It was a fortnight ago, and our harvest was all gathered in. God had
blessed our increase, and our garners were full with all manner of
store; women and children had mainly been the reapers, but the Lady
Hilda herself had been present amongst them, and so had her daughter,
my niece, Ethelgiva, even sometimes labouring with their own hands.

Alfgar and Bertric had worked like common serfs, and did themselves
honour thereby, for true nobility lies not in being idle, save in the
field of battle, as the bloody Northmen vainly think.

Well, the work was over, and we had a mass of thanksgiving, after
which Bertric and Alfgar went hunting in the forest. In the evening
there was a harvest home; it was of course a strange one without the
men, who were afar off, fighting for their country, but we tried to be
thankful for mercies vouchsafed, and I and Father Adhelm were there to
bless the food.

We found a large party assembled--as many, indeed, as the hall would
contain. My sister, the Lady Hilda, was somewhat uneasy, because
Alfgar and Bertric were not yet back, but still not much alarmed, for
what harm could befall such lads in the woods? So I blessed the food
and the feast commenced.

Eating and drinking were over, and the old gleeman, striking his harp,
was beginning a song of harvest home, when in rushed the two young
theows who had gone out with Alfgar and Bertric, with the startling
intelligence that there was a band of Northmen lurking in the woods,
who had seized their young lords, and were, they thought, bent on
attacking the place.