So the song and the banquet lasted until the midnight hour, and the
castle of Hugo echoed the old forgotten songs of the glories of
Anglo-Saxon England.
CHAPTER XVIII. AT THE ABBEY OF ABINGDON.
Upon the banks of the Isis, about eight miles above its junction
with the Tame, stood the ancient town of Abingdon, which had grown
up around the famous monastic foundation of Ina, King of Wessex
{xvii}.
The river divides, at this point, into three branches, encircling
two islands {xviii}; partly on the southern bank, and partly on
the nearest of these islands, stood the mighty Abbey, one of the
largest and most renowned of the Benedictine houses of England.
And on the other island the Conqueror himself had built a country
seat whither he often retired, as convenient headquarters, whence
to enjoy the pleasures of the chase in the vale of White Horse,
famous in the annals of the Anglo-Saxon race for Alfred's great
victory over the Danes.
Few, alas, of the old English inhabitants lingered in the town,
save as bondsmen; few of the old English brethren, save as drudges.
For had they not alike incurred the wrath of the victor? Had not
the chief vassals of the abbey led their men forth to fight under
the hapless Harold?--nevermore, alas! to return--and had not the
monks blessed their banner and sanctified their patriotic zeal?
And since, on the one hand, William claimed to be the lawful
sovereign, and, on the other, the Pope had blessed the invaders, it
was clear that the Godrics and Thurkills who had committed their
cause to God before the wonder-working black cross of St.
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