"And if he comes back safe from this battle, he will give you ten pennies
for yourself and your church, Priest, and therefore expects you to pray
your very loudest while he is gone."

"I will pray, I will pray," said the holy man; "I will wrestle in prayer.
Ah that he could slay the wicked, and reward the proud according to his
deservings! Ah that he could rid me and my master, and my young lady, of
this son of Belial,--this devourer of widows and orphans,--this slayer of
the poor and needy, who fills this place with innocent blood,--him of whom
it is written, 'They stretch forth their mouth unto the heaven, and their
tongue goeth through the world. Therefore fall the people unto them, and
thereout suck they no small advantage.' I will shrive him, shrive him of
all save robbing the priest, and for that he must go to the bishop, if he
live; and if not, the Lord have mercy on his soul."

And so, weeping and trembling, the good old man pronounced the words of
absolution.

Hereward rose, thanked him, and then hurried out in silence.

"You will pray your very loudest, Priest," said Martin, as he followed his
young lord.

"I will, I will," quoth he, and kneeling down began to chant that noble
seventy-third Psalm, "Quam bonus Israel," which he had just so fitly
quoted.

"Thou gavest him the bag, Martin?" said Hereward, as they hurried on.

"You are not dead yet. 'No pay, no play,' is as good a rule for priest as