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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1119ea1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #54583 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/54583) diff --git a/old/54583-8.txt b/old/54583-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e379939..0000000 --- a/old/54583-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13181 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Brian Fitz-Count, by A. D. (Augustine David) -Crake - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Brian Fitz-Count - A Story of Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey - - -Author: A. D. (Augustine David) Crake - - - -Release Date: April 20, 2017 [eBook #54583] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIAN FITZ-COUNT*** - - -E-text prepared by MWS, Martin Pettit, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/brianfitzcountst00crak - - - - - -BRIAN FITZ-COUNT - - - * * * * * * - -By the same Author. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 7s. 6d. - -HISTORY OF THE CHURCH - -UNDER THE ROMAN EMPIRE, - -A.D. 30-476. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 3s. 6d. - -EDWY THE FAIR, - -OR THE - -FIRST CHRONICLE OF ÆSCENDUNE. - -A TALE OF THE DAYS OF SAINT DUNSTAN. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 3s. 6d. - -ALFGAR THE DANE, - -OR THE SECOND CHRONICLE OF ÆSCENDUNE. - -A TALE OF THE DAYS OF EDMUND IRONSIDE. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 3s. 6d. - -THE RIVAL HEIRS, - -BEING THE THIRD AND LAST CHRONICLE OF ÆSCENDUNE. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 3s. 6d. - -THE HOUSE OF WALDERNE. - -A TALE OF THE CLOISTER AND THE FOREST IN THE -DAYS OF THE BARONS' WARS. - - * * * * * * - - -BRIAN FITZ-COUNT - -A Story of Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey - -by - -THE REV. A. D. CRAKE, B.A. - -Vicar of Cholsey, Berks; and Fellow of the Royal Historical Society; -Author of the 'Chronicles Of Æscendune,' etc. etc. - - - 'Heu miserande puer, siqua fata aspera rumpas, - Tu Marcellus eris.' - VIRGIL: _Æneid_, vi. 882-3. - - - - - - -Rivingtons -Waterloo Place, London -MDCCCLXXXVIII - - - -DEDICATED WITH GREAT RESPECT - -TO - -JOHN KIRBY HEDGES, ESQ., J.P. - -OF WALLINGFORD CASTLE - - - - -PREFACE - - -The author has accomplished a desire of many years in writing a story of -Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey. They are the two chief -historical landmarks of a country familiar to him in his boyhood, and -now again his home. The first was the most important stronghold on the -Thames during the calamitous civil war of King Stephen's days. The -second was founded at the commencement of the twelfth century, and was -built with the stones which came from the Bishop's palace in Dorchester, -abandoned when Remigius in 1092 removed the seat of the Bishopric to -Lincoln. - -The tale is all too true to mediæval life in its darker features. The -reader has only to turn to the last pages of the _Anglo-Saxon Chronicle_ -to justify the terrible description of the dungeons of the Castle, and -the sufferings inflicted therein. Brian Fitz-Count was a real personage. -The writer has recorded his dark deeds, but has striven to speak gently -of him, especially of his tardy repentance; his faults were those of -most Norman barons. - -The critic may object that the plot of the story, so far as the secret -of Osric's birth is concerned, is too soon revealed--nay, is clear from -the outset. It was the writer's intention, that the fact should be -patent to the attentive reader, although unknown at the time to the -parties most concerned. Many an intricate story is more interesting the -second time of reading than the first, from the fact that the reader, -having the key, can better understand the irony of fate in the tale, and -the hearing of the events upon the situation. - -In painting the religious system of the day, he may be thought by -zealous Protestants too charitable to the Church of our forefathers; for -he has always brought into prominence the evangelical features which, -amidst much superstition, ever existed within her, and which in her -deepest corruption was still _the salt_ which kept society from utter -ruin and degradation. But, as he has said elsewhere, it is a far nobler -thing to seek points of agreement in controversy, and to make the best -of things, than to be gloating over "corruptions" or exaggerating the -faults of our Christian ancestors. At the same time the author must not -be supposed to sympathise with all the opinions and sentiments which, in -consistency with the period, he puts into the mouth of theologians of -the twelfth century. - -There has been no attempt to introduce archaisms in language, save that -the Domesday names of places are sometimes given in place of the modern -ones where it seemed appropriate or interesting to use them. The -speakers spoke either in Anglo-Saxon or Norman-French: the present -diction is simply translation. The original was quite as free from -stiffness, so far as we can judge. - -The roads, the river, the hills, all the details of the scenery have -been familiar to the writer since his youth, and are therefore described -from personal knowledge. The Lazar-House at Byfield yet lingers in -tradition. Driving by the "Pond" one day years ago, the dreary sheet of -water was pointed out as the spot where the lepers once bathed; and the -informant added that to that day the natives shrank from bathing -therein. A strange instance of the long life of oral tradition--which -is, however, paralleled at Bensington, where the author in his youth -found traditions of the battle of the year 777 yet in existence, -although the fight does not find a place, or did not then, in the short -histories read in schools. - -The author dedicates this book, with great respect, to the present owner -of the site and remains of Wallingford Castle, John Kirby Hedges, Esq., -who with great kindness granted him free access to the Castle-grounds at -all times for the purposes of the story; and whose valuable work, _The -History of Wallingford_, has supplied the topographical details and the -special history of the Castle. For the history of Dorchester Abbey, he -is especially indebted to the notes of his lamented friend, the late -vicar of Dorchester. - -A. D. C. - -CHRISTMAS 1887. - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAP. PAGE - I. THE LORD OF THE CASTLE 1 - - II. THE CHASE 8 - - III. WHO STRUCK THE STAG? 16 - - IV. IN THE GREENWOOD 24 - - V. CWICHELM'S HLAWE 32 - - VI. ON THE DOWNS 40 - - VII. DORCHESTER ABBEY 48 - - VIII. THE BARON AND HIS PRISONERS 56 - - IX. THE LEPERS 64 - - X. THE NEW NOVICE 72 - - XI. OSRIC'S FIRST RIDE 79 - - XII. THE HERMITAGE 87 - - XIII. OSRIC AT HOME 95 - - XIV. THE HERMITAGE 104 - - XV. THE ESCAPE FROM OXFORD CASTLE 117 - - XVI. AFTER THE ESCAPE 131 - - XVII. LIFE AT WALLINGFORD CASTLE 141 - - XVIII. BROTHER ALPHEGE 150 - - XIX. IN THE LOWEST DEPTHS 158 - - XX. MEINHOLD AND HIS PUPILS 170 - - XXI. A DEATHBED DISCLOSURE 178 - - XXII. THE OUTLAWS 189 - - XXIII. THE PESTILENCE (AT BYFIELD) 200 - - XXIV. THE OPENING OF THE PRISON HOUSE 206 - - XXV. THE SANCTUARY 216 - - XXVI. SWEET SISTER DEATH 226 - - XXVII. FRUSTRATED 234 - -XXVIII. FATHER AND SON 244 - - XXIX. IN THE HOLY LAND 257 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE LORD OF THE CASTLE - - -It was the evening of the 30th of September in the year of grace 1139; -the day had been bright and clear, but the moon, arising, was rapidly -overpowering the waning light of the sun. - -Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of Wallingford Castle by marriage with the Lady -Maude (_Matildis Domina de Walingfort_), the widow of the doughty Baron -Milo Crispin, who died in 1107, without issue--was pacing the ramparts -of his castle, which overlooked the Thames. Stern and stark was this -mediæval baron, and large were his possessions. He was the son of Count -Alain of Brittany[1]--a nephew of Hamelin de Baladin, of Abergavenny -Castle, from whom he inherited large possessions in Wales: a nephew also -of Brian, lord of a manor in Cornwall, which he also inherited. - - - "Great his houses, lands, and castles, - Written in the Domesday Book." - - -Furthermore, he was an especial favourite with Henry the First, who -commanded the Lady of Wallingford to marry his minion--according to the -law which placed such widows at the disposal of the crown--he was -present at the consecration of the great abbey of Reading, where amongst -the co-signatories we read "_Signum Brientii filii comitis, de -Walingfort_:" the seal of Brian Fitz-Count of Wallingford. - -He walked the ramparts on this last evening of September, and gazed -upon his fair castle, or might have done so had his mind been at rest, -but "black care sat on his back." - -Still we will gaze, unimpeded by that sable rider, although we fear he -is not dead yet. - -The town of Wallingford had been utterly destroyed by the Danes in 1006, -as recorded in our former story of _Alfgar the Dane_. It was soon -afterwards rebuilt, and in the time of Edward the Confessor, was in the -hands of the thane, and shire-reeve (sheriff) Wigod de Wallingford, a -cupbearer of the pious monarch, and one who shared all that saintly -king's Norman proclivities. Hence it is not wonderful that when William -the Conqueror could not cross the Thames at Southwark, owing to the -opposition of the brave men of London town, he led his army along the -southern bank of the great river to Wallingford, where he was assured of -sympathy, and possessed an English partisan. Here Wigod received him in -his hall--a passable structure for those times--which subsequently -formed a part of the castle which the Norman king ordered to be built, -and which became one of the strongest fortresses in the kingdom, and the -key of the midlands. - -The Conqueror was a guest of Wigod for several days, and before he left -he witnessed the marriage of the eldest daughter of his host, the -English maiden Aldith, to a Norman favourite, Robert d'Oyley, whom he -made Lord of Oxford. - -Now the grand-daughter of that Wigod, whom we will not call traitor to -his country--although some might deem him so--in default of male issue, -became the wife of Brian Fitz-Count. The only son of Wigod, who might -have passed on the inheritance to a line of English lords--Tokig of -Wallingford--died in defence of William the Conqueror[2] at the battle -of Archenbrai, waged between the father and his son Robert Courthose. - -To build the new castle,[3] Robert d'Oyley, who succeeded to the -lordship on the death of Wigod, destroyed eight houses, which furnished -space for the enlargement, and material for the builders. We are not -told whether he made compensation--it is doubtful. - -The castle was built within the ancient walls in the north-east quarter -of the town, occupying a space of some twenty or thirty acres, and its -defence on the eastern side was the Thames. - -Within the precincts rose one of those vast mounds thrown up by -Ethelfleda, lady of the Mercians, and daughter of the great Alfred, a -century and a half earlier. It formed the kernel of the new stronghold, -and surmounted by a lofty tower, commanded a wondrous view of the -country around, from a height of some two hundred feet. - -On the north-east lay the long line of the Chilterns; on the south-west, -the Berkshire downs stretching towards Cwichelm's Hlawe, and the White -Horse Hill; between the two lay the gorge of the Thames, and in the -angle the fertile alluvial plain, chiefly filled at that time by a vast -park or chase, or by forest or marsh land. - -The Chilterns were covered with vast beech forests, the Berkshire downs -were more bare. - -There were three bastions to the north and two on the south; within the -inner dyke or moat on the east was the "glacis," which sloped abruptly -towards the river: the main entrance, on the west, was approached by a -series of drawbridges, while beneath the tower a heavy portcullis -defended the gateway. - -Upon the keep stood two sentinels, who from the summit of their lofty -tower scrutinised the roads and open country all day long, until they -were relieved by those who watched by night. Beneath them lay the town -with its moat, and earthen rampart in compass a good mile and more, -joining the river at each extremity. Within the compass were eleven -parishes, "well and sufficiently built," with one parish church in each -of them, well constructed, and with chaplains and clerks daily -officiating, so that people had no lack of spiritual provision. - -Beyond, the roads stretched in all directions: the Lower Icknield Street -ran by woody Ewelme along the base of the downs, towards distant -Stokenchurch and Wycombe; while on the opposite side, it ran across the -wild moor land through Aston and Blewbery to the Berkshire downs, where -it joined the upper way again, and continued its course for Devizes. Our -readers will know this road well by and by. - -Another road led towards the hills, called "Ye Kynge's Standynge," where -it ascended the downs, and joining the upper Icknield Street, stretched -across the slopes of Lowbury Hill, the highest point on the eastern -downs, where the remains of a strong Roman tower formed a conspicuous -object at that date. Another road led directly to the west, and to -distant Ffaringdune, along the southern side of the twin hills of -Synodune. - -Now we will cease from description and take up our story. - - -"Our lord looks ill at ease," said Malebouche, one of the sentinels on -the keep, to Bardulf, his companion. - -"As well he may on this day!" - -"Why on this day?" - -"Dost thou not know that he is childless?" - -"I suppose that is the case every day in the year." - -"Ah, thou art fresh from fair Brittany, so I will tell thee the tale, -only breathe it not where our lord can hear of my words, or I shall make -acquaintance with his dog-whip, if not with gyves and fetters. Well, it -chanced that thirteen years agone he burnt an old manor-house over on -the downs near Compton, inhabited by a family of English churls who -would not pay him tribute; the greater part of the household, unable to -escape, perished in the flames, and amongst them, the mother and eldest -child. In a dire rage and fury the father, who escaped, being absent -from home, plotted revenge. Our lord had a son then, a likely lad of -some three summers, and soon afterwards, on this very day, the child was -out with scanty attendance taking the air, for who, thought they, would -dare to injure the heir of the mighty baron, when some marauders made a -swoop from the woods on the little party, slew them all and carried off -the child--at least the body was never found, while those of the -attendants lay all around, male and female." - -"And did not they make due search?" - -"Thou mayst take thy corporal oath of that. They searched every thicket -and fastness, but neither the child nor any concerned in the outrage -were ever found. They hung two or three poor churls and vagrants on -suspicion, but what good could that do; there was no proof, and the -wretches denied all knowledge." - -"Did not they try the 'question,' the '_peine forte et dure_?'" - -"Indeed they did, but although one poor vagrant died under it, he -revealed nothing, because he had nothing to reveal, I suppose." - -"What ho! warder! dost thou see nought on the roads?" cried a stern, -loud voice which made both start. - -"Nought, my lord." - -"Keep a good look-out; I expect guests." - -And Brian Fitz-Count resumed his walk below--to and fro, communing with -his own moody thoughts. - -An hour had passed away, when the sentinel cried aloud-- - -"A party of men approaches along the lower Ickleton Way from the west." - -"How many in number?" - -"About twenty." - -"Where are they?" - -"They cross the moor and have just left the South Moor Town." - -"Canst thou make out their cognisance?" - -"The light doth not serve." - -"Order a troop of horse: I ride to meet them; let the banquet be -prepared." - -In another quarter of an hour a little party dashed over the lowered -drawbridges and out on the western road; meanwhile the great hall was -lighted, and the cooks hurried on the feast. - -In less than another hour the blast of trumpets announced the return of -the Lord of the Castle with his guest. And Brian Fitz-Count rode proudly -into his stronghold: on his right hand rode a tall knight, whose squires -and attendants followed behind with the Wallingford men. - -"Welcome, Sir Milo of Gloucester, to my castle," exclaimed the Lord of -Wallingford, as he clasped the hand of his visitor beneath the entrance -tower. - -"By'r ladye, a fine stronghold this of yours; that tower on the keep -might rival in height the far-famed tower of Babel." - -"We do not hope to scale Heaven, although, forsooth, if the Masses said -daily in Wallingford are steps in the ladder, it will soon be long -enough." - -And they both laughed grimly in a way which did not infer implicit -belief in the power of the Church. - -"The bath, then the board--prepare the bath for our guest." - -So they led him to the bathroom, for the Normans washed themselves, for -which the natives charged them with effeminacy; and there they brought -towels, and perfumed waters, and other luxuries. After which two pages -conducted the guest to the great hall, which was nearly a hundred feet -in length. The high table stood at the one end upon a platform, and -there the Lord of Wallingford seated himself, while upon his left hand -sat the Lady Maude, a lady of middle age, and upon his right a seat of -state was prepared, to which the pages led his visitor. - -Fully two hundred men banqueted in the hall that night, boards on -trestles were distributed all along the length at right angles to the -high table, with space between for the servers to pass, and troops of -boys and lower menials squatted on the rushes, while the men-at-arms sat -at the board. - -A gallery for the musicians projected above the feasters on one side of -the hall, and there a dozen performers with harps and lutes played -warlike songs, the while the company below ate and drank. The music was -rough but seemed to stir the blood as its melody rose and fell. - -And when at last the banquet was ended, a herald commanded silence, and -Brian Fitz-Count addressed the listening throng: - -"My merry men all, our guest here bringeth us news which may change our -festal attire for helm and hauberk, and convert our ploughshares and -pruning-hooks into swords and lances; but nought more of this to-night, -the morrow we hunt the stag, and when we meet here on to-morrow night I -may have welcome news for all merry men who love war and glory better -than slothful ease." - -A loud burst of applause followed the speech, the purport of which they -fully understood, for the long peace had wearied them, and they were all -eager for the strife as the beasts of prey for rapine, so in song and -wassail they spent the evening, while the Baron and his guest withdrew -to take secret council in an inner chamber. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. - -[2] William's first wound came from the hand from which a wound is most -bitter. Father and son met face to face in the battle; the parricidal -spear of Robert pierced the hand of his father, an arrow at the same -moment struck the horse on which he rode, and the Conqueror lay for a -moment on the earth expecting death at the hands of his own son. A loyal -Englishman sped to the rescue--Tokig, the son of Wigod of Wallingford, -sprang down and offered his horse to the fallen king--at that moment the -shot of a crossbow gave the gallant thane of Berkshire a mortal wound, -and Tokig gave up his life for his sovereign.--_Freeman._ - -[3] Leland writes--giving his own observations in the sixteenth century -(temp. Henry VIII.):--"The castle joineth to the north gate of the town, -and hath three dykes, large and deep and well watered; about each of the -two first dykes, as upon the crests of the ground, runneth an embattled -wall now sore in ruin; all the goodly building with the tower and -dungeon be within the three dykes." The dykes or moats were supplied -with water from the _Moreton_ brook. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE CHASE - - "Hail, smiling morn, - That tips the hills with gold." - - -The merry sound of horns blowing the _reveillée_ greeted the sleepers as -they awoke, lazily, and saw the morning dawn shining through their -windows of horn, or stretched skin, or through the chinks of their -shutters in the chambers of Wallingford Castle, and in a very short -space of time the brief toilettes were performed, the hunting garb -donned, and the whole precincts swarmed with life, while the clamour of -dogs or of men filled the air. - -Soon the doughty Baron with his commanding voice stilled the tumult, as -he gave his orders for the day; the _déjeûner_ or breakfast of cold -meats, washed down with ale, mead, or wine, was next despatched, a -hunting Mass was said in "St. Nicholas his Chapel"--that is, a Mass -shorn of its due proportions and reduced within the reasonable compass -of a quarter of an hour--and before the hour of Prime (7 A.M.) the whole -train issued from the gates, Milo, Sheriff of Gloucester,[4] riding by -the side of his host. - -It was a bright, bracing morning that First of October, the air keen but -delicious--one of those days when we hardly regret the summer which has -left us and say we like autumn best; every one felt the pulses of life -beat the more healthily, as the hunting train rode up by the side of the -Moreton brook, towards distant Estune or East-town, as Aston was then -called. - -They were now approaching a densely-wooded district, for all that -portion of the "honour" of Wallingford which lay beneath the downs, was -filled with wood and marsh nourished by many slow and half stagnant -streams, or penetrated by swiftly running brooks which still follow the -same general course through the district in its cultivated state. - -At length they reached a wide open moor covered with gorse or heather; -gay and brilliant looked the train as it passed over the spot. The -hunters generally wore a garb familiar to some of us by pictorial -representations, a green hunting tunic girded by a belt with silver -clasps, a hunting knife in the girdle, a horn swung round the shoulder -dependent from the neck; but beneath this gay attire the great men wore -suits of chain mail, so flexible that it did not impede their movements -nor feel half so uncomfortable as some present suits of corduroy would -feel to a modern dandy. There were archers a few, there were also -spearmen who ran well and kept up with the mounted company at a steady -swinging trot, then there were fine-looking dogs of enormous size, and -of wondrous powers of strength and motion. The very thought of it is -enough to make the modern hunter sigh for the "good old times." - -Onward! onward! we fly, the moor is past, the hunting train turns to the -right and follows the course of the brook towards the park of Blidberia -(or Blewbery), the wood gets thicker and thicker; it is a tangled marsh, -and yet a forest; tall trees rise in endless variety, oaks that might -have borne mistletoes for the Druids; huge beeches with spreading -foliage, beneath which Tityrus might have reclined nor complained of -want of shade; willows rooted in water; decaying trunks of trees, -rotting in sullen pools of stagnant mire; yet, a clear, fresh spring -rushes along by the side of the track. - -And at intervals the outline of the Bearroc hills, the Berkshire downs, -rises above the forest, and solemnly in the distance looms the huge -tree-covered barrow, where Cwichelm, the last King of Wessex, sleeps his -long sleep while his subjugated descendants serve their Norman masters -in the country around his hill-tomb. - -And now a gallant stag is roused--a stag of ten branches. He scents the -dogs as the wind blows from them to him, he shakes the dewdrops from his -flanks, he listens one moment to the clamour of the noisy pack of canine -foes, he shakes his head disdainfully, and rushes on his headlong -course. The dogs bark and bay, the horns ring out, the voices of men and -boys, cheering and shouting as they spur their willing steeds, join the -discord. Hark! hark! Halloa! halloa! Whoop! whoop! and onward they fly. -The timid hares and rabbits rush away or seek their burrows. The hawks -and birds of prey fly wildly overhead in puzzled flight, as the wild -huntsmen rush along. - -But now the natural obstacles retard their flight, and the stag gains -the downs first, and speeds over the upper plains. A mile after him, the -hunt emerges just above the tangled maze of Blewbery. Now all is open -ground, and the stag heads for Cwichelm's Hlawe. - -Swiftly they sweep along; the footmen are left far behind. The wind is -blowing hard, and the shadows of fleecy clouds are cast upon the downs, -but the riders outstrip them, and leave the dark outlines behind them. -The leaves blow from many a fading tree, but faster rush the wild -huntsmen, and Brian Fitz-Count rides first. - -They have left the clump on Blewbery down behind: the sacred mound on -which St. Birinus once stood when he first preached the Gospel of Christ -to the old English folk of Wessex, is passed unheeded. When lo! they -cross a lateral valley and the stag stops to gaze, then as if mature -reflection teaches him the wood and tangled marsh are safer for him, -descends again to the lower ground. - -What a disappointment to be checked in such a gallant run, to leave the -springy turf and have again to seek the woods and abate their speed, and -what is worse, when they enter the forest they find all the dogs at -variance of purpose; a fox, their natural enemy, has crossed the track -but recently, and nearly all the pack are after him, while the rest -hesitate and rush wildly about. The huntsmen strive to restore order, -but meanwhile the stag has gained upon his pursuers. The poor hunted -beast, panting as though its heart would break, is safe for a while. - - -Let us use a tale-teller's privilege and guide the reader to another -scene. - -Not many furlongs from the spot where the hunters stopped perplexed, -stood a lonely cot in a green islet of ground, amidst the mazy windings -of a brook, which sprang from the hills and rising from the ground in -copious streams, inundated the marsh and gave protection to the dwellers -of this primæval habitation. - -It was a large cottage for that period, divided into three rooms, the -outer and larger one for living, the two inner and smaller for -bedchambers. Its construction was simple and not unlike those raised by -the dwellers in the wild parts of the earth now. Larches or pines, about -the thickness of a man's leg, had been cut down, shaped with an axe, -driven into the earth at the intervals of half a yard, willow-twigs had -been twined round them, the interstices had been filled with clay, cross -beams had been laid upon the level summits of the posts, a roof of bark -supported on lighter timber placed upon it, slightly shelving from the -ridge, and the outer fabric was complete. Then the inner partitions had -been made, partly with bark, partly with skins, stretched from post to -post; light doors swung on hinges of leather, small apertures covered -with semitransparent skin formed the windows, and a huge aperture in the -roof over a hearth, whereon rested a portable iron grate, served for -chimney. - -A table, roughly made, stood upon trestles, two or three seats, like -milking-stools, supplied the lack of chairs--such was the furniture of -the living room. - -Over the fire sat the occupants of the house--whom we must particularly -introduce to our readers. - -The first and most conspicuous was an old man, dressed mainly in -vestments of skin, but the one impression he produced upon the beholder -was "fallen greatness." Such a face, such noble features, withered and -wrinkled though they were by age; long masses of white hair, untouched -by barber or scissors, hung down his back, and a white wavy beard -reached almost to his waist. - -By his side, attentive to his every word, sat a youth of about sixteen -summers, and he was also worthy of notice--he seemed to combine the -characteristic features of the two races, Norman and English--we will -not use that misnomer "Saxon," our ancestors never called themselves by -other name than English after the Heptarchy was dissolved. His hair was -dark, his features shapely, but there was that one peculiarity of -feature which always gives a pathetic look to the face--large blue eyes -under dark eyebrows. - -The third person was evidently of lower rank than the others, although -this was not evident from any distinction of dress, for poverty had -obliterated all such tokens, but from the general manner, the look of -servitude, the air of submission which characterised one born of a race -of thralls. In truth she was the sole survivor of a race of hereditary -bondsmen, who had served the ancestors of him whom she now tended with -affectionate fidelity amidst poverty and old age. - -Let us listen to their conversation, and so introduce them to the -reader. - -"And so, grandfather," said the boy in a subdued voice of deep feeling, -"you saw him, your father, depart for the last time--the very last?" - -"I remember, as if it were but yesterday, when my father gathered his -churls and thralls[5] around him at our house at Kingestun under the -downs to the west: there were women and children, whose husbands and -fathers were going with him to join the army of Harold at London; they -were all on foot, for we had few knights in those days, but ere my -father mounted his favourite horse--'Whitefoot'--he lifted me in his -arms and kissed me. I was but five years old, and then he pressed my -mother to his bosom, she gave one sob but strove to stifle it, as the -wife of a warrior should. Then all tried to cry--'Long live Thurkill of -Kingestun.' - -"'Come, my men,' said my father, 'we shall beat these dainty Frenchmen, -as our countrymen have beaten the Danes at Stamford, so the 'bode' here -tells me. We go to fill the places of the gallant dead who fell around -our Harold in the hour of victory--let there be no faint hearts amongst -us, 'tis for home and hearth; good-bye, sweethearts,' and they rode -away. - -"They rode first to the Abbey town (Abingdon), and there made their vows -before the famous 'Black Cross' of that ancient shrine; then all bent -them for the long march to London town, where they arrived in time to -march southward with the hero king, the last English king, and -seventy-three years ago this very month of October the end came; blessed -were the dead who fell that awful day on the heights of Senlac, thrice -blessed--and cursed we who survived, to lose home, hearth, altar, and -all, and to beget a race of slaves." - -"Nay, not slaves, grandfather; thou hast never bent the knee." - -"Had I been ten years older, I had been at Senlac and died by my -father's side." - -"But your mother, you lived to comfort her." - -"Not long; when the news of our father's death came, she bore up for my -sake--but when our patrimony was taken by force, and we who had fought -for our true king were driven from our homes as rebels and traitors, to -herd with the beasts of the field; when our thralls became the bondsmen -of men of foreign tongues and hard hearts--her heart broke, and she -left me alone, after a few months of privation." - -"But you fought against the Norman." - -"I fought by the side of the last Englishman who fought at all, with -Hereward and his brave men at the 'Camp of Refuge'; and spent the prime -of my life a prisoner in the grim castle of the recreant Lords of -Wallingford." - -And he lifted up his eyes, suffused with tears, to heaven. - -"Why do you call the Lords of Wallingford Castle recreant?" - -"Because they were false to their country, in submitting to the Norman -invader. When the Conqueror came to Southwark, the brave men of the city -of London, guarded by their noble river and Roman walls, bade him -defiance. So he came up the south bank of the stream to Wallingford, -where the shire-reeve (the sheriff), Wigod, was ready, like a base -traitor, to receive him. There Wigod sumptuously entertained him, and -the vast mound which told of English victory in earlier days, became the -kernel of a Norman stronghold. The Conqueror gave the daughter of Wigod -in marriage to his particular friend, Robert d'Oyley, of Oxford Castle; -and when men afterwards saw men like Wigod of Wallingford and Edward of -Salisbury glutted with the spoils of Englishmen, better and braver than -themselves, they ate their bread in bitterness of spirit, and praised -the dead more than the living." - -Just then a rustling in the branches attracted their attention. - -"Oh, grandfather, there is a gallant stag! may I go and take him?