Abbot Radulfus listened, nodded his formidable head with hisusual prompt comprehension and decision, and said, “Verywell, do it!”

As soon as the long snowfall ceased, and the skieslifted, the tough inhabitants of the Foregate sallied forth fromtheir houses, well muffled and armed with shovels and brooms andlong-handled rakes, and began to clear their way out to thehighroad, and between them dig out a passage to the bridge and thetown, where no doubt the stout burgesses within the walls weretackling the same seasonal enemy. The frost still held, and day byday fretted away mysteriously into the air the surface fringes ofevery drift, by infinitely slow degrees lessening the load. By thetime a few of the main highways were again passable, and a fewtravelers, either foolhardy or having no choice, were laboriouslyriding them, Brother Conradin had his scaffolding up, his ladderssecurely braced up the slope of the roof, and all hands takingtheir turn aloft in the withering cold, cautiously shifting thegreat burden of snow, to get at the fractured lead and brokenslates. A moraine of crumpled, untidy snow hills formed along thefrozen drainage channel, and one unwary brother, who had failed tohear or heed the warning shout from above, was briefly buried by aminor avalanche, and had to be dug out hurriedly and dispatched tothe warming room to thaw out.

By then the way was open between town and Foregate, and news,however hampered and slow its passage, could be carried fromWinchester even to Shrewsbury in time to reach the castle garrisonand the sheriff of the shire some days before Christmas.