The Norman lady heaved a deep sigh. "Alas! I daresay it is but too true, and I can well understand your feelings; but I will strive to be a sister to you, if you will come with me."
"Say no more, lady; this cannot be."
"Well, then, we must part. But, mark me—though it is hard to say it of one's people—look for no compassion at the hands of my people, and beware especially of him from whom you have just escaped, for 'his tender mercies are cruel.'"
"I look for no compassion at the hands of the Normans, nor will I seek it or suffer it. The hands that are red with my kinsmen's blood, cannot be grasped in amity by me. There is a deep and bloody barrier betwixt me and thee, which a lifetime cannot erase," said Ethel bitterly.
"Alas! alas! Nevertheless, adieu, lady; we may meet again. If I can befriend you in any way, how gladly will I do it, to the very utmost of my power!" With that she hastily left the chapel—as I learnt afterwards, to try and stay as much as possible the fierce bloodshed and rapine of the soldiery. But it is needless to say her efforts were to little purpose, for though she managed to have them cleared out of the sanctuary, ere long they were back again, and, like greedy hawks, they pounced upon everything, no matter how sacred the purpose to which articles of value were devoted. They carried off the silver table of the high altar, the silver cups, dalmatics, censers of silver; in fact, everything ornamented with silver or gold. Speedily the whole of our possessions were at their mercy, excepting the things I had secreted as aforesaid. To complete this sad day's work, when nothing more of value could be had, they turned their attention to our cellarer's store of wines and ale, and the rest of the day, and the night also, was spent in drunkenness and carousing. The whole of the night was spent by the monks in prayer and fasting, whilst for the most part our refugees were glad to escape to the woods, being thankful if only they could do so with their lives. A sad day's work this for the sanctuary which had taken generations to bring it to its high state of usefulness and piety!
CHAPTER VII.
ALICE DE MONTFORT.
"And thus I clothe my naked villainy
With old odd ends, stol'n out of holy writ,
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil."
Shakespeare.