--it -will replenish our larder for days. We have been so hungry." - -"It is death to kill the Baron's deer." - -"When he can catch us!--that!--for him," and the boy snapped his -fingers. - -"Hist! I hear the sound of hound and horn--be cautious, or we may get -into dire trouble." - -"Trust me, grandfather. Where are my arrows? Oh, here they are. Come, -Bruno." - -And a large wolf-hound bounded forth, eager as his young master. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[4] Sir Milo was Sheriff of Gloucester, and was afterwards created Earl -of Hereford by the Empress Maude. - -[5] Otherwise ceorls and theowes, tenant farmers and labourers, the -latter, bondsmen, "_adscripti glebæ_," bought with the land, but who -could not be sold apart from it. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -WHO STRUCK THE STAG? - - "It was a stag, a stag of ten, - Bearing his branches sturdily." - - -We left the grandson of the recluse setting forth in quest of the stag. - -Forth he and his dog bounded from the thick covert in which their -cottage was concealed, and emerging from the tall reeds which bordered -the brook, they stood beneath the shade of the mighty beech-trees, whose -trunks upbore the dense foliage, as pillars in the solemn aisles of -cathedrals support the superstructure; for the woods were God's first -temples, and the inhabitants of such regions drew from them the -inspiration from which sprang the various orders of Gothic architecture. - -Here Osric, for such was his name, paused and hid in a thicket of hazel, -for he spied the stag coming down the glade towards him, he restrained -the dog by the leash: and the two lay in ambush. - -The hunted creature, quite unsuspecting any new foes, came down the -glen, bearing his branches loftily, for doubtless he was elate, poor -beast, with the victory which his heels had given him over his human and -canine foes. And now he approached the ambush: the boy had fitted an -arrow to his bow but hesitated, it seemed almost a shame to lay so noble -an animal low; but hunger and want are stern masters, and men must eat -if they would live. - -Just then the creature snuffed the tainted air, an instant, and he would -have escaped; but the bow twanged, and the arrow buried itself in its -side, the stag bounded in the death agony towards the very thicket -whence the fatal dart had come; when Osric met it, and drawing his keen -hunting-knife across its throat, ended its struggles and its life -together. - -He had received a woodland education, and knew what to do; he soon -quartered the stag, whose blood the dog was lapping, and taking one of -the haunches on his shoulders, entered the tangled maze of reeds and -water wherein lay his island-home. - -"Here, grandfather, here is one of the haunches, what a capital fat one -it is! truly it will be a toothsome morsel for thee, and many tender -bits will there be to suit thy aged teeth; come, Judith, come and help -me hang it on the tree; then I will go and fetch the rest, joint by -joint." - -"But stop, Osric, what sound, what noise is that?" and the old man -listened attentively--then added-- - -"Huntsmen have driven that stag hitherwards, and are following on its -trail." - -The breeze brought the uproarious baying of dogs and cries of men down -the woods. It was at that moment, that, as stated in our last chapter, -the fox had crossed the track, and baffled them for the moment. - -Alas for poor Osric, only for the moment, for the huntsmen had succeeded -in getting some of the older and wiser hounds to take up the lost trail, -and the scent of their former enemy again greeting their olfactory -organs, they obeyed the new impulse--or rather the old one renewed, and -were off again after the deer. - -And as we see a flock of sheep, stopped by a fence, hesitating where to -go, until one finds a gap and all follow; so the various undecided dogs -agreed that venison was better than carrion, and the stag therefore a -nobler quarry than the fox; so, save a few misguided young puppies, they -resumed the legitimate chase. - -The huntsmen followed as fast as the trees and bushes allowed them, -until, after a mile or two, they all came to a sudden stand, where the -object of the chase had already met its death at the hands of Osric. - -Meanwhile the unhappy youth had heard them drawing nearer and nearer. He -knew that it would be impossible to escape discovery, unless the -intricacies of their retreat should baffle the hunters, whom they heard -drawing nearer and nearer. The dogs, they knew, would not pursue the -chase beyond the place of slaughter. Oh! if they had but time to mangle -it before the men arrived, so that the manner in which it had met its -death might not be discovered--but that was altogether unlikely. And in -truth clamorous human cries mingled with wild vociferous barkings, -howlings, bayings, and other canine clamour, showed that the hunt was -already assembled close by. - -"I will go forth and own the deed: then perhaps they will not inquire -further----" - -"Nay, my son, await God's Will here." - -And the old man restrained the youth. - -At length they heard such words as these-- - -"He cannot be far off." - -"He is hidden amongst the reeds." - -"Turn in the dogs." - -"They have tasted blood and are useless." - -"Fire the reeds." - -"Nay, grandfather, I must go, the reeds are dry, they will burn us all -together. They may show me mercy if I own it bravely." - -"Nay, they love their deer too well; they will hang thee on the nearest -beech." - -"Look! they have fired the reeds." - -"It may be our salvation: they cannot penetrate them when burning, and -see, if the smoke stifle us not, the fire will not reach us; there is -too much green and dank vegetation around the brook between us and the -reeds." - -"Ah! the wind blows it the other way; nay, it eddies--see that tongue of -flame darting amongst the dry fuel--now another: that thick smoke--there -it is changed to flame. Oh, grandfather, let us get off by the other -side--at once--at once." - -"Thou forgettest I am a cripple; but there may be time for you and -Judith to save yourselves." - -"Nay," said Osric, proudly, "we live or die together." - -"Judith will stay with her old master," said the poor thrall, "and with -her young lord too." - -They were yet "lords" in her eyes, bereft although they were of their -once vast possessions. - -"Perhaps we are as safe here; their patience will wear out before they -can penetrate the island. See, they are firing the reeds out yonder. -Normans love a conflagration," said the old man. - -In fact, it was as much with that inherent love of making a blaze, which -had marked the Normans and the Danes from the beginning, when church, -homestead, barn, and stack, were all kindled as the fierce invaders -swept through the land; that the mischievous and vindictive men-at-arms -had fired the reeds, wherein they thought the slayer of the deer had -taken refuge, when they found that the dogs would not enter after him. -There was little fear of any further harm than the clearing of a few -acres. The trees were too damp to burn, or indeed to take much harm from -so hasty and brief a blaze: so they thought, if they thought at all. - -But the season had been dry, the material was as tinder, and the blaze -reached alarming proportions--several wild animals ran out, and were -slain by the bystanders, others were heard squeaking miserably in the -flames; but that little affected the hardened folk of the time, they had -to learn mercy towards men, before the time came to start a society for -the prevention of cruelty to animals. - -"He cannot be there or he would have run out by this time." - -"He has escaped the other side." - -"Nay, Alain and his men have gone round there to look out." - -"But they cannot cross the brook on foot, and even a horse would get -stuck in the mire." - -"They will do their best." - -The three in the cottage saw the flames rise and crackle all round them, -and the dense clouds of smoke were stifling. Osric got water from the -brook and dashed it all over the roof and the more inflammable portions -of their dwelling, lest a spark should kindle them, and worked hard at -his self-imposed task, in the intense heat. - -But the conflagration subsided almost as rapidly as it arose from sheer -want of fuel, and with the cessation of the flames came the renewal of -the danger of discovery. - -Other voices were now heard, one loud and stern as befitted a leader:-- - -"What meaneth this? Who hath kindled the reeds without my order?" - -"The deer-slayer lurketh within." - -"What deer-slayer? Who struck the stag?" - -"We know not. It could not have been many minutes before we arrived; the -carcase was still warm." - -"He must be caught; thou shalt not suffer a poacher to live, is the -royal command, and mine too; but did you not set the dogs after him?" - -"They had tasted blood, my lord." - -"But if he were hidden herein, he must have come forth. If the bed of -reeds were properly encircled--it seems to cover some roods of forest." - -"A shame for so fine a beast to be so foully murdered." - -"It was a stag of ten branches." - -"And he gave us good sport." - -"We will hang his slayer in his honour." - -"A fine acorn for a lusty oak." - -"When we catch him." - -"He shall dance on nothing, and we will amuse ourselves by his -grimaces." - -"Nothing more laughable than the face a _pendu_ makes with the rope -round his neck." - -"Has anybody got a rope?" - -"Has anybody found the poacher?" - -A general laugh. - -"Silence, listen." - -A dry old oak which had perhaps seen the Druids, and felt the keen knife -bare its bosom of the hallowed mistletoe, had kindled and fallen; as it -fell sending forth showers upon showers of sparks. - -The fall of the tree opened a sort of vista in the flames, and -revealed---- - -"Look," said the Baron, "I see something like the roof of a hut just -beyond the opening the tree has made." - -"I think so too," said Sir Milo of Gloucester. - -"Very well, wait here awhile, my men; these reeds are all burnt, and the -ground will soon cool, then you may go in and see what that hut -contains: reserve them for my judgment. Here, Tristam, here, Raoul, hold -our horses." - -Two sprightly-looking boy pages took the reins, and Brian and Milo, if -we may presume to call them by such familiar appellations, walked -together in the glade. - -Deep were their cogitations, and how much the welfare of England -depended upon them, would hardly be believed by our readers. We would -fain reveal what they said, but only the half can be told. - -"It can be endured no longer!" - -"Soon no one but he will be allowed to build a castle!" - -"But to lay hands upon two anointed prelates." - -"The Bishops of Sarum and Lincoln." - -"Arrested just when they were trusting to his good faith." - -"The one in the king's own ante-chamber, the other in his lodgings -eating his dinner." - -"The Bishop of Ely only escaped by the skin of his teeth." - -"And he, too, was forced to surrender his castle, for the king vowed -that the Bishop of Salisbury should have no food until his nephew of -Ely surrendered, and led poor Roger, pale and emaciated, stretching -forth his skinny hands, and entreating his nephew to save him from -starvation, to and fro before the walls, until he gained his ends, and -the castle was yielded." - -"He is not our true king, but a foul usurper." - -"Well, my good cousin, a few hours may bring us news. But, listen; can -our folk have caught the deer-slayers? let us return to them." - -In the absence of their leaders, the men-at-arms, confiding in the -goodness of their boots and leggings, had trodden across the smoking -soil in the direction where their leader had pointed out the roof of a -hut amidst leafy trees, and had quickly discovered their victims, -crossed the brook, and surrounded the house. - -"Come forth, Osric, my son," said the old man, "whatever befalls, let us -not disgrace our ancestry; let nothing become us in life more than the -mode of leaving it, if die we must." - -"But must we die? what have we done?" - -"Broken their tyrannical laws. Judith, open the door." - -A loud shout greeted the appearance of the old man, his beard descending -to his waist, as he issued forth, leading Osric by the hand. - -"What seek ye, Normans? wherefore have ye surrounded my humble home, -whither tyranny has driven me?" - -A loud shout of exultation. - -"The deer--give up the deer--confess thy guilt." - -"Search for it"--"a haunch was gone"--"if in the house, we need no -further trial"--"to the nearest tree." - -The house was rudely entered--but the haunch, which had been removed -from the tree and hidden by Judith, could not be found. - -"Ye have no proof that we have offended." - -They searched a long while in vain, they opened cupboard and chest, but -no haunch appeared. - -"Examine them by torture: try the knotted cord." - -"One should never go out without thumbscrews in this vile country; they -would fit that young poacher's thumbs well." - -Just then the Baron was seen returning from his stroll with his guest. - -"Bring them to the Baron! bring them to the Baron!" - -"And meanwhile fire the house." - -"Nay, not till we have orders; our master is stern and strict." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -IN THE GREENWOOD - - "What shall he have who killed the deer?" - - -The return of Brian Fitz-Count and his companion from their stroll in -the woods probably saved our aged friend Sexwulf and his grandson from -much rough treatment, for although in the presence of express orders -from their dread lord, the men-at-arms would not attempt aught against -the _life_ of their prisoners, yet they might have offered any violence -and rudeness short of that last extremity, in their desire to possess -proof of the slaughter of the deer. - -Poor beast, the cause of so much strife: it had behoved him to die -amongst the fangs of the hounds, and he had been foully murdered by -arrow and knife! It was not to be endured. - -But no sooner did the Baron return, than the scene was changed. - -"What means this clamour? Shut your mouths, ye hounds! and bring the -deer-slayers before me; one would think Hell had broken loose amongst -you." - -He sat deliberately down on the trunk of a fallen tree, and called Milo -to be his assessor (_amicus curiæ_), as one might have said. - -A circle was immediately formed, and the old man and boy, their arms -tied behind them, were placed before their judge. - -He looked them sternly in the face, as if he would read their hearts. - -"Whose serfs are ye?" - -"We were never in bondage to any man." - -"It is a lie--all Englishmen are in serfdom." - -"Time will deliver them." - -"Do you dare to bandy words with me; if so, a short shrift and a long -halter will suffice: you are within my jurisdiction, and your lives are -as much in my power as those of my hounds." - -This was not said of hot temper, but bred of that cool contempt which -the foreign lords felt for the conquered race with which, nevertheless, -they were destined to amalgamate. - -"Your names?" - -"Sexwulf, son of Thurkill, formerly thane of Kingestun." - -"Whose father fell in the fight at Senlac (Hastings), by the side of the -perjured Harold; and is this thy son? brought up doubtless to be a rebel -like thyself." - -"He is my grandson." - -"And how hast thou lived here, so long unknown, in my woods?" - -"The pathless morass concealed us." - -"And how hast thou lived? I need not ask, on my red deer doubtless." - -"No proof has been found against us," said the old man, speaking with -that meek firmness which seemed to impress his questioner. - -"And now, what hast thou done with the haunch of this deer?" - -"I have not slain one." - -"But the boy may have done so--come, old man, thou lookest like one who -would not lie even to save his neck; now if thou wilt assure me, on the -faith of a Christian, and swear by the black cross of Abingdon that thou -knowest nought of the deer, I will believe thee." - -A pause--but Brian foresaw the result of his appeal. - -"I cannot," said the captive at length; "I did not slay it, yet if, -according to your cruel laws, a man must die for a deer: I refuse not to -die--I am weary of the world." - -"Nay, the father shall not bear the iniquity of the son; that were -contrary to Scripture and to all sound law." - -"Grandfather, thou shalt not die," interrupted the boy; "Baron, it was -I; but must I die for it? we were so hungry." - -"Oh my lord, crush not the young life in the springtime of youth. God -has taken all my children in turn from me, He has deprived me of home -and kin: but He is just. He has left this boy to comfort my old age: -take not away the light of the old man's eyes. See I, who never asked -favour of Norman or foreign lord before, bow my knees to thee; let the -boy live, or if not, let both die together." - -"One life is enough for _one_ deer." - -"Nay, then let me die." - -"Who slew the deer?" - -"I, my lord, and I must die, not my grandfather." - -"It was for me, and I must die, as the primal cause of the deed," said -the old man. - -"By the teeth of St. Peter, I never saw two thralls contending for the -honour of a rope before," said Milo. - -"Nor I, but they have taken the right way to escape. Had they shown -cowardice, I should have felt small pity, but courage and self-devotion -ever find a soft place in my heart; besides, there is something about -this boy which interests me more than I can account for. Old man, tell -the truth, as thou hopest for the life of the boy. Is he really thy -grandson?" - -"He is the son of my daughter, now with the Saints." - -"And who was his sire?" - -"An oppressed Englishman." - -"Doubtless: you all think yourselves oppressed, as my oxen may, because -they are forced to draw the plough, but the boy has the face of men of -better blood, and I should have said there was a cross in the breed: but -hearken! Malebouche, cut their bonds, take a party of six, escort them -to the castle, place them in the third story of the North Tower, give -them food and drink, but let none have access to them till I return." - -Further colloquy was useless; the Baron spoke like a man whose mind was -made up, and his vassals had no choice but to obey. - -Therefore the party broke up, the rest of the train to seek another -stag, if they could find one, but Brian called the Sheriff of Gloucester -aside. - -They stood in a glade of the forest near a tree blown down by the wind, -where they could see the downs beyond. - -"Dost see that barrow, Sir Milo?" - -"I do." - -"It is called Cwichelm's Hlawe; there an old king of these English was -buried; they say he walks by night." - -"A likely place." - -"Well, I have a curiosity to test the fact, moreover the hill commands a -view unrivalled in extent in our country; I shall ride thither." - -"In search of ghosts and night scenery, the view will be limited in -darkness." - -"But beacon fires will show best in the dark." - -"I comprehend; shall I share thy ride?" - -"Nay, my friend, my mind is ill at rest, I want solitude. Return with -the hunting train and await my arrival at the castle; and the Baron -beckoned to his handsome young page Alain, to lead the horse to him. - -"Well, Alain, what didst thou think of the young Englishman? He -confronted death gallantly enough." - -"He is only half an Englishman; I am sure he has Norman blood, _noblesse -oblige_," replied the boy, who was a spoiled pet of his stern lord, -stern to others. - -"Well, the old man feared the cord as little." - -"He has not much life left to beg for: one foot in the grave already." - -"How wouldst thou like that boy for a fellow-page?" - -"Not at all, my lord." - -"And why not?" - -"Because I would like my companions to be of known lineage and of -gentle blood on both sides." - -"The great Conqueror himself was not." - -"And hence many despised him." - -"They did not dare tell him so." - -"Then they were cowards, my lord; I hope my tongue shall never conceal -what my heart feels." - -"My boy, if thou crowest so loudly, I fear thou wilt have a short life." - -"I can make my hands keep my head, at least against my equals." - -"Art thou sorry I pardoned the lad then?" - -"No, I like not to see the brave suffer; had he been a coward I should -have liked the sport fairly well." - -"Sport?" - -"It is so comical to see deer-stealers dance on nothing, and it serves -them right." - -Now, do not let my readers think young Alain unnatural, he was of his -period; pity had small place, and the low value set on life made boys -and even men often see the ridiculous side of a tragedy, and laugh when -they should have wept: yet courage often touched their sympathies, when -entreaty would have failed. - -But the Lord of Wallingford was in a gentle frame of mind, uncommon in -him: he had not merely been touched by the strife, which of the two -should die, between the ill-assorted pair, but there had been something -in every tone and gesture of the boy which had awakened strange sympathy -in his heart, and the sensation was so unprecedented, that Brian longed -for solitude to analyse it. - -In truth, the prisoners had not been in great danger, for although their -judge was pleased to try their courage, he had not the faintest -intention of proceeding to any extremities with either grandsire or -grandson--not at least after he had heard the voice of the boy. - -The party broke up, the Baron rode on alone towards the heights, the -sheriff, attended by young Alain, returned down the course of the -stream towards the castle. The rest separated into divers bands, some to -hunt for deer or smaller game, so as not to return home with empty -hands, to the great wrath of the cooks and others also. Malebouche with -six archers escorted the prisoners. They rode upon one steed, the boy in -front of his sire. - -"Old man, what is the stripling's name?" - -"Osric." - -"And you will not tell who his sire was?" - -"If I would not tell your dread lord, I am not likely to tell thee." - -"Because I have a _guess_: a mere suspicion." - -"'Thoughts are free;' it will soon be shown whether it be more." - -"Which wouldst thou soonest be in thy heart, boy, English or Norman?" - -"English," said the boy firmly. - -"Thou preferrest then the deer to the lion?" - -"I prefer to be the oppressed rather than the oppressor." - -"Well, well, each man to his taste, but I would sooner be the wolf who -eats, than the sheep which is eaten; of the two sensations I prefer the -former. Now dost thou see that proud tower soaring into the skies down -the brook? it is the keep of Wallingford Castle. Stronger hold is not in -the Midlands." - -"I have been there before," said old Sexwulf. - -"Not in my time." - - -Our readers may almost have forgotten the existence of the poor thrall -Judith during the exciting scene we have narrated. - -She loved her masters, young and old, deeply loved them did this -hereditary slave, and her anxiety had been extreme during the period of -their danger: she skipped in and out of the hut, for no one thought her -worth molesting, she peered through the bushes, she acted like a hen -partridge whose young are in danger, and when they bound Osric, -actually flew at the men-at-arms, but they thrust her so roughly aside -that she fell; little recked they. An English thrall, were she wife, -mother, or daughter, was naught in their estimation. - -Yet she did not feel the same anxiety in one respect, which Sexwulf -felt. "I can save him yet," she muttered; "they shall never put a rope -around his bonnie neck, not even if I have to betray the secret I have -kept since his infancy." - -So she listened close at hand. Once or twice she seemed on the point of -thrusting herself forward, when the fate of her dear boy seemed to hang -in the balance, but restrained herself. - -"I promised," she said, "I promised, and _he_ will grieve to learn that -I was faithless to my word. The old woman has a soul, aged crone though -she be: and I swore by the black cross of Abingdon. Yet black cross or -white one, I would risk the claws of Satan, sooner than allow the rope -to touch his neck: bad enough that it should encircle his fair wrists." - -When at last the suspense was over, and the grandsire and grandson were -ordered to be taken as prisoners to the castle, she seemed content. - -"I must see him," she said, "and tell him what has chanced: he will know -what to do." - -Just then she heard a voice which startled her. - -"Shall we burn the hut, my lord?" - -A moment of suspense: then came the stern reply. - -"He that doth so shall hang from the nearest oak." - -She chuckled. - -"The spell already works," she said; "I may return to the shelter which -has been mine so long. He will not harm them." - -The time of the separation of the foe had now come; the Baron rode off -to his midnight watch on Cwichelm; Malebouche conducted the two captives -along the road to the distant keep; the others, men and dogs, circulated -right and left in the woods. - -The woods and reeds were still smoking, the atmosphere was dense and -murky, as Judith returned to the hut. - -She sat by the fire which still smoked on the hearth, and rocked herself -to and fro, and as she sat she sang in an old cracked voice-- - - - "They sought my bower one murky night, - They burnt my bower, they slew my knight; - My servants all for life did flee, - And left me in extremitie: - But vengeance yet shall have its way, - When shall the son the sire betray?" - - -The last line was very enigmatical, like a Delphic response; perhaps our -tale may solve it. - -Then at last she arose, and going to a corner of the hut, opened a chest -filled with poor coarse articles of female attire, such as a slave might -wear, but at the bottom wrapped in musty parchment was something of -greater value. - -It was a ring with a seal, and a few articles of baby attire, a little -red shoe, a small frock, and a lock of maiden's hair. - -She kissed the latter again and again, ere she looked once more at the -ring: it bore a crest upon a stone of opal, and she laughed weirdly. - -The crest was the crest of Brian Fitz-Count. