Then I will tell you all on the way." "I will fly no more," he answered, "here I will bide.

Is the king at my house ?" "He is not there, father," I said; and then I urged him to fly at once, and with me his monks joined, even going on their knees in their grief.

Yet he would not be moved.
"Surely the king will come here," he said, "nor will I go without him." "Father," I said, "the Danes have taken the king." "Then must I bide here, and pray and scheme for his release." Now I knew not how to tell him all, but at last I said: "Eadmund the king has escaped from the hands of the heathen." At that the bishop looked long at me, judging perhaps what I meant, by my voice.

But the monks rejoiced openly, at first, until they saw what was meant also, and then they trembled.
"Where is he ?" he asked, speaking low.
"Father," I said, "this twentieth day of November will be the day when England shall honour a new martyr.

Eadmund the King is numbered among them." "How died he ?" then said the bishop, folding his hands.
But now the monks bade him fly, and reasoned with and prayed him.
But he bade them save themselves, for that there would be work for them to do among the heathen.
"As for me, I am an old man," he said, "and I would fain go the same road as the king." Still they clung to him, and at last, speaking to each by name, and giving each some message to take to cell or abbey where they must go at his bidding, he commanded them; and so, unwillingly, kissing his hand and receiving his blessing, they went one by one, till he and I and one or two laymen besides were left in the little church.
Then he spoke to the other men, and they went also, and we were alone.
"That is well," said the bishop; "tell me all, and then do you fly." He sat down in his great chair, leaning his head in his hand while I told him all in that quiet place.