The period of relative peace we enjoyed this year gave me the opportunity I had long coveted to move forward with my plan to construct a church. To this purpose, I travelled home to Sondwic where, to my dismay, I discovered Father Godfred had died three years before. This came as a severe shock because I loved and trusted my former confessor. My plans, now in fragments, were to follow his advice. His successor, an earnest young fellow named Fremund, showed me Godfred’s grave where he led me in prayer before leaving me in silence to relive memories of past times.
When I joined him later, I outlined my plan, which he embraced with unexpected enthusiasm.
“There is a place two leagues to the north-east of here where the folk toil in a dour struggle with the earth. They scratch out a living f