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -CWICHELM'S HLAWE - - -It was a wild and lonely spot, eight hundred feet above sea level, the -highest ground of the central downs of Berkshire, looking northward over -a vast expanse of fertile country, as yet but partially tilled, and -mainly covered with forest. - -A tumulus or barrow of huge dimensions arose on the summit, no less than -one hundred and forty yards in circumference, and at that period some -fifty feet in height; it had been raised five hundred years earlier in -the history of the country over the remains of the Saxon King Cwichelm, -son of Cynegils, and grandson of Ceol, who dwelt in the Isle of Ceol--or -Ceolseye--and left his name to Cholsey. - -A wood of firs surrounded the solemn mound, which, however, dominated -them in height; the night wind was sighing dreamily over them, the -heavens were alternately light and dark as the aforesaid wind made rifts -in the cloud canopy and closed them again--ever and anon revealing the -moon wading amidst, or rather beyond, the masses of vapour. - -An aged crone stood on the summit of the mound clad in long flowing -garments of coarse texture, bound around the waist with a girdle of -leather; her hair, white as snow, streamed on the wind. She supported -her strength by an ebony staff chased with Runic figures. Any one who -gazed might perchance have thought her a sorceress, or at least a seer -of old times raised again into life. - -"Ah, he comes!" - -Over the swelling ridges of the downs she saw a horseman approaching; -heard before she saw, for the night was murky. - -The horseman dismounted in the wood, tied his horse to a tree, left it -with a huge boar-hound, as a guard, and penetrating the wood, ascended -the mound. - -"Thou art here, mother: the hour is come; it is the first day of the -vine-month, as your sires called it." - -"Yes, the hour is come, the stars do not lie, nor did the mighty dead -deceive me." - -"The dead; call them not, whilst I am here." - -"Dost thou fear them? We must all share their state some day." - -"I would sooner, far sooner, not anticipate the time." - -"Yet thou hast sent many, and must send many more, to join them." - -"It is the fortune of war; I have had Masses said for their souls. It -might have chanced to me." - -"Ha! ha! so thou wouldst not slay soul and body both?" - -"God forbid." - -"Well, once I believed in Priest and Mass--I, whom they call the witch -of 'Cwichelm's Hlawe': now I prefer the gods of war, of storm, and of -death; Woden, Thor, and Teu; nay, even Hela of horrid aspect." - -"Avaunt thee, witch! wouldst worship Satan!" - -"Since God helped me not: listen, Brian Fitz-Count. I, the weird woman -of the haunted barrow, was once a Christian, and a nun." - -"A nun!" - -"Yea, and verily. A few of us had a little cell, a dozen were we in -number, and we lived under the patronage--a poor reed to lean on we -found it--of St. Etheldreda.[6] Now a stern Norman like thyself came -into those parts after the conquest; he had relations abroad who 'served -God' after another rule; he craved our little home for them; he drove -us out to perish in the coldest winter I remember. The abbess, clinging -to her home and refusing to go, was slain by the sword: two or three -others died of cold; we sought shelter in vain, the distress was -everywhere. I roamed hither--I was born at the village of Hendred -below--my friends were dead and gone, my father had followed Thurkill of -Kingestun, and been killed at Senlac. My mother, in consequence, had -been turned out of doors by the new Norman lord, and none ever learned -what became of her, my sweet mother! my brothers had become outlaws; my -sisters--well, I need tell thee no more. I lost faith in the religion, -in the name of which, and under the sanction of whose chief teacher, the -old man who sits at Rome, the thing had been done. They say I went mad. -I know I came here, and that the dead came and spoke with me, and I -learned mysteries of which Christians dream not, yet which are true for -good or ill." - -"And by their aid thou hast summoned me here, but I marvel thou hast not -perished as a witch amidst fire and faggot." - -"They protect me!" - -"Who are they?" - -"Never mind; that is my secret." - -"Thou didst tell me that if I came to-night I should see the -long-expected signal to arm my merrie men, and do battle for our winsome -ladie." - -"Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war. Well, I told thee truly: the -hour is nigh, wait and watch with me; fix thine eyes on the south." - -Dim and misty the outlines of the hills looked in that uncertain -gloaming; here and there a light gleamed from some peasant's hut, for -the hour of eight had not yet struck, when, according to the curfew law, -light and fire had to be extinguished. But our lone watchers saw them -all disappear at last, and still the light they looked for shone not -forth. - -"Why does not the bale-fire blaze?" - -"Baleful shall its influence be." - -"Woman, one more question I have. Thou knowest my family woes, that I -have neither kith nor kin to succeed me, no gallant boy for whom to win -honour: two have I had, but they are dead to the world." - -"The living death of leprosy." - -"And one--not indeed the lawful child of my spouse--was snatched from me -in tender infancy; one whom I destined for my heir: for why should that -bar-sinister which the Conqueror bore sully the poor child. Thou -rememberest?" - -"Thou didst seek me in the hour of thy distress, and I told thee the -child lived." - -"Does it yet live? tell me." And the strong man trembled with eagerness -and emotion as he looked her eagerly in the face. - -"They have not told me; I know not." - -"Methinks I saw him to-day." - -"Where?" - -"In the person of a peasant lad--the grandson of an old man, who has -lived, unknown, in my forest, and slain my deer." - -"And didst thou hang him, according to thy wont?" - -"No, for he was brave, and something in the boy's look troubled me, and -reminded me of her I once called my 'Aimèe.' She was English, but -Eadgyth was hard to pronounce, so I called her 'Aimèe.'" - -"Were there any marks by which you could identify your boy? Pity such a -race should cease." - -"I remember none. And the grandfather claims the lad as his own. Tell -me, is he mine?" - -"I know not, but there is a way in which thou canst inquire." - -"How?" - -"Hast thou courage?" - -"None ever questioned it and lived." - -"But many could face the living, although girt in triple mail, who fear -the dead." - -"I am distracted with hope." - -"And thou canst face the shrouded dead?" - -"I would dare their terrors." - -"Sleep here, then, to-night." - -"Where?" - -"In a place which I will show thee, ha! ha!" - -"Is it near?" - -"Beneath thy feet." - -"Beneath my feet?" - -"It is the sepulchre of the royal dead." - -"Of Cwichelm?" - -"Even he." - -"May I see it? the bale-fire blazes not, and it is cold waiting here." - -"Come." - -"Lead on, I follow." - -She descended the sloping sides of the mound, he followed. At the base, -amidst nettles and briars, was a rude but massive door. She drew forth a -heavy key and opened it. She passed along a narrow passage undeterred by -a singular earthy odour oppressive to the senses, and the Baron followed -until he stood by her side, in a chamber excavated in the very core of -the huge mound. - -There, in the centre, was a large stone coffin, and within lay a giant -skeleton. - -"It is he, who was king of this land." - -"Cwichelm, son of Ceol, who dwelt in the spot they now call Ceolseye." - -"And the son of the Christian King of Wessex--they mingled Christian and -Pagan rites when they buried him here. See his bow and spear." - -"But who burrowed this passage? Surely they left it not who buried him?" - -"Listen, and your ears shall drink in no lies. Folk said that his royal -ghost protected this spot, and that if the heathen Danes came where the -first Christian king lay, guarding the land, even in death, they should -see the sea no more. Now, in the Christmas of the year 1006, aided by a -foul traitor, Edric Streorn, they left the Isle of Wight, where they -were wintering, and travelling swiftly, burst upon the ill-fated, -unwarned folk of this land, on the very day of the Nativity, for Edric -had removed the guardians of the beacon fires.[7] They burnt Reading; -they burnt Cholsey, with its church and priory; they burned Wallingford; -they slew all they met, and left not man or beast alive whom they could -reach, save a few most unhappy captives, whom they brought here after -they had burned Wallingford, for here they determined to abide as a -daring boast, having heard of the prophecy, and despising it. And here -they revelled after the fashion of fiends for nine days and nights. Each -day they put to death nine miserable captives with the torture of the -Rista Eorn, and so they had their fill of wine and blood. And as they -had heard that treasures were buried with Cwichelm, they excavated this -passage. Folk said that they were seized with an awful dread, which -prevented their touching his bones or further disturbing his repose. At -length they departed, and each year since men have seen the ghosts of -their victims gibbering in the moonlight between Christmas and Twelfth -Day." - -"Hast thou?" - -"Often, but covet not the sight; it freezes the very marrow in the -bones. Only beware that thou imitate not these Danes in their -wickedness." - -"I?" - -"Yes, even thou." - -"Am I a heathen dog?" - -"What thou art I know, what thou wilt become I think I trow. But peace: -wouldst thou invoke the dead king to learn thy future path? I can raise -him." - -Brian Fitz-Count was a brave man, but he shuddered. - -"Another time; besides, mother, the bale-fire may be blazing even now!" - -"Come and see, then. I foresee thou wilt return in time of sore need." - -They reached the summit of the mound. The change to the open air was -most refreshing. - -"Ah! the bale-fire!!" - -Over the rolling wastes, far to the south, arose the mountainous range -now called Highclere. It was but faintly visible in the daytime, and -under the uncertain moonlight, only those familiar with the locality -could recognise its position. The central peak was now tipped with fire, -crowned with a bright flickering spot of light. - -And while they looked, Lowbury caught the blaze, and its beacon fire -glowed in the huge grating which surmounted the tower, whose foundations -may yet be traced. From thence, Synodune took up the tale and told it to -the ancient city of Dorchester, whose monks looked up from cloistered -hall and shuddered. The heights of Nettlebed carried forward the fiery -signal, and blazing like a comet, told the good burgesses of Henley and -Reading that evil days were at hand. The Beacon Hill, above Shirburne -Castle, next told the lord of that baronial pile that he might buckle on -his armour, and six counties saw the blaze on that beacon height. -Faringdon Clump, the home of the Ffaringas of old, next told the news to -the distant Cotswolds and the dwellers around ancient Corinium; and soon -Painswick Beacon passed the tidings over the Severn to the old town of -Gloucester, whence Milo came, and far beyond to the black mountains of -Wales. The White Horse alarmed Wiltshire, and many a lover of peace -shook his head and thought of wife and children, although but few knew -what it all meant, namely, that the Empress Maud, the daughter of the -Beauclerc, had come to claim her father's crown, which Stephen, thinking -it right to realise the prophecy contained in his name,[8] had put on -his own head. - -And from Cwichelm's Hlawe the curious ill-assorted couple we have -portrayed beheld the war beacons' blaze. - -She lost all her self-possession, she became entranced; her hair -streamed behind her in the wind; she stretched out her aged arms to the -south and sang--did that crone of ninety years-- - - - "Come hither, fatal cloud of death, - O'er England breathe thy hateful breath; - Breathe o'er castles, churches, towns, - Brood o'er flat plain, and cloud-flecked downs, - Until the streams run red with gore, - From eastern sea to western shore. - Let mercy frighted haste away, - Let peace and love no longer stay, - Let justice outraged swoon away, - But let revenge and bitter hate - Alone control the nation's fate; - Let fell discord the chorus swell, - Let every hold become a hell---- - Let----" - - -"Nay, nay, mother, enough! Thou ravest. Every hold a hell! not at least -Wallingford Castle!" - -"That worst of all, Brian Fitz-Count. There are possibilities of evil in -thee, which might make Satan laugh! Thy sword shall make women -childless, thy torch light up----" - -"Nay, nay, no more, I must away. My men will go mad when they see these -fires. I must home, to control, advise, direct." - -"Go, and the powers of evil be with thee. Work out thy curse and thy -doom, since so it must be!" - -FOOTNOTES: - -[6] See a similar instance in Thierry's _Norman Conquest_, vol. i. - -[7] I have told the story of this Danish invasion in _Alfgar the Dane_. - -[8] "Stephanus" signifies "a crown." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -ON THE DOWNS - - -We fear that Brian Fitz-Count must have sunk in the reader's estimation. -After the perusal of the last chapter, it is difficult to understand how -a doughty warrior and belted knight could so demean himself as to take -an old demented woman into his consultations, and come to her for -guidance. - -Let us briefly review the phases of mind through which he had passed, -and see whether we can find any rational explanation of his condition. - -The one great desire of Brian's life was to have a son to whom he could -bequeath his vast possessions, and his reflected glory. Life was short, -but if he could live, as it were, in the persons of his descendants, it -seemed as if death would be more tolerable. God heard his prayer. He had -two sons, fine lads, by his Countess, and awhile he rejoiced in them, -but the awful scourge of leprosy made its appearance in his halls. For a -long time he would not credit the reality of the infliction, and was -with difficulty restrained from knocking down the physician who first -announced the fact. By degrees the conviction was forced upon him, and -the law of the time--the unwritten law especially--forced him to consign -them to a house of mercy for lepers, situated near Byfield in -Northamptonshire. Poor boys, they wept sore, for they were old enough to -share their father's craving for glory and distinction; but they were -torn away and sent to this living tomb, for in the eyes of all men it -was little better. - -Brian wearied Heaven with prayers; he had Masses innumerable said on -their behalf; he gave alms to all the churches of Wallingford for the -poor; he made benefactions to Reading Abbey and the neighbouring -religious houses; he helped to enrich the newly-built church of Cholsey, -built upon the ruins of the edifice the Danes had burnt. But still -Heaven was obdurate, the boys did not recover, and he had to part with -the delight of his eyes. - -And then ensued a sudden collapse of faith. He ceased to pray. God heard -not prayer: perhaps there was no God; and he ceased from his good deeds, -gave no alms, neglected Divine service, and became a sceptic in -heart--secretly, however, for whatever a man might think in his heart in -those days of ecclesiastical power, the doughtiest baron would hesitate -to avow scepticism; men would condone, as, alas, many do now, an -irreligious life, full of deeds of evil, if only the evil-doer -_professed_ to believe in the dominant Creed. - -When a man ceases to believe in God, he generally comes to believe in -the Devil. Men must have a belief of some sort; so in our day, men who -find Christianity too difficult, take to table turning, and like -phenomena, and practise necromancy of a mild description. - -So it was then. Ceasing to believe in God, Brian Fitz-Count believed in -witches. - -The intense hatred of witchcraft, begotten of dread, which kindled the -blazing funeral pyres of myriads of people, both guilty--at least in -intention--and innocent of the black art, had not yet attained its -height. - -Pope Innocent had not yet pronounced his fatal decree. The witch -inquisitors had not yet started on their peregrinations, Hopkins had yet -to be born, and so the poor crazed nun who had done no one any harm, -whom wise men thought mad, and foolish ones inspired, was allowed to -burrow at Cwichelm's Hlawe. - -And many folk resorted to her, to make inquiries about lost property, -lost kinsfolk, the present and the future. Amongst others, a seneschal -of Wallingford, who had lost a valuable signet ring belonging to his -lord. - -"On your return to the castle seize by the throat the first man you meet -after you pass the portals. He will have the ring." - -And the first man the seneschal met was a menial employed to sweep and -scour the halls; him without fear he seized by the throat. "Give me the -ring thou hast found," and lo, the affrighted servitor, trembling, drew -it forth and restored it. - -Brian heard of the matter; it penetrated through the castle. He gave -orders to hang the servitor, but the poor wretch took sanctuary in time; -and then he rode over to Cwichelm's Hlawe himself. - -What was his object? - -To inquire after his progeny. - -One son, a beautiful boy, had escaped the fatal curse, but it was not -the child of his wife. Brian had loved a fair English girl, whom he had -wooed rather by violence than love. He carried her away from her home, a -thing too common in those lawless days to excite much comment. She died -in giving birth to a fair boy, and was buried in the adjacent graveyard. - -After he lost his other two children by leprosy, Brian became devoted to -this child; the reader has heard how he lost him. - -And to inquire whether, perchance, the child, whose body had never been -found, yet lived, Brian first rode to Cwichelm's Hlawe. - -"Have I given the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?" was his -bitter cry. "Doth the child yet live?" - -The supposed sorceress, after incantations dire, intended to impress the -mind, replied in the affirmative. - -"But where?" - -"Beware; the day when thou dost regain him it will be the bitterest of -thy life." - -"But where shall he be found?" - -"That the dead have not told me." - -"But they may tell." - -"I know not, but thou shalt see him again in the flesh. Come again in -the vine-month, when the clouds of war and rapine shall begin to gather -over England once more, and I will tell thee all I shall have learned." - -"The clouds of war and rapine?" - -"Yes, Brian Fitz-Count. Dost thou, the sworn ally of the banished -Empress, mistake my words?" - -And we have seen the result of that last interview--in the second visit. - - * * * * * - -When Brian rode from the barrow--out on the open downs--he gazed upon -the beacons which yet blazed, and sometimes shouted with exultation, for -like a war-horse he sniffed the coming battle, and shouted ha! ha! He -gave his horse the reins and galloped along the breezy ridge--following -the Icknield way--his hound behind him. - -And then he saw another horseman approaching from the opposite -direction, just leaving the Blewbery down. In those days when men met it -was as when in a tropical sea, in days happily gone by, sailors saw a -strange sail: the probability was that it was an enemy. - -Still Brian feared not man, neither God nor man, and only loosing his -sword in its sheath, he rode proudly to the _rencontre_. - -"What ho! stranger! who? and whence?" - -"Thy enemy from the grave, whither thou hast sent my kith and kin." - -"Satan take thee; when did I slay them? If I did, must I send thee to -rejoin them?" - -"Try, and God defend the right. Here on this lonely moor, we meet face -to face. Defend thyself." - -"Ah! I guess who thou art: an outlaw!" - -"One whom thou didst make homeless." - -"Ah! I see, Wulfnoth of Compton. Tell me, thou English boar, what thou -didst with my child." - -"And if I slew him, as thou didst mine, what then?" - -A mighty blow was the reply, and the two drawing their swords, fell to -work--the deadly work. - -And by their sides a canine battle took place, a wolf-hound, which -accompanied the stranger, engaged the boar-hound of the Baron. - -Oh! how they strove; how blow followed blow; how the horses seemed to -join in the conflict, and tried to bite and kick each other with their -rampant fore-feet; how the blades crashed; how thrust, cut, and parry, -succeeded each other. - -But Norman skill prevailed over English strength, and the Englishman -fell prone to the ground, with a frightful wound on the right shoulder, -while his horse galloped round and round in circles. - -And meanwhile the opposite result took place in the struggle between the -quadrupeds: the wolf-hound had slain the boar-hound. Brian would fain -have avenged his favourite, but the victor avoided his pursuit, and bow -and arrows had he none, nor missile of any kind, for he had accidentally -left his hunting spear behind. - -He looked at his foe who lay stretched on the turf, bleeding profusely. -Then dismounting, he asked sternly-- - -"Say what thou didst with my boy!" - -"Strike; thou shalt never know." - -And Brian would have struck, but his opponent fell back senseless, and -he could not strike him in that condition: something restrained his -hand. - -"Poor Bruno," he said, as he gave his gallant hound one sigh. "Less -fortunate than thy lord; that mongrel cur hath slain thee: but I may not -stay to waste tears over thee," and remounting, he rode away unscathed -from the struggle, leaving the horse of the vanquished one to roam the -downs. - -And as he rode, his thoughts were again on his lost child, and on the -boy whom he had seen on the previous day, and sent before him in -durance. Was it possible this was his son? Nay, the old man, who would -not lie to save his life, had affirmed the contrary. Still he would make -further inquiries, and keep the lad in sight, if not assured of his -birth and parentage. - -A thought struck him: should he threaten the torture to the aged -Englishman, and so strive to wring the secret--if there were one--from -him. Yet he hesitated, and debated the question with its pros and cons -again and again, until the greater urgency of the coming struggle -extinguished all other thoughts in his mind. - -He had enemies, yes, bitter ones, and now that the dogs of war were -allowed to be unchained, he would strike a blow for himself, as well as -for Maud. Why, there was that hated rival, the Lord of Shirburne, who -boasted that he kept the Key of the Chilterns in his hand--there was his -rival of Donnington Castle over the downs--what splendid opportunities -for plunder, vainglory, and revenge. - -In such meditations did the Lord of Wallingford ride home through the -forest, and adown the Moreton brook. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile his defeated foe, upon whom the victor had scarcely bestowed a -passing thought, lay stiff and stark upon the ground. - -The night wind sang a dirge over him, but no human being was there to -see whether the breath was yet in him. But a canine friend was -there--his poor wolf hound--mangled by the teeth of his foe, but yet -alive and likely to live. And now he came up to the prostrate body of -his master and licked his face, while from time to time he raised his -nose in the air, and uttered a plaintive howl, which floated adown the -wind an appeal for help. - -Was it a prayer for the living or the dead? - -Surely there were the signs of life, the hues of that bloodless cheek -are not yet those of death; see, he stirs! only just a stir, but it -tells of life, and where there is life there is hope. - -But who shall cherish the flickering spark? - -The aspect of nature seems all merciless. Is there mercy yet in man? - -A faint beating of the heart; a faint pulsation of the wrist--it might -be quickened into life. - -Is it well that he should live? - -A typical Englishman, of Saxon lineage, stout, thickset. Did we believe -in the transmigration of souls, we should say he had been a bull in some -previous state of existence. Vast strength, great endurance, do find -their incarnations in that frame: he might have felled an ox, but yet he -went down before the subtlety of Norman fence. - -Is it good that he should live, an outlaw, whose life any Norman may -take and no questions asked? Look at that arm; it may account for many a -Norman lost in solitary wayfaring. Oh! what memories of wrong sleep -within that insensible brain! - -Happily it is for a wiser power to decide. - -Listen, there is a tinkling of small bells over there in the distance. -It draws nearer; the dog gives a louder howl--now the party is close. - -Five or six horses, a sumpter mule, five or six ecclesiastics in sombre -dress, riding the horses, the hoods drawn back over the heads, the -horses richly caparisoned, little silver bells dependent here and there -from their harness. - -"What have we here, brother Anselm? why doth the dog thus howl?" - -"There hath been a fray, brother Laurentius. Here is a corpse; pray for -his soul." - -"Nay, he yet liveth," said a third, who had alighted. "I feel his heart -beat; he is quite warm. But, oh! Saint Benedict! what a wound, what a -ghastly gash across the shoulder." - -"Raise him on the sumpter mule; we must bear him home and tend him. -Remember the good Samaritan." - -"But first let me bind up the wound as well as I can, and pour in oil -and wine. I will take him before me. Sancta Maria! what a weight! No, -good dog, we mean thy master no harm." - -But the dog offered no opposition; he saw his master was in good hands. -He only tried as well as his own wounds would let him to caper for joy. - -"Poor dog, he hath been hurt too. How chanced it? What a mystery." - -Happily the good brothers never travelled without medicinal stores, and -a little ointment modifies pain. - -So in a short time they were on their road again, carrying the wounded -with them. - -They were practical Christians, those monks. