Berthun described another miracle done by the bishop. When the most reverend Wilfrid became Bishop of Hexham after his long exile, and John became Bishop of York on the death of the holy and humble Bosa, he came one day to a convent of nuns at a place called Wetadun,1 ruled at the time by the Abbess Heriburg. ‘When we had arrived and been welcomed with general rejoicing, the abbess informed us that one of the nuns, her own daughter, was very seriously ill. She told us that the nun had recently been bled in the arm and that, while she was being treated, she was suddenly seized by a violent pain which rapidly increased, so that the wounded arm grew worse and became so swollen that it could hardly be encircled with two hands. In consequence, the nun was lying in bed in terrible pain and seemed likely to die. The abbess therefore begged the bishop to visit her and give her his blessing, being sure that she would improve if the bishop blessed or touched her. He enquired when the girl had been bled, and when he learned that it had been on the fourth day of the moon, he said: “You have acted most foolishly and unwisely to carry out blood-letting on the fourth day of the moon. I remember that Archbishop Theodore, of blessed memory, said that it was very dangerous to bleed at a time when the light of the moon and the pull of the tide is increasing. And what can I do for the girl if she is going to die?” But the abbess pressed him most earnestly on behalf of her daughter, who was very dear to her, and whom she intended to appoint abbess in her own place, and at length she prevailed on him to visit the sick girl. So he went in, taking me with him to see the girl who, as I have said, lay helpless and in great pain, with her arm swollen to such a size that she could not bend her elbow. The bishop stood and said a prayer over her, and having given her his blessing, went out. Some while later, as we were sitting at table, someone came in and asked me to come outside, saying: “Coenburg” – for that was the girl’s name – “wishes you to come back to her room at once.” I did so, and when I entered, I found her looking cheerful and apparently in sound health. And when I sat down by her, she said: “Would you like me to ask for a drink?” “Certainly,” I replied, “I shall be delighted if you will.” When a cup had been brought and we had both drunk, she began to tell me what had happened. “As soon as the bishop had blessed me and gone away, I began to feel better; and although I have not yet recovered my full strength, the pain has entirely left my arm where it was most intense, and all my body. It was as though the bishop took it away with him entirely when he left, although the swelling on my arm seems to remain.” As we were leaving the convent, the disappearance of the pain in her limbs was promptly followed by a subsidence of the swelling, and the girl, saved from pain and death, gave thanks to our Lord and Saviour with all the other servants of God in the place.’
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Watton, near Beverley. ↩