is quite true that in those dreadful days even sanctuary was violated from time to time, but it was not likely to be so in this instance. Brian Fitz-Count respected the forms and opinions of the Church, outwardly at least; although he hated them in his inward heart, especially when they came between him and his prey.