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -DORCHESTER ABBEY - - -The Abbey of Dorchester stood on the banks of the river Tame, a small -stream arising near the town of the same name, and watering the finest -pasture land of the county of Oxfordshire, until, half a mile below the -Abbey, it falls into the Isis, which thence, strictly speaking, becomes -the Thames (Tamesis). - -This little town of Dorchester is not unknown to fame; it was first a -British town, then a Roman city. Destroyed by the Saxons, it rose from -its ashes to become the Cathedral city of the West Saxons, and the scene -of the baptism of Cynegils, son of Ceol, by the hands of St. Birinus. -The see was transferred to Winchester, but afterwards it became the seat -of the great Mercian bishopric, and as its jurisdiction had once reached -the Channel, so now it extended to the Humber and the Wash. - -Cruelly destroyed by the Danes, it never regained its importance, and on -account of its impoverished state,[9] the see was again removed by -Remigius, the first Norman Bishop, to Lincoln, in the year 1092. But -although the ancient city was thus deserted, the Bishop strove to make -it some amends. He took care that an abbey should be created at -Dorchester, lest the place should be ruined, or sunk in oblivion; and -some say the Abbey was built with the stones which came from the -Bishop's palace, the site of which is still marked by a farm called -"Bishop's Court." - -But the earlier buildings must have been of small extent, for at the -time of our story, Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln, was busy with a more -magnificent structure, and he had already removed into the buildings, as -yet but incomplete, a brotherhood of Black Canons, or Augustinians, -under the rule of Abbot Alured. - -The great church which had been the cathedral--the mother church of the -diocese--had been partially rebuilt in the Norman style,[10] and around -stood the buildings of the Abbey, west and north of the church. - -In the scriptorium, overlooking the Tame, sat Abbot Alured. The Chapter -Mass, which followed Terce (9 A.M.), had been said, and he was busy with -the librarian, arranging his books. Of middle stature, with dark -features, he wore an air of asceticism, tempered by an almost feminine -suavity, and his voice was soft and winning. - -He was the son of a Norman knight by an English wife, who had brought -the aforesaid warrior an ample dowry in lands, for thus did the policy -of the Conqueror attempt the reconciliation of conflicting interests and -the amalgamation of the rival races of conquerors and conquered. For a -long time the pair were childless, until the mother--like Hannah, whose -story she had heard in church--vowed, if God would grant her a child, to -dedicate it to God. Alured was born, and her husband, himself weary of -perpetual fighting and turmoil, allowed her to fulfil her vow. The boy -was educated at Battle Abbey, and taught monastic discipline; sent -thence to Bec, which the fame of Lanfranc and Anselm--both successively -translated to Canterbury--had made the most renowned school of theology -in Northern Europe. There he received the tonsure, and passed through -the usual grades, until, attracting the attention of Bishop Alexander, -during a visit of that prelate to Bec, he was selected to be the new -Abbot of Dorchester. - -And now he was in the library, or scriptorium--the chamber he loved best -in his Abbey. What books, forsooth, had he there in those dark ages! - -First there were all the books of the Old Testament in several volumes -and in the Latin tongue; then the New Testament in three volumes; there -were all the works of St. Augustine, in nineteen large tomes, with most -of the books of the other fathers of the Western Church; the lives of -the great monastic Saints, and the martyrology or acts of the Martyrs. -There were books of ecclesiastical history, and treatises on Church -music, with various liturgical works. Of light reading there was none, -but the lives of the Saints and Martyrs furnished the most exciting -reading, wherein fact was unintentionally blended with fiction. - -"What a wonderful mine of wealth we have here in this new martyrology! -Truly, my brethren, here we have the patience and faith of the Saints to -encourage us in our warfare," said the Abbot, opening a huge volume -bound in boar's hide, and glancing round at the scribes, who, pen in -hand and ink-horn at their girdles, with clear sheets of vellum before -them, prepared to write at his dictation. - -"This book was lent us by the Abbot of Abingdon, now six months ago, and -before Advent it must be returned thither--not until every letter has -been duly transcribed into our new folios. Where didst thou leave off -yesterday?" - -"At the 'Acts of St. Artemas.'" - -And the Abbot read, while they wrote down his words: "Artemus was a -Christian boy, who lived at Puteoli, and who was sent, at the -instigation of heathen relations, to the school of one Cathageta, a -heathen. But the little scholar could not hide his faith, although -bidden to do so, lest he should suffer persecution. But what is deep in -the heart comes out of the mouth, and he converted two or three -schoolfellows, so that at the next festival, in honour of Diana, they -omitted to place the customary garlands on her image. This aroused -inquiry, and the young athlete of Christ was discovered. The master, -bidding him renounce his faith in vain, severely scourged him, but the -boy said: 'The more you scourge me the more you whip my religion into -me.' Whereupon Cathageta, turning to the other scholars, said: 'Perhaps -your endeavours will be more successful than mine in wiping out this -disgrace from the school;' and he departed, leaving him to the mercies -of the other boys, who, educated in the atrocities of the arena, stabbed -him to death with their stili or pointed iron pens."[11] - -"Poor boy," murmured the youngest copyist--himself but a boy--when the -dictation was finished. - -"Nay; glorious Martyr, you mean. He has his reward now. You have heard -me speak of the martyrdom of St. Euthymius; that was a harder one. It -follows here. - -"St. Euthymius was a Bishop of the African Church, who, being taken by -his persecutors, and refusing to offer sacrifice to the idols, was shut -up in a close stone cell with a multitude of mice. A wire, attached to a -bell outside, was placed near his hand, and he was told that if he were -in distress he might ring it, and should obtain immediate assistance; -but that his doing so would be taken as equivalent to a renunciation of -Christ. No bell was heard, and when on the third day they opened the -cell, they found nought but a whitened skeleton and a multitude of -fattened mice." - -Every one drew in his breath, some in admiration, some in horror. - -The young novice had suspended his labours to listen. - -"Benedict, you are neglecting your gradual," said the Abbot. "The music -must be completed for the coming festival of All Saints; it is the chant -of Fescamp--somewhat softer to our ears than the harsher Gregorian -strains. Yet many love the latter well; as did the monks of -Glastonbury." - -Here he paused, and waited until he saw they were all open-mouthed for -his story; for such was monastic discipline, that no one ventured to -say: "Tell us the story." - -"Well," he said, "the English monks of Glastonbury had endured much -unmerited severity at the hands of Thurstan, their Norman Abbot, but -they bore all, until he bade them leave off their crude Gregorian -strains, and chant the lays of William of Fescamp. Then they stoutly -refused; and he sent for a troop of men-at-arms. The monks rushed to the -great church and barred themselves in, but the men-at-arms forced a way -into the church, and slew the greater part of the monks with their -arrows. So thick was the storm of piercing shafts, that the image of the -Christ on the rood was stuck full of these sacrilegious missiles." - -"And what became of Thurstan?" asked one of the elder brethren. - -"The king deposed him, as unfit to rule; suggesting that a shepherd -should not flay his sheep." - -"And that was all?" said an indignant young novice, whose features -showed his English blood. - -"Hush! my son Wilfred. Novices must hear--not speak. Speech is silver; -silence is golden." - -At that moment the Prior made his appearance in the doorway. - -"My father Abbot, the brethren have returned from our poor house at -Hermitage, and they bring a wounded man, whom they found on the downs." - -"English or Norman?" - -"The former, I believe, but he has not yet spoken." - -"Send for the almoner and infirmarer. I will come and look at him -myself." - -Leaving the scriptorium, the Abbot traversed the pleasant cloisters, -which were full of boys, learning their lessons under the -superintendence of certain brethren--some declining Latin nouns or -conjugating verbs; some reading the scanty leaves of parchment which -served as lesson books, more frequently repeating passages _viva voce_ -after a master, while seated upon rude forms, or more commonly standing. -So were the cloisters filled--the only schools for miles around. They -looked upon an inner quadrangle of the monastery, with the great church -to the south. Passing through a passage to the west of the nave, the -Abbot reached the gateway of the abbey, somewhere near the site of the -present tower, which is modern. The view to the south from this point -stretched across the Thames to Synodune; nearer at hand rose to left and -right the towers of two parish churches,[12] the buildings of the town -(or city, as it had hitherto been), poor and straggling as compared with -the ecclesiastical dwellings, lay before them; the embankment of the -Dyke hills then terminated the town in this direction, and beyond rose -the stately clumps of Synodune. - -Inside the porch rested the wayfarers; their beasts had been led to the -stables, and on a sort of hand-bier before them, resting on tressels, -lay the prostrate form of the victim of the prowess of Brian Fitz-Count. - -"Where didst thou find him?" asked the Abbot. - -"Near the spot on the downs where once holy Birinus preached the -Evangel." - -"And this dog?" - -"Was with him, wounded by teeth as the master by sword. It was his moans -and howls which attracted us." - -The Abbot bent over the prostrate form. - -"Has he spoken since you found him?" - -"No, my lord; only moans and gasps." - -"I see he is much hurt; I fear you have only brought him hither to die." - -"Houselled, anointed and annealed?" - -"If he recover his senses sufficiently." - -Just then a moan, louder than before, made them all start, then followed -a deep, hollow, articulate voice. - -"Where am I?" - -"At the Abbey of Dorchester." - -"Who brought me hither?" - -"Friends." - -He gazed wildly round, then sank with a deep groan back on the bier. - -"Take him to the infirmary, and on the morrow we will see him." - -A chance medley on the downs--a free fight between two who met by -chance--was so common, that the Abbot thought far less of the matter -than we may imagine. - -"Insooth, he is ghastly," he said, "but in the more need of our aid. I -trust we shall save both soul and body. Let the dog also have food and -shelter." - -But the dog would not leave his master's side, and they were forced to -move both into the same cell, where the poor beast kept licking the hand -which dropped pendent from the couch. - -"My lord Abbot, there are weightier matters to consider than the welfare -of one poor wounded wayfarer, who has fallen among thieves." - -"What are they?" - -"Didst thou mark the bale-fire on Synodune last night?" - -"We did, and marvelled what it could mean." - -"They were lighted all over the country: Lowbury, Highclere, White -Horse, Shirburne Beacon--all sent their boding flames heavenward." - -"What does it portend?" - -"There were rumours that Matilda, the Empress Queen, had landed -somewhere in the south." - -"Then we shall have civil war, and every man's hand will be against his -brother, which God forbid. Yet when Stephen seized our worthy Bishop in -his chamber, eating his dinner of pulse and water----" - -"Pheasant, washed down with malmsey, more likely," muttered a voice. - -The Abbot heard not, but continued-- - -"And shut him in a dungeon--the anointed of the Lord--and half starved -him----" - -"Making him fast for once, in earnest!" - -"Until he should deliver his castles of Newark and Sleaford----" - -"Pretty sheepfolds for a shepherd to keep!" - -"Such a king has little hold of his people; and it may be, God's just -judgments are impending over us. And what shall we do if we cannot save -the poor sheep committed to our charge; for be the one party or the -other victorious, the poor will have to suffer. Therefore, my dear -brethren, after Sext, we will hold a special chapter before we take our -meridiana" (noontide nap, necessitated when there was so much night -rising), "and consider what we had best do. Haste ye, my brother -Ambrose; take thy party to the cellarer, and get some light refreshment. -This is the day when he asks pardon of us all for his little -negligencies, and in return for the Miserere we sing in his name, we get -a better refection than usual. So do not spoil your appetites now. -Haste, and God be with you. The sacristan has gone to toll the bell for -Sext." - -FOOTNOTES: - -[9] "Quæ urbs propter parvitatem Remigio displicebat."--JOHN OF -BROMPTON. - -[10] It consisted of the present nave, exclusive of the south aisle, and -extended some distance beyond the chancel arch, including the north -aisle as far as the present door. The cloister extended northward, -covering the small meadow which separates the manor-house grounds from -the church. The latter were probably the gardens of the abbey. - -[11] This true story is the foundation of _The Victor's Laurel_, a tale -of school life in Italy, by the same author. - -[12] Leland thus marks their site--three in all besides the abbey -church--one a little by south from the abbey, near the bridge; one more -south above it (nearer the Dyke); and "there was the 3 Paroch Chirch by -south-west" (towards Wittenham). - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE BARON AND HIS PRISONERS - - -When Brian Fitz-Count returned to his castle it was buried in the -silence and obscurity of night; only the sentinels were awake, and as -they heard his password, they hastened to unbar the massive gates, and -to undraw the heavy bolts, and turn the ponderous keys which gave -admittance to his sombre castle. - -The fatigue of a long day had made even the strong man weary, and he -said nought to any man, but sought his inner chamber, threw himself on -his pallet, and there the man of strife slept, for he had the soldier's -faculty of snatching a brief nap in the midst of perplexity and toil. - -In vain did the sentinels look for some key to the meaning of the -bale-fires, which had blazed all round; their lord was silent. "The -smiling morn tipped the hills with gold," and the _reveillée_ blew loud -and long; the busy tide of life began to flow within the walls; men -buckled on their armour, to try if every rivet were tight; tried the -edge of their swords, tested the points of their lances; ascended the -towers and looked all round for signs of a foe; discussed, wondered, -argued, quarrelled of course, but all without much result, until, at the -hour of _déjeûner_ (or breakfast), their dread lord appeared, and took -his usual place at the head of the table in the great hall. - -The meal--a substantial one of flesh, fish, and fowl, washed down by -ale, mead and wine--was eaten amid the subdued murmur of many voices, -and not till it was ended, and the Chaplain had returned thanks--for -such forms did Brian, for policy's sake, if for no better motive, always -observe--than he rose up to his full height and spoke-- - -"Knights and pages, men-at-arms all! I have good news for you! The -Empress--our rightful Queen--has landed in Sussex, and this very day I -go to meet her, and to aid in expelling the fell usurper Stephen. Who -will follow in my train?" - -Every hand was upraised, amidst a clamour of voices and cheers, for they -sniffed the battle afar, like the war-horse in Job, and delighted like -the vulture in the scent of blood. - -"It is well. I would sooner have ten free-hearted volunteers than a -hundred lagging retainers, grudgingly fulfilling their feudal -obligations. Let every man see to his horse, armour, sword, shield, and -lance, and at noontide we will depart." - -"At what time," asked the Chaplain, "shall we have the special Mass -said, to evoke God's blessing on our efforts to dethrone the tyrant, who -has dared to imprison our noble Bishop, Alexander?" - -"By all means a Mass, it will sharpen our swords: say at nine--a hunting -Mass, you know." (That is, a Mass reduced to the shortest proportions -the canons allowed.) - -When the household had dispersed, all save the chief officers who waited -to receive their lord's orders about the various matters committed -severally to their charge, Brian called one of them aside. - -"Malebouche, bid Coupe-gorge, the doomster, be ready with his minions in -the torture-chamber, and take thither the old man whom we caught in the -woods yestere'en. I will be present myself, and give orders what is to -be done, in half an hour." - -Malebouche departed on the errand, and Brian hastened to accomplish -various necessary tasks, ere the time to which he looked forward with -some interest arrived. It came at last, and he descended a circular -stone staircase in the interior of the north-west tower, which seemed -to lead into the bowels of the earth. - -Rather into a vaulted chamber, curiously furnished with divers chains -and pulleys, and hooks, and pincers, and other quaint instruments of -mediæval cruelty. In one corner hung a thick curtain, which concealed -all behind from view. - -In the centre there was a heavy wooden table, and at the head a massive -rude chair, wherein the Baron seated himself. - -Before the table stood the prisoner--the aged Sexwulf--still preserving -his composure, and gazing with serene eye upon the fierce Baron--the -ruthless judge, in whose hands was his fate. - -Two lamps suspended from the roof shed a lurid light upon the scene. - -"Sexwulf, son of Thurkill, hearken, and thou, Malebouche, retire up the -stairs, and wait my orders on the landing above." - -"My lord, the tormentor is behind the curtain," whispered Malebouche, as -he departed. - -Brian nodded assent, but did not think fit to order the departure of the -doomster, whose horrible office made him familiar with too many secrets, -wrung from the miserable victims of his art, and who was, like a -confessor, pledged to inviolable secrecy. A grim confessor he! - -"Now, old man," said the Baron, "I am averse to wring the truth from the -stammering lips of age. Answer me, without concealment, the truth--the -whole truth!" - -"I have nought to conceal." - -"Whose son is the boy I found in thy care?" - -"My daughter's son." - -"Who was his father?" - -"Wulfnoth of Compton." - -"Now thou liest; his features proclaim him Norman." - -"He has no Norman blood." - -"And thou dost persist in this story?" - -"I have none other to tell." - -"Then I must make the tormentor find thee speech. What ho! Coupe-gorge!" - -The curtain was drawn back with a clang, and revealed the rack and a -brasier, containing pincers heated to a gray heat, and a man in leathern -jerkin with a pendent mask of black leather, with two holes cut therein -for the eyes, and two assistants similarly attired--one a black man, or -very swarthy Moor. - -The old man did not turn his head. - -"Look," said Brian. - -"Why should I look? I have told thee the very truth; I have nought to -alter in my story. If thou dost in thy cruelty misuse the power which -God has given thee, and rend me limb from limb, I shall soon be beyond -thy cruelty. But I can tell thee nought." - -"We will see," said Brian. "Place him on the rack!" - -"It needs not force," said the aged Englishman. "I will walk to thy bed -of pain," and he turned to do so. - -Again this calm courage turned Brian. - -"Man," he said, "thou wouldst not lie before to save thy life; nor now, -I am convinced, to save thy quivering flesh, if it does quiver. Tell me -what thou hast to tell, without being forced to do so." - -"I will. Thou didst once burn a house at Compton--the house of -Wulfnoth." - -"I remember it too well. The churl would not pay me tribute." - -"Tribute to whom tribute is due," muttered the aged one; then, aloud, -"One child escaped the flames, in which my daughter and her other poor -children perished. A few days afterwards the father, who had escaped, -brought me this child and bade me rear it, in ignorance of the fate of -kith and kin, while he entered upon the life of a hunted but destroying -wolf, slaying Normans." - -"And he said the boy was his own?" - -"And why should he not be? He has my poor daughter's features in some -measure, I have thought." - -"She must have been lovely, then," thought Brian, but only said-- - -"Tormentor, throw aside thy implements; they are for cowards. Old man, -ere thou ascend the stairs, know that thy life depends upon thy -grandson. Canst thou spare him to me?" - -"Have I any choice?" - -"Nay. But wilt thou bid him enter my service, and perchance win his -spurs?" - -"Not for worlds." - -"Why refuse so great an opening to fame?" - -"I would sooner far follow him to his grave! Thou wouldst destroy the -soul." - -"Fool! has he a soul? Have I or you got one? What is it? I do not know." -Then he repressed these dangerous words--dangerous to himself, even in -his stronghold. - -"Malebouche!" - -Malebouche appeared. - -"Take the grandsire away. Bring hither the boy." - -He waited in a state of intense but subdued feeling. - -The boy appeared at last--pale, not quite so free from apprehension as -his grandsire: how could any one expect a real boy, unless he were a -phenomenon, to enter a torture chamber as a prisoner without emotion? -What are all the switchings, birchings, and canings modern boys have -borne, compared with rack, pincer, and thumbscrew--to the hideous -sachentage, the scorching iron? The very enumeration makes the hair rise -in these days; only they are but a memory from the grim bad past now. - -"Osric, whose son art thou?" - -"The son of Wulfnoth." - -"And who was thy mother?" - -The boy flushed. - -"I know not--save that she is dead." - -"Does thy father live?" - -"I know not." - -"Art thou English or Norman?" - -"English." - -"Thou art not telling the truth." - -"Not the truth!" cried the boy, evidently surprised. - -"No, and I must force it from thee." - -"Force it from me!" stammered the poor lad. - -"Look!" - -Again the curtain opened, and the grisly sight met the eyes of Osric. He -winced, then seemed to make a great effort at self-control, and at last -spoke with tolerable calmness-- - -"My lord, I have nought to tell if thou pull me in pieces. What should I -hide, and why? I have done thee no harm; why shouldst thou wish to -torture me--a poor helpless boy, who never harmed thee?" - -The Baron gazed at him with a strange expression. - -"Thou knowest thou art in my hands, to do as I please with thee." - -"But God will protect or avenge me." - -"And this is all thou hast to say? Dost thou not fear the rack, the -flame?" - -"Who can help fearing it?" - -"Wouldst thou lie to escape it?" - -"No, God helping me. That is, I would do my best." - -The Baron drew a long breath. There was something in the youth which -fascinated him. He loved to hear him speak; he revelled in the tones of -his voice; he even liked to see the contest between his natural courage -and truthfulness and the sense of fear. But he could protract it no -longer, because it pained while it pleased. - -"Boy, wilt thou enter my service?" - -"I belong to my grandsire." - -"Wouldst thou not wish to be a knight?" - -"Nay, unless I could be a true knight." - -"What is that?" - -"One who keeps his vow to succour the oppressed, and never draw sword -save in the cause of God and right." - -Again the Baron winced. - -"Wilt thou be my page?" - -"No." - -Brian looked at him fixedly. - -"Thou must!" - -"Why?" - -"Thy life is forfeit to the laws; it is the only avenue of escape." - -"Then must I die." - -"Wouldst thou sooner die than follow me?" - -"I think so; I do not quite know." - -"And thy grandsire, too? Ye are both deer-stealers, and I have hanged -many such." - -"Oh, not my grandsire--not my poor grandfather!" and the boy knelt down, -and raised his hands joined in supplication. "Hang me, if thou wilt, but -spare him." - -"My boy, neither shalt hang, if thou wilt but hear me--be my page, and -he shall be free to return to his hut, with permission to kill one deer -per month, and smaller game as he pleases." - -"And if I will not promise?" - -"Thou must rot in a dungeon till my return, when I will promise thou -wilt be glad to get out at any price, and _he_ must hang to-day--and -thou wilt know thou art his executioner." - -The boy yielded. - -"I _must_ give way. Oh! must I be thy page?" - -"Yes, foolish boy--a good thing for thee, too." - -"If I must, I will--but only to save his life. God forgive me!" - -"God forgive thee? For what?" - -"For becoming a Norman!" - -"Malebouche!" called Brian. - -The seneschal descended. - -"Take this youth to the wardrobe, and fit him with a page's suit; he -rides with me to-day. Feed the old man, and set him free." - -He sent for Alain, the chief and leader amongst his pages--a sort of -cock of the walk. - -"Alain, that English boy we found in the woods rides with us to-day. -Mark me, neither tease, nor bully him thyself, nor allow thy fellows to -do so. Thou knowest that I will be obeyed." - -"My lord," said the lad, "I will do my best. What is the name of our new -companion?" - -"'Fitz-urse'--that is enough." - -"I should say Fitz-daim," muttered the youngster, as soon as he was -outside. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE LEPERS - - -The scene was the bank of a large desolate pond or small lake in -Northamptonshire. It was on high table-land, for the distant country -might be seen through openings in the pine-trees on every side: here and -there a church tower, here and there a castle or embattled dwelling; -here and there a poverty-stricken assemblage of huts, clustering -together for protection. In the south extended the valley of the -Cherwell, towards the distant Thames; on the west the high table-land of -North Oxfordshire sank down into the valley of the Avon and Severn. - -It was a cold windy autumnal morning, the ground yet crisp from an early -frost, the leaves hung shivering on the trees, waiting for the first -bleak blast of the winter wind to fetch them down to rot with their -fellows. - -On the edge of a pond stood two youths of some fifteen and thirteen -years. They had divested themselves of their upper garments--thick warm -tunics--and gazed into the water, here deep, dark, and slimy. There was -a look of fixed resolution, combined with hopeless despair, in their -faces, which marked the would-be suicides. - -They raised their pale faces, their eyes swollen with tears, to heaven. - -"O God," said the elder one, "and ye, ye Saints--if Saints there -be--take the life I can bear no longer: better trust to your mercies -than those of man--better Purgatory, nay, Hell, than earth. Come, -Richard, the rope!" - -The younger one was pale as death, but as resolved as the elder. He -took up a rope, which he had thrown upon the grass, and gave it -mechanically, with hands that yet trembled, to his brother. - -"One kiss, Evroult--the last!" - -They embraced each other fervently. - -"Let us commend ourselves to God; He will not be hard upon us, if He is -as good as the Chaplain says--He knows it all." - -And they wound the rope around them, so as to bind both together. - -"We shall not be able to change our minds, even if the water be cold, -and drowning hard." - -The younger shivered, but did not falter in his resolution. What mental -suffering he must have gone through; for the young naturally cling to -life. - -But the dread secret was all too visible. - -From the younger boy two fingers had fallen off--rotted away with the -disease. The elder had a covering over the cheek, a patch, for the -leprosy had eaten through it. There was none of the spring and gladness -of childhood or youth in either; they carried the tokens of decay with -them. They had the sentence of physical death in themselves. - -Now they stood tottering on the brink. The wind sighed hoarsely around -them; a raven gave an ominous croak-croak, and flew flapping in the air. -One moment--and they leapt together. - -There was a great splash. - -Was all over? - -No; one had seen them, and had guessed their intent, and now arrived -panting and breathless on the brink, with a long rope, terminated by a -large iron hook, in his hand. Behind him came a second individual in a -black cassock, but he had girded up his loins to run the better. - -The man threw the rope just as the bodies rose to the surface--it missed -and they disappeared once more. He watched--a moment of suspense--again -they rose; he threw once more. Would the hook catch? Yes; it is -entangled in the cord with which they have bound themselves, and they -are saved! It is an easy task now to draw them to the land. - -"My children! my children!" said the Chaplain, "why have ye attempted -self-murder; to rush unsummoned into the presence of your Judge? Had we -not been here ye had gone straight to eternal misery." - -The boys struggled on the shore, but the taste of the cold water had -tamed them. The sense of suffocation was yet upon them; they could not -speak, but their immersion was too brief to have done them much harm, -and after a few minutes they were able to walk. No other words were -said, and their rescuers led them towards a low building of stone. - -It was a building of great extent--a quadrangle enclosing half an acre, -with an inner cloister running all round. In the centre rose a simple -chapel of stern Norman architecture; opening upon the cloister were -alternate doors and unglazed windows, generally closed by shutters, in -the centre of which was a thin plate of horn, so that when the weather -necessitated their use, the interiors might not be quite destitute of -light. On one side of the square was the dining-hall, on the other the -common room; these had rude cavernous chimneys, and fires were kindled -on the hearths; there was no upper story. In each of the smaller -chambers was a central table and three or four rough wooden bedsteads. - -In the cloisters were scores of hapless beings, men and boys, some -lounging about, some engaged in games now long forgotten; some talking -and gesticulating loudly. All races which were found in England had -their representatives--the Norman, the Saxon, the Celt. - -It was the recreation hour, for they were not left in idleness through -the day; the community was mainly self-supporting. Men wrought at their -own trades, made their own clothes and shoes, baked their own bread, -brewed their own beer, worked in the fields and gardens within the -outer enclosure. The charity of the outside world did the rest, upon -condition that the lepers never strayed beyond their precincts to infect -the outer world of health. - -The Chaplain, himself also enclosed, belonged to an order of brethren -who had devoted themselves to this special work throughout Europe--they -nearly always took the disease.