not the stake, God of Abraham. If ye must slay, at least spare
the agonising flames; but what mercy can we hope for, we faithful
children of Abraham, from Nazarenes?"

"What price art thou willing to pay for thy forfeit life, if thy
sentence is commuted to exile from this land?"

"Price? Canst thou mean it? I will fill thy chambers with gold."

"I seek it not--albeit," added the worthy bishop, "some were fitly
bestowed on the poor--but that thou, whose former crime hast
brought a worthy youth to the block, shouldst undo the mischief as
far as thou art able."

"But what can I do? who would heed me?"

"Dost thou not know of a drug, which shall throw the drinker
thereof into a trance, so like death that all shall believe him
dead?"

"I do indeed."

"And art thou sure of thy power to revive the sleeper from this
seeming death, after the lapse of days--after men have committed
him as a corpse to the tomb?"

"I can do so with facility if I have the necessary drugs; but I am
stripped of all. Were I in London--"

"Hast thou no brethren in Oxenford?"

"Yea, verily, I remember Zacharias the Jew, who lives hard by the
river, in the parish of St. Ebba."

"Canst thou trust him with thy life?"

"He is a brother."

"Ye are better brothers than many Christians. I will send him to
thee, and he shall supply thee with the necessary medicaments. If
the experiment succeed, and absolute secrecy be observed, I will
cause thy sentence to be commuted to banishment, with the
forfeiture of some portion of thine ill-gotten goods; otherwise
there remaineth but the stake."

And Geoffrey of Coutances departed.

An hour later, Zacharias of St. Ebba's parish entered; the two
conferred a long time--Zacharias departed--returned again--and in
the evening of the following day sought the bishop and placed a
packet in his hand.

It was the last night on which poor Wilfred was allowed by Norman
mercy to live. The archbishop was with him.

He was penitent and resigned; his last confession was made, and it
was arranged that on the morrow he should receive the Holy
Communion at St. George's Chapel, within the precincts, from the
hands of Lanfranc, ere led forth to die, as now ordered, upon that
mound the visitor to Oxford still beholds, hard by that same donjon
tower.

"I thank thee, father," he said to Lanfranc--"I thank thee for the
hope thou hast given me of meeting those I have lost, in a better
and brighter world."

"Thou diest