[phpxmlrpc-devel] family history I thought that his gentle mind must be exercised

[Rineheart <dev...@fm...>]

Ations. In that event surely his prayers to the Virgin, Saint Cuthbert,
and Saint Oswyn, would prevail, and the Danes would come not with fire
and sword against his beloved cell. The Prior's heart glowed in hope
renewed. '_Sursum corda_,' he murmured, then recommenced his litany.
'_De Saevitia Teutonorum qui veniunt in pandis myoparonibus, libera nos,
Domine!_' Scarce had he finished, when a startled brother approached
rapidly a-tiptoe and touched the Prior gently on the shoulder. 'They
come, Holy Prior! They come! the cruel heathen can be seen swiftly
approaching in their long ships.' Prior Olaf turned ashen pale. He could
not prevent a groan escaping him, for now he knew that his penances had
not yet proved effectual. '_Mea culpa, mea culpa_,' he murmured wearily,
then as he rose up with pale cheek a gleam of fire lit in his eye, for
he would die rather than permit Saint Oswyn's shrine to be pillaged by
the heathen. He called for the sub-Prior and entrusted the defence to
him. The cell was splendidly situated, being protected on the three
sides--east, north, and west--by moat, steep cliffs, and the immediate
sea. To the south or land side a strong wall with gate tower, furnished
with parapet and brettices for casting down of stones and melted lead,
stood sentinel and protector. The sub-Prior--the light of battle in his
eye--gave orders to his affrighted flock, and bade the _Conversi_ (lay
brethren) heat the lead and carry up big stones to the brettices, where
he himself took command. Thereupon he looked down upon the serpent ships
sailing into the mouth of the Tyne, and on the sands below discharging
their freight of long-haired men with bucklers, swords, and torches in
their hands. In a plump they swarmed up the cliffs and advanced--led by
a young chief known to his followers as Er