[13] Father Ambrose quite understood, -when he entered upon his self-imposed task, that he would probably die -of the disease himself, but neither priests, physicians, nor sisters -were ever wanting to fulfil the law of Christ in ministering to their -suffering brethren, remembering His words: "Inasmuch as ye have done it -to the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me." - -The day was duly divided: there was the morning Mass, the service of -each of the "day hours" in the chapel, the hours of each meal, the time -of recreation, the time of work; all was fixed and appointed in due -rotation, and could the poor sufferers only have forgotten the world, -and resigned themselves to their sad fate, they were no worse off than -the monks in many a monastery. - -But the hideous form of the disease was always there; here an arm in a -sling, to hide the fact the hand was gone; here a footless man, here an -eyeless one; here a noseless one, there another--like poor Evroult--with -holes through the cheek; here the flesh livid with red spots or circles -enclosing patches white as snow--so they carried the marks of the most -hideous disease of former days. - -Generally they were the objects of pity, but also of abhorrence and -dread. The reader will hardly believe that in France, in the year 1341, -the lepers were actually burnt alive throughout the land, in the false -plea that they poisoned the waters, really in the cruel hope to stamp -out the disease.[14] - -Outside the walls were all the outhouses, workshops, and detached -buildings, also an infirmary for the worst cases; within the enclosure -also the last sad home when the fell destroyer had completed his -work--the graveyard, God's acre; and in the centre rose a huge plain -cross, with the word PAX on the steps. - -It was a law of the place that no one who entered on any pretence might -leave it again: people did not believe in cures; leprosy was -incurable--at least save by a miracle, as when the Saviour trod this -weary world. - -The Chaplain took the poor boys to his own chamber, a little room above -the porch of the chapel, containing a bed, over which hung the crucifix, -a chair, a table, and a few MS. books, a gospel, an epistle, a -prophetical book, the offices, church services; little more. - -He made them sit in the embrasure of the window, he did not let them -speak until he had given each a cup of hot wine, they sat sobbing there -a long time, he let nature have its way. At length the time came and he -spoke. - -"Evroult, my dear child, Richard, how could you attempt self-murder? -Know you not that your lives are God's, and that you may not lay them -down at your own pleasure." - -"Oh, father, why did you save us? It would have been all over now." - -"And where would you have been?" - -The boy shuddered. The teaching about Hell, and the horrors of the -state of the wicked dead, was far too literal and even coarsely -material, at that time, for any one to escape its influence. - -"Better a thousand times to be here, only bear up till God releases you, -and He will make up for all this. You will not think of the billows past -when you gain the shore." - -"But, father, anything is better than this--these horrid sights, these -dreadful faces, and my father a baron." - -"Thou art saved many sins," said and felt the priest; "war is a dreadful -thing, strife and bloodshed would have been thy lot." - -"But I loved to hunt, to _fight_; I long to be a man, a knight, to win a -name in the world, to win my spurs. Oh, what shall I do, how can I bear -this?" - -"And do _you_ feel like this, Richard," said the priest, addressing the -younger boy. - -"Indeed I do, how can I help it? Oh, the green woods, the baying of the -hounds, the delightful gallop, the sweet, fresh air of our Berkshire -downs, the hall on winter nights, the gleemen and their songs, their -stories of noble deeds of prowess, the----" - -"And the tilt-yard, the sword and the lance, the tournament, the -_melée_," added the other. - -"And Evroult, so brave and expert; oh what a knight thou wouldst have -made, my brother." - -"And our father loved to see us wrestle and fight, and ride, and jump, -and called us his brave boys; and our mother was proud of us--oh, how -can we bear the loss of all?" - -What could be said: nature was too strong, the instincts of generations -were in the boys, the blood of the sea-kings of old ran in their veins. - -"Oh, can you not help us? we know you are kind; shall we never get out? -is there no hope?" - -The tears streamed down the venerable man's cheeks. - -"We know you love us or you would not be here; they say you came of your -own accord." - -He glanced at a glowing circle of red on his right hand, encircling a -spot of leprous flesh as white as snow. - -"Ah, my dear boys," he said, "I had your feelings once; nay, I was a -knight too, and had wife and children." - -"Do they live?" - -"Yes, but not here; a neighbour, Robert de Belesme, you may have heard -of him----" - -"As a cruel monster, a wicked knight." - -"Stormed my castle in my absence, and burnt it with all therein." - -"And did you not avenge them?" - -"I was striving to do so, when the hand of God was laid upon me, and I -woke from a burning fever to learn that He has said, 'Vengeance is Mine, -I will repay.'" - -"And then?" - -"I came here." - -"Poor Father Ambrose," said Richard. - -"If I could get out _I_ would try to avenge him," said Evroult. - -"The murderer has gone before his Judge; leave it," said the priest; -"there the hidden things shall be made clear, my boys, _noblesse -oblige_, the sons of a baron should keep their word." - -"Have we ever broken it?" - -"Not so far as I am aware, and I am sure you will not now." - -"What are we to promise?" - -"Promise me you will not strive to destroy yourselves again." - -They looked at each other. - -"It is cowardly, unworthy of gentlemen." - -"_Cowardly!_" and the hot blood rose in their faces. - -"Base cowardice." - -"None ever called me coward before; but you are a priest." - -"My children, will you not promise? Then you shall not be confined as -you otherwise must be----" - -"Let them confine us; we can dash our heads against the walls!" - -"For my sake, then; they hurt me when they hurt you." - -They paused, looked at each other, and sighed. - -"Yes, Evroult?" said Richard. - -"Yes, be it then, father; we promise." - -But there was another thought in Evroult's mind which he did not reveal. - -The bell then rang for chapel, but we fear the boys did not take more -than their bodies there; and when they were alone in their own little -chamber--for they were treated with special distinction (their father -"subscribed liberally to the charity")--the hidden purpose came out. - -"Richard," said Evroult, "we must escape." - -"What shall we do? where can we go?" - -"To Wallingford." - -"But our father will slay us." - -"Not he; he loves us too well. We shall recover then. Old Bartimoeus -here told me many do recover when they get away, and live, as some do, -in the woods. It is all infection _here_; besides, I _must_ see our -mother again, if it is only once more--MUST see her, I long for her so." - -"But do you not know that the country people would slay us." - -"They are too afraid of the disease to seize us." - -"But they keep big dogs--mastiffs, and would hunt us if they knew we -were outside." - -"We must escape in the night." - -"The gates are barred and watched." - -"A chance will come some evening, at the last hour of recreation before -dark, we will hide in the bushes, and as soon as the others go in make -for the wall; we can easily get over; now, Richard, are you willing?" - -"Yes," said the younger, who always looked up to his elder brother with -great belief, "I am willing, but do not make the attempt yet; let us -wait a day or two; we are watched and suspected now." - -FOOTNOTES: - -[13] The disease of leprosy has been deemed incurable, and so -practically it was; but it was long before it proved fatal; it -ordinarily ran its course in a period not less than ten, nor exceeding -twenty, years. - -The first symptoms were not unlike those of malarious disease; perhaps -leprosy was not so much contagious as endemic, bred of foul waters, or -the absence of drainage, or nourished in stagnant marshes; but all men -deemed it highly contagious. - -The distinctive symptoms which next appeared were commonly reddish spots -on the limbs; these by degrees extended, until, becoming white as snow -in the centre, they resembled rings; then the interior became ulcerous, -and as the ulcer ate into the flesh, the latter presented the tuberous -or honey-combed appearance which led to the disease being called -_leprosa tuberosa_. Especially did the disease affect the joints of the -fingers, the wrists, and the elbows; and limbs would sometimes fall -away--or "slough off," as it is technically called. - -By degrees it spread inward, and attacking the vital organs, -particularly the digestive functions, the sufferer died, not so much -from the primary as from the secondary effects of the disease--from -exhaustion and weakness. - -[14] _Chronicle of St. Evroult_ in loco. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE NEW NOVICE - - -It was the day of St. Calixtus, the day on which, seventy-three years -earlier in the history of England, the Normans had stormed the heights -of Senlac, and the brave Harold had bitten the dust in the agonies of -death with the despairing cry, "Alas for England." - -Of course it was ever a high day with the conquering race, that -fourteenth of October, and the reader will not be surprised that it was -observed with due observance at Dorchester Abbey, and that special -thanksgiving for the victory was offered at the chapter Mass, which took -place at nine of the clock. - -Abbot Alured had just divested himself of the gorgeous vestments, in -which he had officiated at the high altar, when the infirmarer craved an -audience--it was granted. - -"The wounded guest has partially recovered, his fever has abated, his -senses have returned, and he seems anxious to see thee." - -"Why does he wish to see me particularly?" - -"Because he has some secret to communicate." - -"And why not to thee?" - -"I know not, save that he knows that thou art our father." - -"Dost think he will ever fight again?" - -"He will lay lance in rest no more in this world." - -"Nor in the next either, I presume, brother. I will arise and see him." - -Passing through the cloister--which was full of the hum of boys, like -busy bees, learning their tasks--and ascending a flight of steps to the -"_dorture_," the Abbot followed the infirmarer to a pleasant and airy -cell, full of the morning sunlight, which streamed through the panes of -thin membrane--such as frequently took the place of glass. - -There on a couch lay extended the form of the victim of the prowess of -Brian Fitz-Count, his giant limbs composed beneath the coverlet, his -face seamed with many a wrinkle and furrow, and marked with deep lines -of care, his eyes restless and wandering. - -"Thou hast craved to speak with me, my son," said Abbot Alured. - -"Alone," was the reply, in a deep hoarse voice. - -"My brother, leave us till I touch the bell," said the Abbot, pointing -to a small handbell which stood on the table. - -The infirmarer departed. - -"And now, my son, what hast thou to tell me? First, who art thou? and -whence?" - -"I am in sanctuary here, and none can drag me hence; is it not so?" - -"It is, my son, unless thou hast committed such crime as sacrilege, -which God forbid." - -"Such crime can none lay to my charge. Tell me, father, dost thou think -it wrong for a man to slay those who have deprived him of his loved -ones, of all that made life worth living?" - -"'Vengeance is Mine,' saith God." - -"Well, I took mine into my own hand, and now my task is ended. I am -assured that I am a cripple, never to strike a fair blow again." - -"The more time for repentance, the better for thy soul. Thou hast not -yet told me thy name and home?" - -"I tell it thee in confidence, for thou wilt not betray me to mine -enemy." - -"Not unless justice should demand it." - -"Well, I will tell thee my tale first. I was a husband and a father, -and a happy one, living in a home on the downs. In consequence of some -paltry dispute about black-mail or feudal dues, Brian Fitz-Count sent -men who burnt my house in my absence, and my wife and children perished -in the flames." - -"All!" - -"Yes, I found not one alive, so I took to the life of a hunted wolf, -rending and destroying, and slew many foreigners, for I am Wulfnoth of -Compton; now I have told thee all." - -"God's mercy is infinite, thy provocation was indeed great. I judge thee -not, poor man. I never had wife or child, but I can guess how they feel -who have had and lost them. My brother, thine has been a sad life, thy -misery perhaps justified, at least, excused thy life as a leader of -outlaws; I, who am a man in whose veins flows the blood of both races, -can feel for thee, and pardon thy errors." - -"Errors! to avenge her and them." - -"The Saviour forgave His murderers, and left us an example that we -should follow His steps. Listen, my brother, thou must live for -repentance, and to learn submission to God's will; tell thy secret to no -man, lest thy foe seek thee even here, and trouble our poor house." - -"But I hoped to have seen him bite the dust." - -"And God has denied thee the boon; he is a man of strife and blood, and -no well-wisher to Holy Church; he seldom hears a Mass, never is shriven, -at least, so I have been told in confidence, for in this neighbourhood -men speak with bated breath of Brian Fitz-Count, at least within sight -of the tall tower of his keep. We will leave him to God. He is a most -unhappy man; his children are lepers." - -"No, at least not _one_." - -"So I have heard; they are in the great Leper House at Byfield, poor -boys; my cousin is the Chaplain there." - -"And now, father, I will tell thee more. Thou knowest I have been -delirious, yet my senses have been awake to other scenes than these. -Methought my dear wife came to me in my delirium, came to my bedside, -sat in that seat, bathed my fevered brow, nay, it was no dream, her -blest spirit was allowed to resume the semblance of throbbing flesh, and -there she sat, where thou sittest now." - -The Abbot of course saw in this only a phase of delirium, but he said -nought; it was at least better than visions of imps and goblins. - -"Alas, dear one," continued he, as in a soliloquy, "hadst thou lived, I -had not made this life one savage hunting scene, caring only to rush in, -knock down, and drag out the prey, and now I am unfit to be where thou -art, and may never meet thee again." - -"My brother," said the sympathising Alured, "thou believest her to be in -Paradise?" - -"I do, indeed; I know they are there." - -"And thou wouldst fain meet them?" - -"I would." - -"Repent then, confess, thou shall be loosed from thy sins; and since -thou art unfitted for the active walks of life, take upon thee the vows -of religion." - -"May I? what order would admit me?" - -"We will; and thus strive to restore thee to thy dear ones again." - -"And Brian Fitz-Count will escape?" - -"Leave him to God." - -"Well, I will; doubtless he will die and be damned, and we shall never -see him; Heaven would not be Heaven if he were there." - -The Abbot sighed. - -"Ah, brother, thou hast much yet to learn ere thou becomest a true -follower of Him, Who at the moment of His supremest agony prayed for His -murderers." - -But the patient could bear no more, hot tears were streaming down his -cheeks. - -"Brother, peace be with thee, from the Lord of peace, all good Saints -aid thee; say nought of this to any one but me and thou wilt be safe." - -He touched the bell, the infirmarer came in. - -"God hath touched his heart, he will join our order; as soon as possible -he shall take the vows of a novice and assume our garb, then neither -Brian Fitz-Count nor any other potentate, not the king himself, can drag -him forth." - -The last words were uttered in a sort of soliloquy, the infirmarer, for -whom they were not meant, did not catch them. - - * * * * * - -And so the days sped on towards the Feast of All Saints, darkening days -and long nights too, often reddened by the light of distant -conflagrations, for that terrible period of civil strife--nay, of worse -than civil strife--was approaching, when, instead of there being only -two parties in the land, each castle was to become its own centre of -strife--declaring war upon all its neighbours; when men should fear to -till the land for others to reap; when every man's hand should be -against every man; when men should fill their strongholds with human -devils, and torture for torture sake, when there was no longer wealth to -exact; when men should say that God and His Saints were asleep--to such -foul misery and distress did the usurpation of Stephen bring the land. - -But those days were only beginning, as yet the tidings reached -Dorchester slowly that the Empress was the guest of her mother-in-law, -the Queen-Dowager, the widow of Henry the First, at Arundel Castle, in -Sussex, under the protection of only a hundred and forty horsemen; then, -that Robert, Earl of Gloucester, leaving his sister in comparative -safety, had proceeded through the hostile country to Bristol with only -twelve horsemen, until he was joined midway on his journey by Brian -Fitz-Count and his troop from Wallingford Castle; next, that Henry, -Bishop of Winchester, and brother of the king, had declared for her, -and brought her in triumph to Bristol. Lastly, that she had been -conducted by her old friend, Milo, Sheriff of Gloucester, in triumph to -that city, and there received the allegiance of the citizens. - -Meanwhile, the storm of fire and sword had begun; wicked men took -advantage at once of the divided state of the realm, and the eclipse of -the royal authority. - -They heard at Dorchester that Robert Fitz-Hubert, a savage baron, or -rather barbarian, had clandestinely entered the city of Malmesbury and -burnt it to the ground, so that divers of the wretched inhabitants -perished in the flames, of which the barbarian boasted as though he had -obtained a great triumph, declaring himself on the side of the Empress -Queen; and, further, that King Stephen, hearing of the deed, had come -after him, put him to flight, and retaken Malmesbury Castle. - -So affairs progressed up to the end of October. - - ---- - -It was All Saints' Day, and they held high service at Dorchester Abbey; -the Chant of William of Fescamp was introduced, without any of the dire -consequences which followed it at Glastonbury. - -It was a day never to be forgotten by our reclaimed outlaw, Wulfnoth of -Compton, he was that day admitted to the novitiate, and received the -tonsure; dire had been the conflict in his mind; again and again the old -Adam waxed strong within him, and he longed to take advantage, like -others, of the political disturbances, in the hope of avenging his own -personal wrongs; then the sweet teachings of the Gospel softened his -heart, and again and again his dear ones seemed in his dreams to visit -him, and bid him prepare for that haven of peace into which they had -entered. - -"God hath done all things well," the sweet visitants of his dreams -seemed to say; "let the past be the past, and let not its black shadow -darken the glorious future--the parting was terrible, the meeting shall -be the sweeter." - -The ceremony was over, Wulfnoth of Compton had become the Novice -Alphege of Dorchester, for, in accordance with custom, he had changed -his name on taking the vows. - -After the long ceremony was over, he sat long in the church undisturbed, -a sensation of sweet peace came upon him, of rest at last found, the -throbbing heart seemed quiet, the stormy passions stilled. - -And now, too, he no longer needed the protection of carnal weapons, he -was safe in the immunities of the church, none could drag him from the -cloister--he belonged to God. - -What a refuge the monastic life afforded then! Without it men would have -been divided between beasts of burden and beasts of prey. - -And when at last he took possession of his cell, through the narrow -window he could see Synodune rising over the Thames; it was a glorious -day, the last kiss of summer, when the "winter wind was as yet -suspended, although the fading foliage hung resigned." - -Peace ineffable filled his mind. - -The hills of Synodune for one moment caught his gaze, they had been -familiar landmarks in his days of war, rapine, and vengeance, the past -rose to his mind, but he longed not after it now. - -But was the old Adam dead or only slumbering? We shall see. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -OSRIC'S FIRST RIDE - - -Amidst a scene of great excitement, the party of Brian Fitz-Count left -Wallingford Castle, a hundred men, all armed to the teeth, being chosen -to accompany him, while at least five hundred were left behind, capable -of bearing arms, charged with the defence of the Castle, with orders, -that at least two hundred of their number should repair to a rendezvous, -when the progress of events should require their presence, and enable -the Baron to fix the place of meeting by means of a messenger. - -The day was--as it will be remembered--the second of October, in the -year 1139; the season was late, that is, summer was loth to depart, and -the weather was warm and balmy. The wild cheers of their companions, who -envied them their lot, contrasted with the sombre faces of the -townsfolk, foreboding evil in this new departure. - -By the Baron's side rode Milo of Gloucester, and they engaged in deep -conversation. - -Our young friend Osric was committed to the care of the senior page -Alain, who anticipated much sportive pleasure in catechising and -instructing his young companion--such a novice in the art of war. - -And it may be added in equitation, for we need not say old Sexwulf kept -no horses, and Osric had much ado to ride, not gracefully, but so as to -avoid the jeers and laughter of his companions. - -The young reader, who remembers his own first essay in horsemanship, -will appreciate poor Osric's difficulty, and will easily picture the -suppressed, hardly suppressed, laughter of Alain, at each uneasy jolt. -However, Osric was a youth of good sense, and instead of turning red, or -seeming annoyed, laughed heartily too at himself. His spirits were -light, and he soon shook off the depression of the morning under the -influence of the fresh air and smiling landscape, for the tears of youth -are happily--like an April shower--soon followed by sunshine. - -They rode across Cholsey common, then a wide meadowed space, stretching -from Wallingford to the foot of the downs; they left the -newly-_restored_ or rather _rebuilt_ Church of St. Mary's of Cholsey on -their right, around which, at that time, clustered nearly all the houses -of the village, mainly built upon the rising ground to the north of the -church, avoiding the swampy common.[15] - -Farther on to the left, across the clear and sparkling brook, they saw -the burnt and blackened ruins of the former monastery, founded by -Ethelred "the unready," in atonement for the murder of his half-brother, -Edward the Martyr, and burnt in the same terrible inroad; one more mile -brought them to the source of the Cholsey brook, which bubbled up from -the earth amidst a thicket of trees at the foot of a spur of the downs. - -Here they all stopped to drink, for the spring was famous, and had -reputed medicinal properties, and, in sooth, the water was pleasant to -the taste of man and beast. - -A little beyond was a moated grange belonging to the Abbot of Reading, a -pleasant summer residence in peaceful times; but the days were coming -when men should avoid lonely country habitations; there were a few -invalid monks there, they came forth and gazed upon the party, then -shook their tonsured heads as the burgesses of Wallingford had done. - -Another mile, and they began to ascend the downs, where, according to -tradition, the battle of Æscendune had been fought, in the year of -grace, 871. Arriving at the summit, they looked back at the view: -Wallingford, the town and churches, dominated by the high tower of the -keep, was still in full view, and, beyond, the wavy line of the -Chilterns stretched into the misty distance, as described in the preface -to our tale. - -But most interesting to Osric was the maze of woodland which filled the -country about Aston (East-tun) and Blewbery (Blidberia), for there lay -the hut of his grandfather; and the tears rose to the affectionate lad's -eyes at the thought of the old man's future loneliness, with none but -poor old Judith to console him for the loss of his boy. - -Before them rose Lowbury Hill--dominated then by a watch-tower--which -they ascended and stood on the highest summit of the eastern division of -the Berkshire downs; before them on the south rose the mountainous range -of Highclere, and a thin line of smoke still ascended from the bale-fire -on the highest point. - -Here a horseman was seen approaching, and when he came near enough, a -knight, armed _cap-a-pie_, was disclosed. - -"Friend or foe?" said Alain to his companion. - -"If a foe, I pity him." - -"See, the Baron rides forth alone to meet him!" - -They met about a furlong from the party; entered into long and amicable -conference, and soon returned to the group on the hill; the order -brought news which changed their course, they turned to the west, and -instead of riding for Sussex, followed the track of the Icknield Street -for Devizes and the west. - -This brought them across the scene of the midnight encounter, and -Alain's quick eyes soon detected the traces of the combat. - -"Look, there has been a fight here--see how the ground is trampled, and -here is a broken sword--ah! the ground is soaked with blood--there has -been a gallant tussle here--would I had seen it." - -Osric was not yet so enthusiastic in the love of strife. - -Alain's exclamations brought several of the riders around him; and they -scrutinised the ground closely, and they speculated on the subject. - -The Baron smiled grimly, and thought-- - -"What has become of the corpse?" for he doubted not he had fed fat his -ancient grudge, and slain his foe. - -"Look in yon thicket for the body," he cried. - -They looked, but as our readers anticipate, found nought. - -The Baron wondered, and said a few confidential words to his friend -Milo, which none around heard. - -Shortly afterwards their route led them by Cwichelm's Hlawe, described -before; the Baron halted his party; and then summoning Osric to attend -him, rode into the thicket. - -The reputed witch stood at the door of her cell. - -"So thou art on thy way to battle; the dogs of war are unslipped." - -"Even so, but dost thou know this boy?" - -"Old Sexwulf's grandson, down in the woods; so thou hast got him, ha! -ha! he is in good hands, ha! ha!" - -"What means thy laughter, like the noise of an old croaking crow?" - -"Because thou hast caught him, and the decrees of fate are about to be -accomplished." - -"Retire, Osric, and join the rest." - -"Now, mother, tell me what thou dost mean?" - -"That thy conjunction with this youth bodes thee and thine little -good--the stars have told me that much." - -"Why, what harm can he do _me_, a mere boy?" - -"The free people of old taught their children to sing, 'Tremble, -tyrants; we shall grow up.'" - -"If he proved false, a blow would rid me of so frail an encumbrance." - -"Which thou mightest hesitate to strike." - -"Tell me why; I thought he might be my stolen child, but the lips of old -Sexwulf speak truth, and he swears the lad is his grandson." - -"It is a wise grandfather who knows his own grandson." - -"Thou knowest many things; the boy is so like my poor----" he hesitated, -and suppressed a name; "that, hard as my heart is, he has softened it: -his voice, his manner, his gestures, tell me----" - -"I cannot as yet." - -"Dost thou know?" - -"Only that old Sexwulf would not wilfully deceive." - -"And is that all thou hast to say?" - -"No, wait, keep the boy near thee, thou shalt know in time; thy men are -calling for thee--hark thee, Sir Brian, the men of Donnington are out." - -"That for them," and the Baron snapped his fingers. - -When he rejoined his troop, he found them in a state of great -excitement, which was explained when they pointed to moving objects some -two or three miles away on the downs; the quick eye of the Baron -immediately saw that it was a troop which equalled his own in numbers. - -"The witch spoke the truth," he said; and eager as a war-horse sniffing -the fray afar, he gave the word to ride towards the distant party, which -rapidly rose and became distinct to the sight. - -"I see their pennons, they are the men of Donnington, and their lord is -for King Stephen; now, my men, to redden our bright swords. Osric, thou -art new to all this--Alain, thou art young--stay behind on that mound, -and join us when we have done our work." - -Poor Alain looked grievously hurt. - -"My lord!" - -"Well?" - -"Do let me share the fight!" - -"Thou wilt be killed." - -"I will take my chance." - -"And Osric?" - -"I am not afraid, my lord," said Osric. - -"But thou canst hardly ride, nor knowest not yet the use of lance and -sword; here, old Raoul, stay with this lad." - -"My lord!" - -"And thou, too; well, boy, wilt thou pledge me thy word not (he lowered -his voice) to attempt to escape?" - -He marked a slight hesitation. - -"Remember thy grandfather." - -"My lord, I will do as thou biddest--stay where thou shalt bid me, or -ride with thee." - -"Stay on the crest of yonder hill." - -All this time they had been riding forward, and now the enemy was within -hearing. - -Both parties paused. - -Brian rode forward. - -A knight on the other side did the same. - -"For God and the Empress," said the former. - -"For God and the King," cried the latter. - -Instantly the two charged, and their followers waited to see the result: -the lance of the King's man broke; that of Sir Brian held firm, and -coming full on the breast, unhorsed the other, who fell heavily prone, -on his head, like one who, as old Homer hath it, "seeketh oysters in the -fishy sea." - -The others waited no longer, but eager on either side to share their -leader's fortunes, charged too. Oh, the awful shock as spear met spear; -oh, the crash, the noise, the wild shouts, the splintering of lances, -then the ringing of swords upon armour; the horses caught the enthusiasm -of the moment and bit each other, and struck out with their fore-legs: -it was grand, at least so they said in that iron age. - -But it was soon decided--fortune kept steadfast to her first -inclinations--the troops fared as their leaders had fared--and those -who were left alive of the Donnington men were soon riding southward for -bare life. - -Brian ordered the trumpeter to recall his men from the pursuit. - -"Let them go--I have their leader--he at least shall pay ransom; they -have been good company, and we feel sorry to see them go." - -The poor leader, Sir Hubert of Donnington, the eldest son of the lord of -that ilk, was lifted, half-stunned, upon a horse behind another rider, -while Brian remembered Osric. - -What had been the feelings of the latter? - -Did the reader ever meet that story in St. Augustine's Confessions, of a -young Christian taken against his will to see the bloody sports of the -amphitheatre. His companions dragged him thither, he said they might -have his body, but he shut his eyes and stopped his ears until a louder -shout than usual pierced through the auricular protection--one moment of -curiosity, he opened his eyes, he saw the victor thrust the trident into -the palpitating body of the vanquished, the demon of blood-thirstiness -seized him, he shouted too, and afterwards sought those cruel scenes -from choice, until the grace of God stopped him. - -So now with our Osric. - -He felt no desire at first to join the _mêlée_, indeed, he knew how -helpless he was; but as he gazed a strange, wild longing came over him, -he felt inclined, nay, could hardly restrain himself from rushing in; -but his promise to stay on the hill prevailed over him: perhaps it was -hereditary inclination. - -But after all was over, he saw Alain wiping his bloody sword as he -laughed with savage glee. - -"Look, Osric, I killed one--see the blood." - -Instead of being shocked, as a good boy should have been, Osric envied -him, and determined to spend all the time he possibly could in mastering -the art of jousting and fencing. - -They now rode on, leaving twenty of their own dead on the plain, and -forty of the enemy; but, as Napoleon afterwards said--"You cannot make -an omelette without breaking eggs." - -And now, alas, the eggs were human lives--men made in the image of -God--too little accounted of in those days. - -They now passed Letcombe Castle,--a huge circular camp with trench and -vallum, capable of containing an army; it was of the old British times, -and the mediæval warriors grimly surveyed this relic of primæval war. -Below there lay the town of Wantage,--then strongly walled around,--the -birthplace of Alfred. Three more miles brought them to the Blowing -Stone, above Kingston Lisle, another relic of hoar antiquity; and Alain, -who had been there before, amused Osric by producing that deep hollow -roar, which in earlier days had served to alarm the neighbourhood, as he -blew into the cavity. - -Now the ridgeway bore straight to the highest summit of the whole -range,--the White Horse Hill,--and here they all dismounted, and -tethering their horses, prepared to refresh man and beast. Poor Osric -was terribly sore and stiff, and could not even walk gracefully; he was -still able to join Alain in his laughter, but with less grace than at -first. - -But we must cut this chapter short; suffice it to say, that after a -brief halt they resumed their route; camped that night under the shelter -of a clump of trees on the downs, and the next day, at Devizes, effected -a junction with the troops of Earl Robert of Gloucester, who, having -left his sister safe in Arundel Castle, was on his way to secure -Bristol, attended by only twelve horsemen. