`` The Foissoning ''

It is I, Wulf, the son of Wulfric, and the grandson of Oswald who doth mak this recorde. I am fain to tell of a great miracle I saw. God wot that it be told with alle veracity.

In the year of our saviour, ten hundred and ninety one, when I was but a beardless boy, I dwelled in a mighty castle. My father was the constable of the castle and bore about his waiste the keys to alle its chambres.

The fastness of the castle, and the fates of those who therein dwelt, were in his handes placed. Of alle his divers duties, he was charged to hold more precious than his life the great treasure. The sacred object was of great antiquity and it was revered by alle people as a symbol of God's love.

The lord of the castle was a noble manne called Sir Bullen Thyssen who, widowed at a young age, had turned himself to the wellbeing of his fellowes. In the yeare of which I tell my story, Sir Bullen and alle his squires repaired to the Kindom of Elmet to attend the Bishop's Blessing which is held on St Winnal's Day. Sir Bullen left his sonne Hugo, then a youth of fourteen, in the care of my father. My father had at his beckoning, a score of yeoman to keep the castle sounde.

On the afternoon of the morrow, the castle was assaulted by a large body of men. At their head was a monke called Godric of Copmanthorpe who was known to alle as a fierce enemy of heathens.

Godric, drew his forces to our gate and did berate us, calling us pagans and idolators. He demanded that we deliver unto his handes the Relicke of Wytches. Siege ladders sprang up from the ranks of the soldiers and a great battering ram appeared at the the rear, drawn by men in heavy mail.

I was confounded by Godric's strange demand for I knew of no relicke. My father answered with fierce conviction that every manne his life would gladly give to defend the Sacred Seed. I kenned that the monke had come for our treasure.

"So be it" roared Godric, and called on his minions to attack.

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