The moon was half full, and her light was welcome indeed, for in those days the streets were unlighted, and the pavement so bad that passage through the streets after dark was a matter of difficulty, and even of danger.
Here and there before some roadside shrine a lamp dimly burned; before these they paused, and, as good Catholics, Cnut and Cuthbert crossed themselves.

Just as they had passed one of these wayside shrines, a sudden shout was heard, and a party of eight or ten men sprang out from a side street and fell upon them.
Cnut and Cuthbert drew their swords and laid about them heartily, but their assailants were too strong.

Cnut was stricken to the ground, and Cuthbert, seeing that defense was hopeless, took to his heels and ran for his life.

He was already wounded, but happily not so severely as in any way to disable him.
Seeing that it was speed, and speed alone, which now could save him, he flung aside his belt and scabbard as he ran, and with rapid steps flew along the streets, not knowing whither he went, and striving only to keep ahead of his pursuers.

They, more incumbered by arms and armor, were unable to keep up with the flying footsteps of a lad clothed in the light attire of a page; but Cuthbert felt that the blood running from his wound was weakening him fast, and that unless he could gain some refuge his course must speedily come to an end.