And it happened that while we were all intent on this reading (and I
never heard one read as brother Guthlac read to us) the sub-prior came
in to call me, and pulling back the hangings of the doorway, stood
listening, where I could see him.
First of all he looked pleased to find his people so employed. Then when
the crash of the fighting verses came to his ears he started a little,
and looked round. The good brothers were like to forget their frocks,
for their fists were clenched and their eyes sparkled, and their teeth
were set, and verily I believe each man of them thought himself one of
Beowulf's comrades, if not the hero himself.
Whereupon the sub-prior and I were presently grinning at one another.
"Ho!" said he, all of a sudden. "Now were I Swithun, where would you
heathens spend tonight? Surely in the cells!"
Then for a moment they thought Grendel had indeed come, such power has
verse like this in the mouth of a good reader, and they started up, one
and all.
And the reader saw who it was, and that there was no hiding the book
from him, so they stood agape and terrified, for by this time the good
man had managed to look mighty stern.
"Good Father," said I, seeing that someone must needs speak, "I am but a
fighting man, and the brothers were considering my weakness.
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