these they paused, and, as good Catholics, Cnut and Cuthbert crossed
themselves. Just as they had passed one of these wayside shrines, a
sudden shout was heard, and a party of eight or ten men sprang out from
a side street and fell upon them.

Cnut and Cuthbert drew their swords and laid about them heartily, but
their assailants were too strong. Cnut was stricken to the ground, and
Cuthbert, seeing that defense was hopeless, took to his heels and ran
for his life. He was already wounded, but happily not so severely as in
any way to disable him.

Seeing that it was speed, and speed alone, which now could save him, he
flung aside his belt and scabbard as he ran, and with rapid steps flew
along the streets, not knowing whither he went, and striving only to
keep ahead of his pursuers. They, more incumbered by arms and armor,
were unable to keep up with the flying footsteps of a lad clothed in the
light attire of a page; but Cuthbert felt that the blood running from
his wound was weakening him fast, and that unless he could gain some
refuge his course must speedily come to an end. Happily he saw at some
little distance ahead of him a man standing by a door. Just as he
arrived the door opened, and a glow of light from within fell on the
road, showing that the person entering was a monk.

Without a moment's hesitation Cuthbert rushed through the door, shouting
"Sanctuary!" and sank almost fainting on the ground.

The monks, accustomed to wild pursuits and scenes of outrage in those
warlike days, hastily closed the door, barring it securely. In a moment
there was a rush of men against it from without.