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[15] It was a cruciform structure, a huge tower on the intersection of -the arms of the cross, the present chancel was not then in existence, a -smaller sanctuary of Norman architecture supplied its place. The old -church had been destroyed with the village in that Danish invasion of -which we have told in the tale of _Alfgar the Dane_, which took place in -1006, and the place had lain waste till the manor was given to Reading -Abbey, under whose fostering influence it had risen from its ashes. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE HERMITAGE - - -For many days Evroult and Richard, the sons--unhappy, leprous sons--of -Brian Fitz-Count, bore their sad lot with apparent patience in the -lazar-house of Byfield; but their minds were determined, come weal or -woe, they would endeavour to escape. - -"Where there is a will," says an old proverb, "there is a way,"--the -chance Evroult had spoken of soon came. - -It was the hour of evening recreation, and in the spacious grounds -attached to the lazar-house, the lepers were walking listlessly around -the well-trodden paths, in all stages of leprous deformity; it was -curious to note how differently it affected different people; some -walked downcast, their eyes on the ground, studiously concealing their -ghastly wounds; some in a state of semi-idiotcy--no uncommon -result--"moped and mowed"; some, in hopeless despair, sighed and -groaned; and one cried "Lost, lost," as he wrung his hands. - -There were keepers here and there amongst them, too often lepers -themselves. The Chaplain, too, was there, endeavouring to administer -peripatetic consolation first to one, then to another. - -"Well, Richard, well, Evroult, my boys, how are you to-day?" - -"As well as we ever shall be here." - -"I want to get out of this place." - -"And I." - -"Oh will you not get us out? Can you not speak to the governor? see, we -are _nearly_ well." Then Richard looked at his hand, where two fingers -were missing, and sobbed aloud. - -"It is no use, my dear boys, to dash yourselves against the bars of your -cage, like poor silly birds; I fear the time of release will never come, -till death brings it either for you or me--see, I share your lot." - -"But you have had your day in the world, and come here of your own -accord; we are only boys, oh, perhaps with threescore and ten years here -before us, as you say in the Psalms." - -"Nay, few here attain the age the Psalmist gives as the ordinary limit -of human life in his day, and, indeed, few outside in these days."[16] - -"Well, we should have been out of it all, had you not interfered." - -"And where?" - -Echo answered "Where?"--the boys were silent. - -The Chaplain saw that in their present mood he could do no good--he -turned elsewhere. - -Nothing but an intense desire to alleviate suffering had brought him to -Byfield lazar-house. The Christianity of that age was sternly practical, -if superstitious; and with all its superstition it exercised a far more -beneficent influence on society than fifty Salvation Armies could have -done; it led men to remember Christ in all forms of loathsome and cruel -suffering, and to seek Him in the suffering members of His mystical -body; if it led to self-chosen austerities, it also had its heights of -heroic self-immolation for the good of others. - -Such a self-immolation was certainly our Chaplain's. He walked amongst -these unfortunates as a ministering angel; where he could do good he did -it, where consolation found acceptance he gave it, and many a -despairing spirit he soothed with the hope of the sunny land of -Paradise. - -And how he preached to them of Him Who sanctified suffering and made it -the path to glory; how he told them how He should some day change their -vile leprous bodies that He might make them like His own most glorious -Body, until the many, abandoning all hope here, looked forward simply -for that glorious consummation of body and soul in bliss eternal. - - - "Oh! how glorious and resplendent - Shall this body some day be; - Full of vigour, full of pleasure, - Full of health, and strong and free: - When renewed in Christ's own image, - Which shall last eternally." - - -But all this was lost on Evroult and Richard. The inherited instincts of -fierce generations of proud and ruthless ancestors were in them--as -surely as the little tigerling, brought up as a kitten, begins -eventually to bite and tear, so did these poor boys long for sword and -lance--for the life of the wild huntsman or the wilder robber baron. - -Instincts worthy of condemnation, yet not without their redeeming -points; such were all our ancestors once, whether Angle, Saxon, Jute, or -Northman; and the fusion has made the Englishman what he is. - - * * * * * - -The bell began to ring for Vespers; there was quite a quarter of an hour -ere they went into chapel. - -It was a dark autumnal evening, the sun had just gone down suddenly into -a huge bank of dark clouds, and gloom had come upon the earth, as the -two boys slipped into the bushes, which bordered their path, unseen. - -The time seemed ages until the bell ceased and they knew that all their -companions were in chapel, and that they must immediately be missed from -their places. - -Prompt to the moment, Evroult cried "_Now_, Richard," and ran to the -wall; he had woven a rope from his bed-clothes, and concealed it about -his person; he had wrenched a bar from his window, and twisted it into -a huge hook; he now threw it over the summit of the lofty wall, and it -bit--held. - -Up the wall the boys swarmed, at the very moment when the Chaplain -noticed their missing forms in their seats in chapel, and the keepers, -too, who counted their numbers as they went in, found "two short," and -went to search the grounds. - -To search--but not to find. The boys were over the wall, and running for -the woods. - -Oh, how dark and dismal the woods seemed in the gloom. But happily there -was a full moon to come that night, as the boys knew, and they felt also -that the darkness shielded them from immediate pursuit. - -Onward they plunged--through thicket and brake, through firm ground and -swamp, hardly knowing which way they were going, until they came upon a -brook, and sat down on its bank in utter weariness. - -"Oh, Evroult, how shall we find our way? And we have had no supper; I am -getting hungry already," cried the younger boy. - -"Do you not know that all these brooks run to the Cherwell, and the -Cherwell into the Thames? We will keep down the brook till we come to -the river, and then to the river till we come to Oxnaford." - -"Listen, there is the bay of a hound! Oh, Evroult, he will tear us in -pieces! It is that savage mastiff of theirs, 'Tear-'em.' The keepers are -after us. Oh, what shall we do?" - -"Be men--like our father," said the sterner Evroult. - -"But we have no weapons." - -"I have my fist. If he comes at me I will thrust it down his foul -throat, or grasp his windpipe, and strangle him." - -"Evroult, I have heard that they cannot track us in water. Let us walk -down the brook." - -"Oh, there is a fire!" - -"No, it is the moon rising over the trees; that is the light she sends -before her. You are right--now for the brook. Ah! it feels clear and -pebbly, no mud to stick in. Come, Richard! let us start. No, stay, I -remember that if the brute finds blood he will go no farther. Here is my -knife," and the desperate boy produced a little pocket-knife. - -"What are you going to do?" - -"Drop a little blood. There is a big blue vein in my arm." - -And the reckless lad opened a vein in his arm, which bled freely. - -"Let me do the same," cried the other. - -"No; this is enough." And he scattered the blood all about, then looked -out for some "dock-leaf," and bound it over the wound with part of the -cord which had helped them over the wall. - -"Now, that will do. Let us hurry down the brook, Richard, before they -come in sight." - -Such determination had its reward; they left all pursuit behind them, -and heard no more of the hound. - -Tired out at last, they espied with joy an old barn by the brook side, -turned in, found soft hay, and, reckless of all consequences, slept till -the sun was high in the heavens. - -Then they awoke, and lo! a gruff man was standing over them. - -"Who are you, boys?" - -"The sons of the Lord of Wallingford." - -"How came you here?" - -"Lost in the woods." - -"But Wallingford is far away to the south." - -"We are on our road home; can you give us some food?" - -"If you will come to my house, you shall have what I can give you. Why! -what is the matter with that hand, that cheek? Good heavens, ye are -lepers; keep off!" - -The poor boys stood rooted to the spot with shame. - -"And ye have defiled my hay--no one will dare touch it. I have a great -mind to shut you both in, and burn you and the hay together." - -"That you shall not," said the fierce Evroult, and dashed through the -open door, almost upsetting the man, who was so afraid of touching the -lepers that he could offer no effective resistance, and the two got off. - -"That was a narrow escape, but how shall we get food?" - -A few miles down the brook they began to feel very faint. - -"See, there is a farm; let us ask for some milk and bread." - -"Richard, you are not marked as I am, you go first." - -A poor sort of farm in the woods--farmhouse, ricks, stables, barns, of -rude construction. A woman was milking the cows in a hovel with open -door. - -"Please give us some milk," said Richard, standing in the doorway; "we -are very hungry and thirsty." - -"Drink from the bowl. How came you in the woods?" - -"Lost." - -"And there is another--your brother, is he?--round the door. Drink and -pass it to him." - -They both drank freely, Evroult turning away the bad cheek. - -As Richard gave back the bowl, the woman espied his hands. - -"Mother of mercy! why, where are your fingers? you are a leper, out! -out! John, turn out the dogs." - -"Nay! nay! we will go; only throw us a piece of bread." - -"Why are you not shut up? Good Saints!" - -"Please do not be hard upon us--give us some bread." - -"Will you promise to go away?" - -"Yes, if you will give us some bread." - -"Keep off, then;" and the good woman, a little softened, gave them some -oaten cakes, just as her husband appeared in the distance coming in from -the fields. - -"Now off, before any harm come of it; go back to Byfield lazar-house." - -"It was so dreadful; we have run away." - -"Poor boys, so young too; but off, or my good man may set the dogs at -you." - -And they departed, much refreshed. - -"Oh Evroult, how every one abhors us!" - -"It is very hard to bear." - -At midday, still following the brook, they were saluted with a stern -"Stand, and deliver!" - -A fellow in forester's garb, with bow and arrow so adjusted that he -could send the shaft in a moment through any body, opposed their -passage. - -"We are only poor boys." - -"Whither bound?" - -"For Wallingford." - -"Why, that is three days' journey hence; come with me." - -He led them into an open glade; there was a large fire over which a -cauldron hung, emitting a most savoury stew as it bubbled, and stretched -around the fire were some thirty men, evidently outlaws of the Robin -Hood type. - -"What are these boys?" - -"Wanderers in the woods, who say they want to go to Wallingford." - -"Whose sons are ye?" - -"Of Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of Wallingford." - -"By all the Saints! then my rede is to hang them for their father's -sake, and have no more of the brood. Have you any brothers? Good -heavens! they are lepers." - -"Send an arrow through each." - -"For shame, Ulf, the hand of God hath touched them; but depart." - -"Give us some food." - -"Not unless you promise to go back to the lazar-house, from which we see -you have escaped." - -Poor boys, even hungry as they were, they would not promise. - -"Put some bread on that stump," said the leader, "and let them take it; -come not near: now off!" - -It was the last food the poor boys got for many hours, for every one -abhorred their presence and drove them off with sticks and stones, -until, wearied out, Richard sank fainting on the ground on the eventide -of that weary day. - -Evroult was at the end of his resources, and at last felt beaten; tears -were already trickling down his manly young face. - -An aged man bent over them. - -"Why do you weep, my son? what is the matter with your companion?" - -It was an old man who spoke, in long coarse robe, and a rope around his -waist. Evroult recognised the hermit. - -"We are lepers," said he despairingly. - -The old man bent down and kissed their sores. - -"I see Christ in you; come to my humble cell--there you shall have food, -fire, and shelter." - -He helped them to ascend the rocky side of the valley, until they came -to a natural cave half concealed by herbage--an artificial front had -been built of stone, with door and window; a spring of water bubbled -down the rock, to find its destination in the brook below. Far over the -forest they could see a river, red in the light of the setting sun, and -the buildings of a town of some size in the dim distance. The river, -although they knew it not, was the Cherwell, the town, Banbury. - -He led them and seated them by a fire, gave them food, then, after he -had heard their tale-- - -"My dear children," he said, "if you dread the lazar-house so much, ye -may stay with me while ye will; go not forth again into the cruel, cruel -world, poor wounded lambs." - -And the good man put them to bed upon moss and leaves. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[16] Too true. Bad sanitary arrangements causing constant plague and -fever, ignorance of medicine, frequent famines, the constant casualties -of war, had brought men to think fifty years a ripe old age in the -twelfth century. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -OSRIC AT HOME - - -It is not our intention to follow Osric's career closely during the -early period of his pagehood under the fostering care of Brian -Fitz-Count and the influence of Alain, but we shall briefly dwell in -this chapter upon the great change which was taking place in his life -and character. - -When we first met him, he was simple to a fault, but he had the sterling -virtues of truthfulness and obedience, purity and unselfishness, -sedulously cultivated in a congenial soil by his grandfather, one of -Nature's noblemen, although not ranked amongst the Norman _noblesse_. - -But it was the virtue which had never yet met real temptation. -Courageous and brave he was also, but still up to the date of the -adventure with the deer, he had never struck a blow in anger, or harmed -a fellow-creature, save the beasts of the chase whom he slew for food, -not for sport. - -Then came the great change in his life: the gentle, affectionate lad was -thrown into the utterly worldly and impure atmosphere of a Norman -castle--into a new world; thoughts and emotions were aroused to which he -had been hitherto a perfect stranger, and, strange to say, he felt -unsuspected traits in his own character, and desires in his own unformed -mind answering to them. - -For instance, he who had never raised a hand in angry strife, felt the -homicidal impulse rush upon him during the skirmish we described in a -previous chapter. He longed to take part in the frays, to be where blows -were going; thenceforward he gave himself up with ardour to the study -of war; he spent all his spare time in acquiring the arts of fence and -the management of weapons; and Brian smiled grimly as he declared that -Osric would soon be a match for Alain. - -But it was long before the Baron allowed him to take part in actual -bloodshed, and then only under circumstances which did not involve -needless risk, or aught more than the ordinary chances of mortal combat, -mitigated by whatsoever aid his elders could afford; for Brian loved the -boy with a strange attachment; the one soft point in his armour of proof -was his love for Osric--not a selfish love, but a parental one, as if -God had committed the boy to his charge in the place of those he had -lost. - -Yet he did not believe Osric was his long-lost son: no, that child was -dead and gone,--the statements of the old man were too explicit to allow -of further doubt. - -Osric was present when that brutal noble, Robert Fitz-Hubert, stormed -Malmesbury; there he beheld for the first time the horrors of a _sack_; -there he saw the wretched inhabitants flying out of their burning homes -to fall upon the swords of the barbarous soldiery. At the time he felt -that terrible thirst so like that of a wild beast,--which in some modern -sieges, such as Badajos, has turned even Englishmen into wild and -merciless savages,--and then when it was over, he felt sick and loathed -himself. - -He was fond of Alain, who returned the preference, yet Alain was a bad -companion, for he was an adept in the vices of his day--not unlike our -modern ones altogether, yet developed in a different soil, and of ranker -growth. - -Therefore Osric soon had many secrets he could not confide to his -grandfather, whom he was permitted to see from time to time,--a great -concession on the part of the Lord of Wallingford, who craved all the -boy's love for himself. - -"Thou art changed, my dear Osric," said his grandfather on one of these -occasions, a fine Sunday morn when Osric had leave of absence. - -They were on their way through the tangled wood to the old Saxon Church -of Aston Upthorpe, in which King Alfred was said to have heard Mass.[17] - - - "The woods were God's first temples, ere man raised - The architrave." - - -The very fountains babbled in His honour Who made them to laugh and -sing, the birds sang their matin songs in His praise--this happy -woodland was exempted from all those horrors of war which already -devastated the rest of England, for it was safe under the protection of -Brian, to whom, wiser than Wulfnoth of Compton, it paid tribute; and at -this juncture Maude and her party were supreme, for it was during -Stephen's captivity at Bristol. - -"Thou art changed, my dear Osric." - -"How, my grandsire?" - -"Thy face is the same, yet not the same, even as Adam's face was the -same, yet not the same, after he learned the secret of evil, which drove -him from Paradise." - -"And I too have been driven from Paradise: my Eden was here." - -"Wouldst thou return if thou couldst; if Brian consented to release -thee." And the old man looked the youth full in the face. - -Osric was transparently truthful. - -"No, grandfather," he said, and then blushed. - -"Ah, thou art young and lovest adventure and the gilded panoply of war: -what wonder! such was thy father, Wulfnoth of Compton, of whom thou art -the sole surviving child." - -"Tell me, grandfather, is he dead--is my poor father dead?" - -"That is a secret which may not be committed even to thee; were he -alive, he would curse thee, did he know thou wert fighting under Brian's -banner." - -"It was to save thy life." - -"I know it, my child, and would be the last to blame thee, yet I am -glad thy father knows it not. He has never inquired concerning thee." - -"Then he is alive?" - -"Did I say he was? I meant not to do so--seek not to know--knowledge is -sometimes dangerous." - -"Well, if he is alive," said Osric, a little piqued, "he does not care -half so much for me as does my Lord of Wallingford. _He_ would have -asked about me." - -"He treats thee well then." - -"As if he loved me." - -"It is strange--passing strange; as soon should I expect a wolf to -fondle a kid." - -"I am not a kid, at least not now." - -"What then, dear boy? a wolf?" - -"More like one, I think, than a kid." - -"And thou hast looked on bloodshed with unflinching eye and not -shuddered?" - -"I shuddered just at first; but I have got used to it: you have often -said war is lawful." - -"Yes, for one's country, as when Alfred fought against the Danes or -Harold at Senlac. So it was noble to die as died my father,--your own -ancestor, Thurkill of Kingestun; so, had I been old enough to have gone -with him, should I have died." - -"And you took part in the skirmishes which followed Senlac?" - -"I fought under the hero Hereward." - -"And did _you_ shudder to look upon war?" - -"Only as a youth naturally does the first time he sees the blood of man -poured forth like water--it is not for that I would reproach thee, only -_we_ fought for liberty; and it is better to die than to live a life of -slavery,--happier far were they who fell around our noble Harold on the -hill of Senlac, than they who survived to see the desolation and misery, -the chains and slavery which awaited the land; but, my child, what are -you fighting for? surely one tyrant is no better than another, Maude or -Stephen, what does it matter?" - -"Save, grandfather, that Maude is the descendant of our old English -kings--her great-grandfather was the Ironside of whose valiant deeds I -have often heard you boast." - -"True, my son, and therefore of the _two_, I wish her success; but she -also is the grandchild of the Conqueror, who was the scourge of God to -this poor country." - -"In that case God sent him." - -"Deliver my soul from the ungodly, which is a sword of Thine," quoted -the pious old man, well versed in certain translations from the Psalms. - -"My grandfather, I fought against it as long as I could, as thou -knowest; I would have died, and did brave the torture, rather than -consent to become a page of the Lord of Wallingford; and when I did so -become to save _thy_ life, I felt bound in honour to be faithful, and so -to the best of my power I have been." - -"And now thou lovest the yoke, and wouldst not return?" - -Again the youth coloured. - -"Grandfather, I cannot help it--excitement, adventure, the glory of -victory, the joy even of combat, has that attraction for me of which our -bards have sung, in the old songs of the English Chronicles which you -taught me around the hearth." - -"The lion's cub is a lion still; let him but taste blood, and the true -nature comes out." - -"Better be a lion than a deer--better eat than be eaten, grandfather." - -"I know not," said the old man pensively, "but, my child, never draw thy -sword to oppress thy poor countrymen, unless thou wouldst have thy -father curse thee." - -"He is not dead then?" - -"I said not so." - -"Why not tell me whether my father lives?" - -"Because in thy present position, which thou canst not escape, the -knowledge would be dangerous to thee." - -"How came my father to leave me in thy care? how did my mother die? why -am I the only one left of my kin?" - -"All this I am bound not to tell thee, my child; try and forget it all -until thou art of full age." - -"And then?" - -"Perchance even _then_ it were better to let the dead bury their dead." - -Osric sighed. - -"Why am I the child of mystery? why have I not a surname like my -compeers? they mock me now and then, and I have had two or three sharp -fights in consequence; at last the Baron found it out, for he saw the -marks upon my face, and he spoke so sternly to them that they ceased to -gibe." - -"My dear boy, commit it all to thy Heavenly Father; thou dost not forget -thy prayers?" - -"Not when I am in the Castle chapel." - -"And not at other times?" - -"It is impossible. I sleep amidst other pages. I just cross myself when -I think of it, and say a Pater and an Ave." - -"And how often dost thou go to Mass?" - -"When we are not out on an expedition, each Sunday." - -"Does the Baron go to church with you?" - -"Yes, but he does not believe much in it." - -"I feared not: and thy companions?" - -"They often laugh and jest during Matins or Mass." - -"And you?" - -"I try not to join them, because it would grieve you." - -"There should be a higher motive." - -"I know it." - -"And with regard to other trials and temptations, are your companions -good lads?" - -Osric laughed aloud. - -"No, grandfather, anything but that." - -"And you?" - -"I go to the good priest of St. Mary's to Confession, and that wipes it -off." - -"Nay, my child, not without penitence, and penitence is shown by -ceasing to sin." - - ---- - -Now they had arrived at the rustic church of East-town, or Aston, on the -slope of the old Roman camp, which uprose above the forest. Many -woodsmen and rustics of the humble village were there. It was a simple -service: rude village psalmody; primitive vestments and ritual, quite -unlike the gorgeous scenes then witnessed in cathedral or abbey church, -in that age of display. Osmund of Sarum had not made his influence felt -much here, although the church was in the diocese he once ruled. All was -of the old Anglo-Saxon type, as when Alfred was alive, and England free. -There was not a Norman there to criticise; they shunned the churches to -which the rustics resorted, and where the homilies were in the English -tongue, which they would not trouble to learn. - -Poor Osric! his whole character and disposition may be plainly enough -traced in the conversation given above. The reader must not condemn the -grandfather, old Sexwulf, for his reticence concerning the mystery of -Osric's birth. When Wulfnoth of Compton brought the babe to his door, it -was with strict injunctions not to disclose the secret till he gave -permission. The old grandfather did not understand the reasons why so -much mystery was made of the matter, but he felt bound to obey the -prohibition. - -Hence all that Osric knew was that he was the last survivor of his -family, and that all besides him had perished in the wars, save a father -of whom little was known, except that he manifested no interest -whatsoever in his son. - -Perhaps the reader can already solve the riddle; we have given hints -enough. Only he must remember that neither Brian nor Sexwulf had his -advantages. - -The service of the village church sounded sweetly in the ears of Osric -that day. He was affected by the associations which cling about the -churches where we once knelt by a father or mother's side; and Osric -felt like a child again as he knelt by his grandfather--it might be for -the last time, for the possibility of sudden death on the battle-field, -of entering a deadly fray never to emerge alive, of succumbing beneath -the sword or lance of some stronger or more fortunate adversary, was -ever present to the mind; yet Osric did not fear death on the -battle-field. There was, and is, an unaccountable glamour about it: men -who would not enter a "pest-house" for the world, would volunteer for a -"forlorn hope." - -But it is quite certain that on that day all the religious impulses -Osric had ever felt, were revived, and that he vowed again and again to -be a true knight, _sans peur et sans reproche_, fearing nought but God, -and afraid only of sin and shame, as the vow of chivalry imported, if -knight he was ever allowed to become. - -_Ite missa est_[18]--it was over, and they left the rustic church. -Outside the neighbours clustered and chatted as they do nowadays. They -congratulated Sexwulf on his handsome grandson, and flattered the boy as -they commented on his changed appearance, but there always seemed -something they left unsaid. - -Neither was their talk cheerful; it turned chiefly upon wars and rumours -of wars. They had been spared, but there were dismal tales of the -country around--of murder and arson, of fire and sword, of worse scenes -yet behind, and doom to come. - -They hoped to gather in _that_ harvest, whether another would be theirs -to reap was very doubtful. And so at last they separated, and through -some golden fields of corn, for it was nearly harvest time, Sexwulf and -his grandson wended their way to their forest home. It was a day long -remembered, for it was the very last of a long series of peaceful -Sundays in the forest. Osric felt unusually happy that afternoon, as he -returned home with his grandfather, full of the strength of new -resolutions with which we are told the way to a place, unmentionable to -ears polite, is paved; and his manner to his grandfather was so sweet -and affectionate, that the dear old man was delighted with his boy. - -The evening was spent at home, for there was no Vesper service at the -little chapel--amidst the declining shadows of the trees, the solemn -silence of the forest, the sweet murmuring of the brook. The old man -slept in the shade, seated upon a mossy bank. Osric slept too, with his -head pillowed upon his grandfather's lap; while in wakeful moments the -aged hands played with his graceful locks. Old Judith span in the -doorway and watched the lad. - -"He is as bonny as he is brave, and as brave as he is bonny, the dear -lad," she said. - -Then came the shadows of night. The old man brought forth his -dilapidated harp, and the three sang the evening hymn to its -accompaniment-- - - - "Te lucis ante terminum," - - -and repeated the psalm _Qui habitat_; then with a short prayer, not -unlike our "Lighten our darkness," indeed its prototype, they retired to -sleep, while the wind sighed a requiem about them through the arches of -the forest, and dewy odours stole through the crevices of the hut-- - - - "The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below." - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[17] It still stands, one of the oldest of our old village churches. - -[18] _Ite missa est_, _i.e._ the concluding words of the Mass. