Then Heribald pulled off his shoe, and held it out to the brothers. "The shoe was already torn last year," said he. "Then Heribald went to the camerarius and said: 'give me my yearly portion of leather, that I may make myself a new pair of shoes.' But the camerarius replied: 'if thou didst not tread thy shoes all awry, then they would not tear,'--and so he refused the leather. Upon this, Heribald complained of the camerarius to the Abbot, but he said: 'a fool, as thou art, can well go barefoot.' Now Heribald has no decent shoes to put on; and he will not go amongst strangers with his torn ones."
Such sound reasons could not well be argued away; so the brothers seized him, intending to carry him off by force; but no sooner had they reached the passage, than Heribald broke away from them, and rushed as quick as lightning to the church and from thence up the stairs, that led to the belfry. When he had reached the very top, he drew up the small wooden ladder after him; so that there was no possibility of getting at him.
They reported to the Abbot, how matters stood. "Well, then we must leave him behind," said he. "Children and fools, are protected by a guardian-angel of their own."
Two large barges lay waiting at the shore, to receive the fugitives. They were strong, well-built ships; furnished with oars and masts. In some smaller boats, the serving people, and all others who lived on the Reichenau, sailed, with all their chattels and belongings. The whole looked a strange medley.
One bark, filled by the maid-servants, and commanded by Kerhildis the upper maid, had already steered off; without its crew knowing what place they were bound for; but fear, this time was stronger than their curiosity to see the moustaches of strange warriors.
And now the brotherhood was approaching the shore; presenting a strange sight. The greater part were armed; some chaunting the litany, others carrying the coffin of St. Mark; the Abbot with Ekkehard walking at the head of the cloister-pupils. They all cast back a sorrowful look towards the home where they had spent so many years; and then they went on board.
No sooner had they fairly started, than all the bells began to ring merrily. The weak-minded Heribald, was ringing a farewell-greeting to them. Afterwards, he appeared on the top of the cathedral-tower, and called down with a powerful voice "dominus vobiscum," and here and there, one of the monks responded in the accustomed way: "et cum spiritu tuo."
A keen breeze was curling the waves of the lake, which had only lately thawed. Numerous, large iceblocks were still floating about, so that the ships often had great difficulty in proceeding.
The monks who were taking care of St. Mark's coffin, anxiously cowered down, when the waves sometimes entered their boat; but bold and erect Abbot Wazmann's tall figure towered above the rest; his habit fluttering in the wind.
"The Lord is at our head," said he, "as He was in the fiery pillar before the people of Israel. He is with us on our flight, and He will be with us, in the hour of our happy return."