In the summer of the year 1068, in the mouth of June, I, with
twenty other men, who have, so far as I know, perished by firs in
the Dismal Swamp, was summoned to wait upon the Baron of Aescendune
in a private chamber. He told us that the honour of his house
depended upon us, and asked us whether we were willing to stand by
him in his necessity. He had selected us well. We were born on his
Norman estates, and trained up from childhood to do his will, and
that of the devil. We all promised to do whatever he should ask,
and to keep the matter a secret.
Then he told us that we were to burn the Priory of St. Wilfred at
midnight, and to allow none to escape.
This we did, we took possession silently of every exit, piled up
wood and straw, set it on fire on every side at once, and
transfixed all those who tried to break out with arrows or lances,
and hurled them back into the flames.
Long has my soul been sick with horror that I slew these holy men,
and now that all who were my companions in this deed have perished
by God's just judgment--burnt alive even as they burned--I, willing
to save my soul from the everlasting flame, do make this my
penitent confession, praying God to have mercy upon my soul.
Given in the Dismal Swamp, in the month of June, 1068.
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