"I do not share your fears, my dear sons; and I have good reasons for my opinion," answered the archdeacon haughtily. "Here we are all in the punt—push off!"
A short while later the archdeacon, Gondowald the chamberlain of Queen Brunhild, and the Queen's twenty warriors landed on the Valley shore, casqued, cuirassed and armed with lances and swords. From their shoulders hung their gilt and painted bucklers.
"Is the distance long from here to the monastery?" inquired the archdeacon as he set foot on land.
"No, father; it is at the most a half hour's walk if we move briskly."
"Lead the way, my dear sons—we will follow."
"Oh, father, the impious people of this community little dream at this hour that the punishment of heaven is ready to descend upon their heads!"
"Move quickly, my sons—justice will soon be done."
"Hermanfred," said the chief of the warriors turning to one of the men in his troop, "have you with you the rope and iron manacles?"
"Yes, seigneur Gondowald."