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE HERMITAGE - - -Nothing is more incomprehensible to the Christians of the nineteenth -century than the lives of the hermits, and the general verdict passed -upon them is, that they were useless, idle men, who fled from the world -to avoid its work, or else were possessed with an unreasoning -superstition which turned them into mere fanatics. - -But this verdict is one-sided and unjust, and founded upon ignorance of -the world of crime and violence from which these men fled,--a world -which seemed so utterly abandoned to cruelty and lust that men despaired -of its reformation; a world wherein men had no choice between a life of -strife and bloodshed, and the absolute renunciation of society; a world -wherein there was no way of escape but to flee to the deserts and -mountains, or enter the monastic life, for those, who, as ancient -Romans, might have committed suicide, but as Christians, felt they -_must_ live, till God in His mercy called them hence. - -And so while the majority of those who sought God embraced what is -commonly called, _par excellence_, the religious life, others sought Him -in solitude and silence; wherein, however, they were followed by that -universal reverence which men, taught by the legends of the Church, -bestowed on the pious anchorite. - -Poverty, celibacy, self-annihilation, were their watchwords; and in -contemplation of death, judgment, Hell, and Heaven, these lonely hours -were passed. - -Such a man was Meinhold, with whom the youthful sons of Brian -Fitz-Count had found refuge. From childhood upwards he had loathed the -sin he saw everywhere around him, and thence he sought the monastic -life; but as ill-hap would have it, found a monastery in which the monks -were forgetful of their vows, and slaves of sin, somewhat after the -fashion of those described in Longfellow's "Golden Legend," for such -there were, although, we believe, they were but exceptions to the -general rule-- - - - "Corruptio optimi est pessima." - - -The corruption of that which is very good is commonly the worst of all -corruption: if monks did not rise above the world, they fell beneath it. -Meinhold sternly rebuked them; and, in consequence, when one day it was -his turn to celebrate the Eucharist, they poisoned the wine he should -have used. By chance he was prevented from saying the Mass that day, and -a poor young friar who took his place fell down dead on the steps of the -altar. Meinhold shook off the dust of his feet and left them, and they -in revenge said a Mass for the Dead on his behalf, with the idea that it -would hasten his demise; for if not religious they were superstitious. - -Then he determined that he would have nought more to do with his -fellow-men, and sought God's first temples, the forests. In the summer -time he wandered in its glades, reciting his Breviary, until he found -out a place where he might lay his head. - -A range of limestone hills had been cleft in the course of ages by a -stream, which had at length scooped out a valley, like unto the "chines" -in the Isle of Wight, and now rushed brawling into the river below, -adown the vale it had made. In the rock, on one side of the vale, -existed a large cave, formed by the agency of water, in the first place, -but now high and dry. It had not only one, but several apartments; -cavern opened out of cavern, and so dark and devious were their -windings, that men feared to penetrate them. - -Hither, for the love of God, came Meinhold. He had found the place he -desired--a shelter from the storms of Heaven. In the outer cave he -placed a rude table and seat, which he made for himself; and in an inner -cavern he made a bed of flags and leaves. - -In the corner of the cell he placed his crucifix. Wandering in the woods -he found the skeleton of some poor hapless wayfarer, long since denuded -of its flesh. He placed the skull beneath the crucifix as a _memento -mori_, not without breathing a prayer for the poor soul to whom it had -once belonged. - -Here he read his Breviary, which, let the reader remember, was mainly -taken from the Word of God, psalms and lessons forming three-fourths of -the contents of the book, arranged, as in our Prayer Book, for the -Christian year. It was his sole possession,--a bequest of a deceased -friend, worth its weight in gold in the book market, but far more -valuable in Meinhold's eyes. - -Here, then, he passed a blameless if monotonous existence, to which but -one objection could be made--it was a _selfish_ life. Even if the -selfishness were of a high order, man was not sent into the world simply -to save, each one, his own soul. The life of the Chaplain at Byfield -lazar-house showed how men could abjure self far more truly than in a -hermitage. - -Sometimes thoughts of this kind passed through the mind of our hermit -and drove him distracted, until his cry became, - - - "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" - - -And while he thus sought to know God's Will, the two poor fugitives, -Evroult and Richard, came into his way. - -Poor wounded lambs! no fear had he of their terrible malady. The Lord -had sent them to him, and the hermit felt his prayers were answered. -Wearied out and tired by their long day's journey, the poor boys -passively accepted his hospitality; and they ate of his simple fare, -and slept on his bed of leaves as if it had been a couch of down; nor -did they awake till the sun was high in the heavens. - -The hermit had been up since sunrise. He had long since said his Matins -and Lauds from his well-thumbed book; and then kindling a fire in a sort -of natural hearth beneath a hole in the rock, which opened to the upper -air, he roasted some oatmeal cakes, and went out to gather blackberries -and nuts, as a sort of dessert after meat, for the boys. It was all he -had to offer. - -At last they awoke. - -"Where are we, Evroult?" - -It was some moments before they realised where they were--not an -uncommon thing when one awakes in the morning in a strange place. - -Soon, however, they bethought themselves of the circumstances under -which they stood, and rising from their couch, arranged their apparel, -passed their fingers through their hair in lieu of comb, rubbed their -sleepy eyes, and came into the outer cave, where the hermit crouched -before the fire acting the part of cook. - -He heard them, and stood up. - -"_Pax vobiscum_, my children, ye look better this morning; here is your -breakfast, come and eat it, and then we will talk." - -"Have you no meat?" Evroult was going to say, but the natural instinct -of a gentleman checked him. They had fed well at the lazar-house, but -better oaten cakes and liberty. - -"Oh what nice nuts," said Richard; "and blackberries, too." - -The hermit's eyes sparkled as he noted the sweet smile which accompanied -the words. The face of the younger boy was untouched by the leprosy. -They satisfied their hunger, and then began to talk. - -"Father, how long may we stay here?" - -"As long as you like--God has sent you hither." - -"But we want to get to Wallingford Castle." - -"No! no! brother: let us stay here," said the younger and milder boy; -"think how every one hates us; that terrible day yesterday--oh, it was a -terrible day! they treated us as if we had been mad dogs or worse." - -"Yes, we will stay, father, at least for a while, if you will let us; we -are not a poor man's sons--not English, but Normans; our father is----" - -"Never mind, my child--gentle or simple is all one to God, and all one -here. Did your father then send you to the lazar-house?" - -"Yes, three years agone." - -"And has he ever sought you since?" - -"No, he has never been to see us--he has forgotten us; we were there for -life; we knew and felt it, and only a week ago strove to drown ourselves -in the deep pond." - -"That was very wrong--no one may put down the burden of the flesh, till -God give him leave." - -"Do you think you can cure us?" - -"Life and death, sickness and health, are all in God's hands. I will -try." - -Their poor wan faces lit up with joy. - -"And this hole in my cheek?" - -"But my poor fingers, two are gone; you cannot give them me back," and -Richard burst into tears. - -"Come, my child, you must not cry--God loves you and will never leave -nor forsake you. Every cloud has its bright side; what if you have -little part in the wicked world?" - -"But I _love_ the world," said Evroult. - -"Love the world! Do you really love fighting and bloodshed, fire and -sword? for they are the chief things to be found therein just now." - -"Yes I do; my father is a warrior, and so would I be," said the -unblushing Evroult. - -"And thou, Richard?" - -"I hardly know," said he of the meeker spirit and milder mood. - -"Come, ye children, and hearken unto me, and I will teach you the fear -of the Lord." - -"Slaves fear." - -"Ah, but it is not the fear of a _slave_, but a _son_ of which I -speak--that fear which is the beginning of wisdom; and which, indeed, -every true knight should possess if he fulfil the vows of chivalry. But -I will not say more now. Wander in the woods if you like, just around -the cave, or down in the valley; gather nuts or blackberries, but go not -far, for fear ye meet men who may ill-treat you." - -Then the hermit went forth, and threw the crumbs out of his cave; the -birds came in flocks. Evroult caught up a stone. - -"Nay, my child, they are _my_ birds; we hurt nothing here. See! come, -pet! birdie!" and a large blackbird nestled on his shoulder, and picked -at a crust which the hermit took in his hand. - -"They all love me, as they love all who are kind to them. Birds and -beasts are alike welcome here; some wolves came in the winter, but they -did me no harm." - -"I should have shot them, if I had had a bow." - -"Nay, my child, you must not slay my friends." - -"But may we not kill rabbits or birds to eat?" - -"No flesh is eaten here; we sacrifice no life of living thing to sustain -our own wretched selves." - -"No meat! not of any kind! not even on feast-days!" - -"My boy, you will be better without it--it nourishes all sorts of bad -passions, pride, cruelty, impurity, all are born of the flesh; and -_see_, it is not needed. I am well and strong and never ill." - -"But I should soon be," said Evroult. - -"Nay, I like cakes, nuts, and blackberries better," said Richard. - -"Quite right, my son; now go and play in the valley beneath, until -noonday, when you may take your noon meat." - -They lay in the shade of a tree. It was one of the last days of summer, -and all seemed pleasant--the murmur of the brook and the like. - -"I can never bear this long," said Evroult. - -"I think it very pleasant," said Richard; "do not ask me to go away." - -Evroult made no reply. - -"It is no use, brother," said Richard, "_no_ use; we can never be -knights and warriors unless we recover of our leprosy; and so the good -God has given us a home and a kind friend, and it is far better than the -lazar-house." - -"But our father?" - -"He has forsaken us, cast us off. We should never get out with his -permission. No! be content, let us stay here--yesterday frightened -me--we should never reach Wallingford alive." - -And so Evroult gave way, and tried his best to be content--tried to -learn of Meinhold, tried to do without meat, to love birds and beasts, -instead of shooting them, tried to learn his catechism; yes, there was -always a form of catechetical instruction for the young, taught -generally _viva voce_, and the good hermit gave much time to the boys -and found delight therein. - -Richard consented to learn to read and write; Evroult disdained it, and -would not learn. - -So the year passed on; autumn deepened into winter. There was plenty of -fuel about, and the boys suffered little from cold; they hung up skins -and coverings over the entrances to the caves, and kept the draught out. - -There was a mystery about those inner caves; the hermit would never let -them enter beyond the two or three outer ones--those dark and dismal -openings were, he assured them, untenanted; but their windings were such -that the boys might easily lose their way therein, and never get out -again--he thought there were precipitous gulfs into which they might -fall. - -But sometimes at night, when all things were still, the strangest sounds -came from the caves, like the sobbings of living things, the plaintive -sigh, the hollow groan: and the boys heard and shuddered. - -"It is only the wind in the hollows of the earth," said Meinhold. - -"How does it get in?" asked the boys. - -"There are doubtless many crevices which we know not." - -"I thought there were ghosts there." - -"Nay, my child. It is only the wind: sleep in peace." - -But as the winter storms grew frequent, these deep sighs and hollow -groans seemed to increase, and the boys lay and shuddered, while -sometimes even the hermit was fain to cross himself, and say a prayer -for any poor souls who might be in unrest. - -The winter was long and cold, but spring came at last. The change of air -had worked wonders in the general health of the boys, but the leprosy -had not gone: no, it could not really be said that there was any change -for the better. - -Only the poor boys were far happier than at Byfield; they entered into -the ideas and ways of the hermit more and more. Evroult at last -consented to learn to read, and found time pass more rapidly in -consequence. - -But he could not do one thing--he could not subdue those occasional -bursts of passion which seemed to be rooted in the very depths of his -nature. When things crossed him he often showed his fierce disposition, -and terrified his brother; who, although brave enough,--how could one of -such a breed be a coward,--stood in awe of the hermit, and saw things -with the new light the Gospel afforded more and more each day. - -One day the old hermit read to them the passage wherein it is written, -"If a man smite you on one cheek, turn to him the other." Evroult could -not restrain his dissent. - -"If I did that I should be a coward, and my father, for one, would -despise me. If _that_ is the Gospel, I shall never be a real Christian, -nor are there many about." - -"I would, my son, that you had grace, to think differently. These be -counsels of perfection, given by our Lord Himself to His disciples." - -"I could not turn the other cheek to my enemy to save my life." - -"Then let him smite you on the _same_ one." - -"I could not do that either," said Evroult more sharply. - -"If you cannot, at least do not return evil for evil." - -"I should if I had the power." - -"My child, it is the devil in you which makes you say that." - -Evroult turned red with passion, and Richard began to cry. - -"Nay, my child, do not cry; that is useless. Pray for him," said the -hermit. - -Another time Evroult craved flesh. - -"No, my son," said Meinhold, "when a man fills himself with flesh, -straightway the great vices bubble out. I remember a monk who one Lent -went secretly and bought some venison from a wicked gamekeeper, and put -it in his wallet; when lo! as he was returning home, the dogs, smelling -the flesh, fell upon him, and tore him up as well as the meat." - -"Why is it wrong to eat meat? The Chaplain at Byfield told me that the -Bible said it was lawful at proper times, and this is not Lent." - -"It is always Lent here,--in a hermit's cell,--and it is a duty to be -contented with one's food. I knew a monk who grumbled at his fare and -said he would as soon eat toads; and lo! the just God did not disappoint -him of his desire. For a month and more his cell was filled with toads. -They got into his soup, they jumped upon his plate, they filled his bed, -until I think he would have died, had not all the brethren united in -prayer that he might be free from the scourge." - -Evroult laughed merrily at this, and forgot his craving. In short, the -old man was so loving and kind, and so transparently sincere, that he -could not be angry long. - -Another fault Evroult had was vanity. Once he was admiring himself in -the mirror of a stream, for he really was, but for the leprosy, a -handsome lad. "Ah, my child," said Meinhold, "thou art like a house -which has a gay front, but the thieves have got in by the back door." - -"Nay," said poor Evroult, putting his hand to his hollowed cheek, "they -have broken through the front window." - -"Ah, what of that; the house shall be set in order by and by, if thou -art a good lad." - -He meant in Heaven. But Evroult only sighed. Heaven seemed to him far -off: his longings were of the earth. - -And Richard: well, that supernatural influence we call "grace" had found -him in very deed. He grew less and less discontented with his lot; -murmured no more about the lost fingers; scarcely noticed the fact that -the others were going; but drank in all the hermit's talk about the life -beyond, with the growing conviction that there alone should he regain -even the perfection of the body. One effect of his touching resignation -was this, that the hermit conceived so much love towards him, that he -had to pray daily against idolatry, as he fancied the affection for an -earthly object must needs be, and so restrained it that there was little -fear of his spoiling the boy. - -The hermit, who, as we have seen, was a priest, had hitherto been -restrained by the canons from saying Mass alone, and had sought some -rustic church for Communion. Of course he could not take the young -lepers there, so he celebrated the Holy Mysteries in a third cave, -fitted up as best it might be for a chapel, and the boys assisted. One -would think Nature had designed this third cave for a chapel. There was -a natural recess for the altar; there were fantastic pillars like those -in a cathedral, only more irregular, supporting the roof, which was -lofty; and stalactites, graceful as the pendants in an ice-cavern, hung -from above. - -They never saw other human beings, save now and then some grief-stricken -soul came for spiritual advice and assistance, always given without -their dwelling, with the stream between the hermit and the seeker. For -leprosy was known to be in the cave, and it was commonly reported that -Meinhold had paid the natural penalty of his self-devotion. - -It was too true. - -One day Evroult saw him looking at a red burning spot on his palm. - -He recognised it and burst into tears. - -"Father, you have given yourself for us: I wish the dogs had torn me -before I came here." - -"Christ gave Himself for me," said Meinhold quietly. - -"Did you not know it, Evroult? I knew it long ago," said Richard -quietly. It seemed natural to him that one who loved the Good Shepherd -should give his life for the sheep. But the sweet smile with which he -looked into the hermit's face was quite as touching as Evroult's tears. - -The hermit was quite indifferent to the fact. - -"As well this as any other way," he said; yet the affection of the boys -was pleasant to him. - -They lacked not for food. The people of the neighbouring farms, some -distance across the forest, sent presents of milk and eggs and fruit -from time to time, and of other necessaries. They had once been boldly -offered: now they were set down on the other side of the stream and -left. - -Occasionally hunters--the neighbouring barons--broke the silence with -hound and horn. They generally avoided the hermit's glen--conspicuously -devoted to the peace of God; but once a poor flying stag, pursued by the -hounds, came tearing down the vale. Evroult glistened with animation: he -would have rushed on in the train of the huntsmen, but the hermit -restrained him. - -"They would bid their dogs tear you," he said, "when they saw you were -a leper." Then he continued, "Ah, my child, it is a sad sight: sin -brought all this into the world,--God's creatures delighting to rend -each other; so will the fiends hunt the souls of the wicked after death, -until they drive them into the lake of fire." - -"Ah, here comes the poor deer," said Richard, who had caught the -hermit's love of all that moved. "See, he has turned: open the door, -father." - -The deer actually scaled the plateau, wild with terror,--its eyes -glaring, the sweat bedewing its limbs; and it rushed through the opened -door of the cave. - -"Close the door--the dogs will be here." - -The dogs came in truth, and raved about the closed door until the -huntsmen came up, when the hermit emerged upon a ledge above. - -"Where is our deer? hast thou seen it, father?" - -"It has taken sanctuary." - -They looked at each other. - -"Nay, father, sanctuary is not for such creatures: drive it forth." - -"God forbid! the shadow of the Cross protects it. Call off your dogs and -go your way." - -"Let us force the door," said a rough sportsman. - -"Accursed be he who does so; his light shall be extinguished in -darkness," said the hermit. - -"Come, there are more deer than one;" and the knight called off his dogs -with great difficulty. - -"Thou hast done well: so shall it be for thy good in time of need, Sir -Knight." - -"I would sooner fight the deadliest fight I have ever fought than -violate that sanctuary," said the latter; "a curse would be sure to -follow." - -When the hunters had at last taken themselves away, dogs and all, and -the discontented whines and howls of the hounds and the crack of the -huntsman's whip had ceased to disturb the silence of the dell, the -hermit and the boys went in to look at the deer: he had thrown himself -down, or fallen, panting, in the boys' bed of leaves, and turned piteous -yet confiding eyes on them, large and lustrous, which seemed to implore -pity, and to say, "I know you will not let them hurt me." - -The better instinct of Evroult was touched. - -"Well, my son," said the hermit, "dost thou still crave for flesh? Shall -we kill him and roast some venison collops?" - -"No," said Evroult, with energy. - -"Ah, I thought so, thou art learning compassion: 'Blessed are the -merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.'" - -"Brother," said Richard, "let us try and get that blessing." - -Evroult pressed his hand. - -And when it was dark and all was quiet, they let the deer go. The poor -beast, as if it had reason, almost refused to depart, and licked their -hands as if it knew its protectors, as doubtless it did. - -But we must close this chapter, having begun the sketch of a life which -continued uneventfully for two full years. - - ---- - -Here ends the first part of our tale. We must leave the boys with the -good hermit; Osric learning the usages of war, and other things, under -the fostering care of Brian Fitz-Count; Wulfnoth as a novice at -Dorchester; and so allow a period to pass ere our scattered threads -reunite. - - - - -CHAPTER XV[19] - -THE ESCAPE FROM OXFORD CASTLE - - -Two years had passed away, and it was the last week of Advent, in the -year of our Lord 1141. - -The whole land lay under a covering of deep snow, the frost was keen and -intense, the streams were ice-bound when they could be seen, for -generally snow had drifted and filled their channels; only the ice on -the Thames, wind-swept, could be discerned. - -Through the dense woods of Newenham, which overhung the river, about -three miles above the Abbey Town (Abingdon), at the close of the brief -winter's day, a youth might have been seen making his way (it was not -made for him) through the dense undergrowth towards the bed of the -stream. - -He was one of Dame Nature's most favoured striplings,--tall and straight -as an arrow, with a bright smile and sunny face, wherein large blue eyes -glistened under dark eyebrows; his hair was dark, his features shapely, -his face, however, sunburnt and weather-beaten, although he only -numbered eighteen years. - -Happily unseen, for in those days the probability was that every -stranger was a foe to be avoided, and for such foes our young friend was -not unprepared; it is true, he wore a simple woollen tunic, bound round -by a girdle, but underneath was a coat of the finest chain-armour, proof -against shafts, and in his hand he had a boar-spear, while a short sword -was suspended in its sheath, from his belt. - -Fool indeed would one have been, whether gentle or simple, to traverse -that district, or indeed any other district of "Merrie" England, unarmed -in the year 1141, and our Osric was not such a simple one. - -He has "aged" since we last saw him. He is quite the young warrior now. -The sweet simplicity, begotten of youth and seclusion, is no longer -there, yet there is nought to awaken distrust. He is not yet a knight, -but he is the favourite squire of Brian Fitz-Count--that terrible lord, -and has been the favourite ever since Alain passed over to the immediate -service of the Empress Queen. - -We will not describe him further--his actions shall speak for him; and -if he be degenerate, tell of his degeneracy. - -As he descended the hill towards the stream, a startling interruption -occurred; a loud snarl, and a wolf--yes, there were wolves in England -then--snapped at him: he had trodden on her lair. - -Quick as thought the boar-spear was