"You are early wayfarers, my sons," the monk who opened the gates
said as they went up, "and you seem to have travelled far."
"That have we, father, and are sorely in need of food."
The hospitality of the monasteries was unbounded, and the monk at
once led them into the kitchen, where bread, meat, and wine were
placed before them.
"Truly you were hungry," the monk said smilingly as he watched their
onslaught upon the joint.
"We were well-nigh starving, father. For two days we have had nought
to eat save a crust of bread we had brought with us, and some that
a shepherd's wife bestowed upon us out of charity, and we have
walked from near Hesdin."
"I do not ask out of curiosity, my sons," the monk said after a
pause, "and you know it is not our custom to question wayfarers who
come in to ask our hospitality; but it is strange to see two youths,
who by their dress and manner seem to belong to a superior station,
in so pitiable a state as you are, and wandering alone, as it would
seem, penniless through the country. I ask not your confidence, but
if you chose to give it maybe we might aid or advise you. Our prior
is a kindly man and very gentle with the faults of others."
"We are Saxons, father. We were wrecked four days since near St.
Valery, and are now bound on an errand of high importance to Duke
William, to whom it is urgent we should arrive as soon as possible.
We have run sore peril on the way, and have been stripped of our
money and valuables.
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