The order was again given that all the gates of the abbey should be kept closed; and during the whole of that day, or from the rising of the sun to the setting thereof, no living soul was allowed either to enter the house or to issue therefrom. So much did the traitors fear lest their treasons and the wrongs they had done unto the good Lord Abbat should become known to the good folk of Ely town, and through them to the warriors in the Camp of Refuge. Some of the Saxon prelates had gone forth for the Camp several days before, and had not yet returned; but such as remained in the house (only a few sick and aged men) were told that the Lord Abbat was sick, and could not be spoken with, and that the doors and gates were kept closed in order that he might not be disturbed. Nor was this all false. Thurstan's wrath, and then his grief and perturbations, had brought on a fever and ague and he was lying on his bed in a very helpless and very hopeless state, with none to help him or hear him, for the sub-prior had made fast the door of the inner chamber, and the door of the chamber which led into it; and the guard was stationed at a distance in the corridor.
It was just before sunset of the disastrous day which saw the traitorous monks of Ely return from the castle at Cam-Bridge, that the Lord of Brunn and his trusty sword-bearer arrived at Turbutsey[240] (where the monks of old had landed the body of Saint Withburga) with the corn and wine for the abbey; and also with the dead body of the Salernitan, which they hoped to inter in the abbey church-yard. Turbutsey had but few in-dwellers; and the poor hinds that were there had heard nothing of the foul report of Lord Hereward's death, which had wrought such mischief in the abbey. Lord Hereward, eager to be at his proper post in the Camp of Refuge, took the direct road, or path, which led thereunto, carrying with him, for the comfort of secular stomachs, only a few flagons of wine and a few measures of wheat, and ordering Elfric to go up to the abbey with all the rest of the provision, as soon as it should be all landed from the boats and skerries. But, before the landing was finished, there came down some gossips from the township of Ely, who reported with marvellous sad faces, that the gates of the abbey had been closed ever since the mid-day of yesterday; and that the whole house was as silent and sad as a pest-house, on account, no doubt, of the death of the good Lord of Brunn, the kind-hearted, open-handed lord, who had ever befriended the Saxon poor! Upon hearing them talk in this fashion, the sword bearer came up to the gossips, and told them that the Lord of Brunn was no more dead than he was.