poised, and the animal slank away, -rejecting the appeal to battle. For why? She knew there were plenty of -corpses about unburied for her to eat, and if they were not quite so -sweet as Osric's fair young flesh, they would be obtained without -danger. Such was doubtless wolfish philosophy. - -He passed on, not giving a second thought to an adventure which would -fill the mind of a modern youth for hours--but he was hardened to -adventures, and _blasé_ of them. So he took them as a matter of course -and as the ordinary incidents of life: it was a time of carnage, when -the "survival of the fittest" was being worked out amongst our -ancestors. - -"Ah, here is the river at last," he said to himself, "and now I know my -way: the ice will bear me safely enough, and I shall have an easier -road; although I must be careful, for did I get in, I could hardly swim -in this mail-shirt." - -So he stopped, and taking a pair of rude skates from his wallet, bound -them to his iron-clad shoes, and skated up stream--through a desolate -country. - -Anon the grim old castle of the Harcourts frowned down upon him from the -height where their modern mansion now stands. The sentinels saw him and -sent an arrow after him, but it was vain defiance--the river was beyond -arrow shot, and they only sent one, because it was the usual playful -habit of the day to shoot at strangers, young or old. Every man's hand -was against every man. - -They did not think the dimly discerned stranger, scudding up stream, -worth pursuit, especially as it was getting dark, and the snow drifts -were dangerous. So they let him go, not exactly with a benediction. - -And soon he was opposite the village of Sandford, or rather where the -village should have been; but it was burnt to the very ground--not a -house or hovel was standing; not a dog barked, for there were no dogs -left to bark; nor was any living creature to be seen. Soon Iffley, -another scene of desolation, was in sight; but here there were people. -The old Norman Church, the same the voyager still sees, and stops to -examine, was standing, and was indeed the only edifice to be seen: all -else was blackened ruin, or would have been did not the snow mercifully -cover it. - -Here our young friend left the river, and taking off his rude skates, -ascended the bank to the church by a well-trodden path, and pushed open -the west door. - -He gazed upon a scene to which this age happily affords no parallel. The -church was full, but not of worshippers; two or three fires blazed upon -the stone pavement, and the smoke, eddying upwards, made its exit -through holes purposely broken in the roof for that end; around each -fire sat or squatted groups of men, women, and children--hollow-eyed, -famine-pinched, plague-stricken, or the like. There was hardly a face -amongst them which distress had not deprived of any beauty it might once -have possessed. Many a household was there--father, mother, sons and -daughters, from the stripling to the babe. The altar and sanctuary were -alone respected: a screen then divided them from the nave, and the gate -was jealously locked, opened only each day when the parish priest, who -lived in the old tower above, still faithful to his duty, went in at -dawn, and said Mass; while the poor wretched creatures forgot their -misery for a while, and worshipped. - -Osric passed, unquestioned, through the groups,--the church was a -sanctuary to all,--and at last he reached the chancel gate. A youth of -his own age leant against it. - -"Osric." - -"Alain." - -They left the church together, and sought a solitary place on the brink -of the hill above. - -Where the modern tourist often surveys the city from the ridge of Rose -Hill, our friends gazed. The city, great even then, lay within its -protecting rivers and its new walls, dominated by the huge keep of the -castle of Robert d'Oyley which the reader still may see from the line, -as he nears the city. - -But what a different scene it looked down upon. The moon illumined its -gray walls, and the fires of the besiegers shone with a lurid glare -about the city and within its streets, while the white, ghostly country -environed it around. - -"Thou hast kept thy tryst, Osric." - -"And thou thine, Alain; but thine was the hardest. How didst thou get -out? by the way we agreed upon before I left Oxford?" - -"It was a hard matter. The castle is beleaguered, the usurper is there, -and that treacherous priest, his brother, says a sort of black Mass -every day in the camp: the city is all their own, and only the castle -holds out." - -"And how is our lady?" - -"Poor Domina,[20] as she signs herself. Ah, well, she shall not starve -while there is a fragment of food in the neighbourhood, but, Oh, Osric! -hunger is hard to bear; fortunate wert thou to be chosen to accompany -our lord in that desperate sally a month agone which took you all safely -to Wallingford. But what news dost thou bring?" - -"That the great Earl of Gloucester and Henry Plantagenet have landed in -England, and will await the Empress at Wallingford if she can escape -from Oxford." - -"I can get out myself, as thou seest, and have been able to keep our -tryst, but the Empress--how can we risk her life so precious to us all? -Osric, she must descend by _ropes_, and to-day my hands were so frozen -by the cold that I almost let go, and should have fallen full fifty feet -had I done so; but for a woman--even if, like 'Domina,' she be more than -woman--it will be parlous difficult." - -"It must be tried, for no more reinforcements have appeared: we are -wofully disappointed." - -"And so are we: day by day we have hoped to see your pennons advancing -over the frozen snow to our rescue. Alas! it was nought we saw, save -bulrushes and sedges. Then day by day we hear the trumpets blow, and the -usurper summons us to surrender, without terms, to his discretion." - -"We will see him perish first," said Osric. "Hear our plans. If thou -canst persuade the lady to descend from the tower, and cross the stream -at the midnight after to-morrow, we will have a troop on the outskirts -of Bagley wood, to escort the precious freight to Wallingford, in spite -of all her foes, or we will die in her defence." - -"It is well spoken; and I think I may safely say that it shall be -attempted." - -"And the Baron advises that ye all wear white woollen tunics like mine, -as less likely to be distinguished in the snow, and withal warm." - -"We have many such tunics in the castle. At midnight to-morrow the risk -will be run, you may depend upon it. See, the Domina has entrusted me -with her signet, that you may see that I am a sort of plenipotentiary." - -"And now farewell. Canst thou find thy way through the darkness to -Wallingford? Oxford is near at hand." - -"Nay, I shall rest in the church to-night, and depart at dawn: I should -lose my way in the snow." - -"After Mass, I suppose," said Alain sarcastically. - -"Yes," said Osric, blushing. He was getting ashamed of the relics of his -religious observances; "but Mass and meat, you know, hinder no man. I -shall be at Wallingford ere noon, and the horse will start about the -dusk of the evening. God speed thee." And they parted. - -The Castle of Oxford was one of the great strongholds of the Midlands. -Its walls and bastions enclosed a large area, whereon stood the Church -of St. George. On one side was the Mound, thrown up in far earlier days -than those of which we write, by Ethelflæda, sister of Alfred, and near -it the huge tower of Robert d'Oyley, which still survives, a stern and -silent witness of the unquiet past. In an upper chamber of that tower -was the present apartment of the warlike lady, alike the descendant of -Alfred and the Conqueror, and the unlike daughter of the sainted Queen -Margaret of Scotland. And there she sat, at the time when Osric met -Alain at Iffley Church, impatiently awaiting the return of her favourite -squire, for such was Alain, whose youthful comeliness and gallant -bearing had won her heart. - -"He tarries long: he cometh not," she said. "Tell me, my Edith, how long -has he been gone?" - -"Scarce three hours, madam, and he has many dangers to encounter. -Perchance he may never return." - -"Now the Saints confound thy boding tongue." - -"Madam!" - -"Why, forsooth, should he be unfortunate? so active, so brave, so sharp -of wit." - -"I only meant that he is mortal." - -"So are we all--but dost thou, therefore, expect to die to-day?" - -"Father Herluin says we all should live as if we did, madam." - -"You will wear my life out. Well, yes, a convent will be the best place -for thee." - -"Nay, madam." - -"Hold thy peace, if thou canst say nought but 'nay,'" said the irascible -Domina. - -Her temper, her irritability and impatience, had alienated many from her -cause. Perchance it would have alienated Alain like the rest, only he -was a favourite, and she was seldom sharp with him. - -How like her father she was in her bearing! even in her undress, for she -wore only a thick woollen robe, stained, by the art of the dyers, in -colours as various as those of the robe Jacob made for Joseph. Sometimes -it flew open, and displayed an inner vesture of rich texture, bound -round with a golden zone or girdle; and around her head, confining her -luxuriant hair, was a circlet of like precious metal, which did duty for -a diadem. - -Little of her sainted mother was there in the Empress Queen; far more -of her stern grandfather, the Conqueror. - -The chamber, of irregular dimensions, was lighted by narrow loopholes. -There was a hearth and a chimney, and a brazier of wood and charcoal -burned brightly. Even then the air was cold, for it was many degrees -below the freezing point, not that they as yet knew how to measure the -temperature. - -She sat and glowered at the grate, as the light departed, and the winter -night set in, dark and gloomy. More than once she approached the -windows, or loopholes, and looked upon the ruined city in the chill and -intermittent moonlight. - -It was nearly _all_ in ruins. Here and there a church tower rose intact; -here and there a lordly dwelling; but fire and sword had swept it. -Neither party regarded the sufferings of the poor. Sometimes the -besiegers made a fire in sport, and warmed themselves by the blaze of a -burgher's dwelling, nor recked how far it spread. Sometimes, as we have -said, the besieged made a sally, and set fire to the buildings which -sheltered their foes. Whichever prevailed, the citizens suffered; but -little recked their oppressors. - -From her elevated chamber Maude could see the watch-fires of the foe in -a wide circle around, but she was accustomed to the sight, tired of it, -in fact, and her one desire was to escape to Wallingford, a far more -commodious and stronger castle. - -In Frideswide, of which she could discern the towers, which as yet had -escaped the conflagration, were the headquarters of her rival, who was -living there at ease on the fat of the land, such fat as was left, at -the expense of the monastic community. And while she gazed, she clenched -her dainty fist, and shook it at the unheeding Stephen, while she -muttered unwomanly imprecations. - -And while she was thus engaged, they brought up her supper. It consisted -of a stew of bones, which had already been well stripped of their flesh -at "the noon-meat." - -"We are reduced to bones, and shall soon be nought but bones ourselves; -but our gallant defenders, I fear, fare worse. Here, Edith, Hilda, bring -your spoons and take your share." - -And with small wooden spoons they dipped into the royal dish. - -A step on the stairs and the chamberlain knocked, and at her bidding -entered. "Lady, the gallant page has returned: how he entered I know -not." - -"He is unharmed?" - -"Scatheless, by the favour of God and St. Martin." - -"Let him enter at once." - -And Alain appeared. - -"My gallant squire, how hast thou fared? I feared for thee." - -"They keep bad watch. A rope lowered me to the stream: I crossed, and -seeking covered ways, gat me to Iffley, and in like fashion returned. I -bear good news, lady! Thy gallant brother of Gloucester, and the Prince, -thy son, have landed in England, and will meet thee at Wallingford." - -"Thank God!" said Maude. "My Henry, my royal boy, I shall see thee -again. With such hope to cheer a mother's heart, I can dare anything. -Well hast thou earned our thanks, my Alain, my gallant squire." - -"The Lord of Wallingford will send a troop of horse to scout on the road -between Abingdon and Oxford to-morrow night, the Eve of St. Thomas." - -"We will meet them if it be possible--if it be in human power." - -"The river is free--all other roads are blocked." - -"But hast thou considered the difficulties of descent?" - -"They are great, lady: it was easy for me to descend by the rope, but -for thee, alas, that my queen should need such expedients!" - -"It is better than starvation. We are reduced to the bones, as thou -seest; but thou art hungry and faint. Let me order a basin of this -_savoury_ stew for thee; it is all we have to offer." - -"What is good enough for my Empress and Queen, is good enough for her -faithful servants; but I may not eat in thy presence." - -"Nay, scruple not; famine effaces distinctions." - -Thus encouraged, Alain did not allow his scruples to interfere further -with his appetite, and partook heartily of the stew of bones, in which, -forsooth, the water and meal were in undue proportion to the meat. - -The meal despatched, the Empress sent Alain to summon the Earl of -Oxford, Robert d'Oyley, to her presence. He was informed of the arrival -of the Earl and the Prince, and the plan of escape was discussed. - -All the ordinary avenues of the castle were watched so closely that -extraordinary expedients were necessary, and the only feasible mode of -escape appeared to be the difficult road which Alain had used -successfully, both in leaving and returning to the beleaguered fortress. - -A branch of the Isis washed the walls of the tower. It was frozen hard. -To descend by ropes upon it in the darkness, and cross to the opposite -side of the stream, appeared the only mode of egress. - -But for a lady--the Lady of England--was it possible? was it not utterly -unworthy of her dignity? - -She put this objection aside like a cobweb. - -"Canst thou hold out the castle much longer?" - -"At the most, another week; our provisions are nearly exhausted. This -was our last meal of flesh, of which I see the bones before me," replied -the Lord of Oxford. - -"Then if I remain, thou must still surrender?" - -"Surrender is _inevitable_, lady." - -"Then sooner would I infringe my dignity by dangling from a rope, than -become the prisoner of the foul usurper Stephen, and the laughing-stock -of his traitorous barons." - -"Sir Ingelric of Huntercombe, and two other knights, besides thy gallant -page, volunteer to accompany thee, lady." - -"And for thyself?" - -"I must remain to the last, and share the fortunes of my vassals. -Without me, they would find scant mercy from the usurpers." - -"Then, to-morrow night, ere the moon rise, the attempt shall be made." - -And the conference broke up. - - ---- - -It was a night of wildering snow, dark and gloomy. The soft, dry, -powdery material found its way in at each crevice, and the wind made the -tapestry, which hung on the walls of the presence chamber of the "Lady -Maude," oscillate to and fro with each blast. - -Robert d'Oyley was alone in deep consultation with his royal mistress. - -"Then if I can escape, thou wilt surrender?" - -"Nought else is to be done; we are starving." - -"They will burn the castle." - -"There is little to burn, and I hardly think they will attempt that: it -will be useful to them, when in their hands." - -"It is near the midnight hour: the attempt must be made. Now summon -young Alain and my faithful knights." - -They entered at the summons, each clothed in fine mail, with a white -tunic above it. The Empress bid adieu to her handmaidens, who had clad -her in a thick white cloak to match: they wept and wailed, but she -gently chid them-- - -"We have suffered worse things: the coffin and hearse in which we left -Devizes was more ghastly; and God will give an end to these troubles -also: fear not, we are prepared to go through with it." - -A small door was opened in the thickness of the wall; it led to the -roof, over a lower portion of the buildings beneath the shadow of the -tower; and the knights, with Alain and their lady, stood on the -snow-covered summit. - -Not long did they hesitate. The river beneath was frozen hard; it lay -silent and still in its ice-bound sepulchre. The darkness was penetrated -by the light of the watch-fires in all directions: they surrounded the -town on all sides, save the one they had not thought it necessary to -guard against. There was a fire and doubtless a watch over the bridge, -which stood near the actual site of the present Folly Bridge. There was -a watch across Hythe Bridge; there was another on the ruins of the -castle mill, which Earl Algar had held, under the Domesday survey; -another at the principal entrance of the castle, which led from the -city. But the extreme cold of the night had driven the majority of the -besiegers to seek shelter in the half-ruined churches, which, long -attuned to the sweet melody of bells and psalmody, had now become the -bivouacs of profane soldiers. - -The Countess Edith, the wife of Robert d'Oyley, now appeared, shivering -in the keen air, and took an affectionate leave of the Empress, while -her teeth chattered the while. A true woman, she shared her husband's -fortunes for weal or woe, and had endured the horrors of the siege. -Ropes were brought--Alain glided down one to the ice, and held it firm. -Another rope was passed beneath the armpits of the Lady Maude. She -grasped another in her gloved hand, to steady her descent. - -"Farewell, true and trusty friend," she said to Robert of Oxford; "had -all been as faithful as thou, I had never been brought to this pass; if -they hurt thy head, they shall pay with a life for every hair it -contains." - -Then she stepped over the battlements. - -For one moment she gave a womanly shudder at the sight of the blackness -below; then yielding herself to the care of her trusty knights and -shutting her eyes, she was lowered safely to the surface of the frozen -stream, while young Alain steadied the rope below. At last her feet -touched the ice. - -"Am I on the ground?" - -"On the ice, Domina." - -One after another the three knights followed her, and they descended the -stream until it joined the main river at a farm called "The Wick," which -formerly belonged to one Ermenold, a citizen of Oxford, immortalised in -the abbey records of Abingdon for his munificence to that community. - -Now they had crossed the main channel in safety, not far below the -present railway bridge, and landing, struck out boldly for the outskirts -of Bagley, where the promised escort was to have met them. But in the -darkness and the snow, they lost their direction, and came at last over -the frozen fields to Kennington, where they indistinctly saw two or -three lights through the fast-falling snow, but dared not approach them, -fearing foes. - -Vainly they strove to recover the track. The country was all alike--all -buried beneath one ghastly winding-sheet. The snow still fell; the air -was calm and keen; the breath froze on the mufflers of the lady. Onward -they trudged, for to hesitate was death; once or twice that ghastly -inclination to lie down and sleep was felt. - -"If I could only lie down for one half hour!" said Maude. - -"You would never wake again, lady," said Bertram of Wallingford; "we -_must_ move on." - -"Nay, I must sleep." - -"For thy son's sake," whispered Alain; and she persevered. - -"Ah! here is the river; take care." - -They had nearly fallen into a diversion of the stream at Sandford; but -they followed the course of the river, until they reached Radley, and -then they heard the distant bell of the famous abbey ringing for Matins, -which were said in the small hours of the night. - -Here they found some kind of track made by the passage of cattle, which -had been driven towards the town, and followed it until they saw the -lights of the abbey dimly through the gloom. - -Spent, exhausted with their toil, they entered the precincts of the -monastery, on the bed of the stream which, diverging from the main -course a mile above the town, turned the abbey mills and formed one of -its boundaries. Thus they avoided detention at the gateway of the town, -for they ascended from the stream within the monastery "pleasaunce." - -The grand church loomed out of the darkness; its windows were dimly -lighted. The Matins of St. Thomas were being sung, and the solemn -strains reached the ears of the weary travellers outside. The outer door -of the nave was unfastened, for the benefit of the laity, who cared more -for devotion than their beds, like the mother of the famous St. Edmund, -Archbishop of Canterbury, a century later, who used to attend these -Matins nightly. - -Our present party entered from a different motive. It was a welcome -shelter, and they sank upon an oaken bench within the door, while the -solemn sound of the Gregorian psalmody rolled on in the choir. Alain -meanwhile hastened to the hospitium to seek aid for the royal guest; -which he was told he would find in a hostel outside the gates, for -although they allowed female attendance at worship, they could not -entertain women; it was contrary to their rule--royal although the guest -might be. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[19] The historical course of events during these two years may be -briefly summed up. The English at first embraced the cause of Maude with -alacrity, because of her descent from their ancient monarchs, and so did -most of the barons. A dire civil war followed, in which multitudes of -freebooters from abroad, under the name of "free lances," took part in -either side. Hereford, Gloucester, Bristol, Oxford, Wallingford--all -became centres of Maude's power; and at last, at the great battle of -Lincoln--the only great battle during the miserable chaos of -strife--Stephen became her prisoner. - -Then she had nearly gained the crown: Henry, Bishop of Winchester, Papal -legate and brother of Stephen, joined her cause, and received her as -Queen at Winchester. The wife of King Stephen begged her husband's -liberty on her knees, promising that he should depart from the kingdom -and become a monk. But Maude was hard-hearted, and spurned her from her -presence, rejecting, to her own great detriment, the prayer of the -suppliant; and not only did she do this, but she also refused the -petition of Henry of Winchester, that the foreign possessions of Stephen -might pass to his son Eustace. In consequence, the Bishop abandoned her -cause, and Maude found that she had dashed the cup of fortune from her -hand by her harsh conduct, which at last became past bearing. She -refused the Londoners the confirmation of their ancient charters, -because they had submitted to the rule of Stephen; whereupon they rose, -_en masse_, against her, and drove her from the city. She hastened to -Winchester, but the Bishop followed, and drove her thence; and in the -flight Robert, Earl of Gloucester was captured. He was exchanged for -Stephen, both leaders were at liberty and the detestable strife began, -_de novo_. - -Then Maude took up her abode at Oxford, where Stephen came and besieged -her, as related in the text. - -[20] Maude did not venture to call herself Queen, but signed her deeds -Domina or Lady of England. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -AFTER THE ESCAPE - - -Meanwhile Brian Fitz-Count himself, with Osric by his side and a dozen -horsemen, rode to and fro on the road to Oxford, which passed through -the forest of Bagley; for to halt in the cold was impossible, and to -kindle a fire might attract the attention of foes, as well as of -friends. How they bore that weary night may not be told, but they were -more accustomed to such exposure than we are in these days. - -Again and again did Brian question Osric concerning the interview with -Alain, but of course to no further purpose; and they might have remained -till daylight had not they taken a shepherd, who was out to look after -his sheep, and brought him before the Count, pale and trembling, for it -was often death to the rustics to be seized by the armed bands. - -"Hast thou seen any travellers this night?" - -"I have, my lord, but they were not of this earth." - -"What then, fool?" - -"They were the ghosts of the slain, five of them, all in white, coming -up from the river, where the fight was a month agone." - -"And what didst thou do?" - -"Hid myself." - -"Where were they going?" - -"Towards Abingdon." - -"Men or women?" - -"One was muffled up like a lady; the others were like men, but all in -white." - -"My lord," interrupted Osric, "I bore thy recommendation that they -should wear white garments, the better to escape observation in the -snow, and Alain promised me that such precaution should be taken: no -doubt the shepherd has seen them." - -"Which way were the ghosts going, shepherd?" - -"They were standing together, when all at once the boom of the abbey -bell came through the air from Abingdon, and then they made towards the -town, to seek their graves, for there many of the slain were buried." - -"_Requiescant in pace_," said Osric. - -"Peace, Osric; do not you know that if you pray for a living man or -woman as if they were dead, you hasten their demise?" said Brian -sarcastically. "Let the old fool go, and we will wend our weary way to -the abbey. They give sanctuary to either party." - -The snow ceased to fall about this time, and a long line of vivid red -appeared low down in the east: the snow caught the tinge of the coming -day, and was reddened like blood. - -"One would think there had been a mighty battle there, my squire." - -"It reminds me of the field of Armageddon, of which I heard the Chaplain -talk. I wonder whether it will come soon." - -"Dost thou believe in all those priestly pratings?" - -"My grandfather taught me to do so." - -"And the rough life of a castle has not yet made thee forget his -homilies?" - -"No," sighed Osric. - -The sigh touched the hardened man. - -"If he has faith, why should I destroy it?" Then he added as if almost -against his will-- - -"Keep thy faith; I would I shared it." - -The fortifications of the town, the castle on the Oxford road, the -gateway hard by, came in sight at the next turn of the road, but Brian -avoided them, and sought a gate lower down which admitted to the abbey -precincts, where he was not so likely to be asked inconvenient -questions. - -He bade one of his men ring the bell. - -The porter looked forth. - -"What manner of men are ye?" - -"Travellers lost in the snow come to seek the hospitality prescribed by -the rule of St. Benedict." - -"Enter," and the portal yawned: no names were asked, no political -distinctions recognised. - -They stood in the outer quadrangle of the hoar abbey, the stronghold of -Christianity in Wessex for five centuries past; and well had it -performed its task, and well had it deserved of England. Founded so long -ago that its origin was even then lost in conflicting traditions, -surviving wave after wave of war, burnt by the Danes, remodelled by the -Normans--yet this hoary island of prayer stood in the stream of time -unchanged in all its main features, and, as men thought, destined to -stand till the archangel's trump sounded the knell of time. - - - "They built in marble, built as they - Who thought these stones should see the day - When Christ should come; and that these walls - Should stand o'er them when judgment calls." - - -Alas, poor monks, and alas for the country which lost the most glorious -of her architectural riches, the most august of her fanes, through the -greed of one generation! - -"Have any other travellers sought shelter here during the night?" - -"Five--a lady and four knights." - -"Where be they?" - -"The lady is lodged in a house without the eastern gate; the others are -in the guest-house, where thou mayst join them." - -Have my readers ever seen the outer quadrangle of Magdalene College? It -is not unlike the square of buildings in which the Baron and his -followers now stood. On three sides the monastic buildings, with -cloisters looking upon a green sward, wherein a frozen fountain was -surmounted by a cross; on the other, the noble church, of which almost -all trace is lost. - -In the hospitium or guest-house Brian found Sir Ingelric of Huntercombe, -with Alain and the other attendants upon the lady's flight. They met -with joy, and seated before a bright fire which burned upon the hearth, -learned the story of each other's adventures on that gruesome night, -which, however, had ended well. Osric had gone in charge of the horses -to some stables outside the gates, which opened upon the market-place, -but he now returned, and Alain greeted him warmly. - -Soon the _déjeûner_ or breakfast was served, of which the chief feature -was good warm soup, very acceptable after the night they had passed -through. Scarcely was it over when the bells rang for the High Mass of -St. Thomas's Day. - -"Yes, we must all go," said Brian, "out of compliment to our hosts, if -for no better reason." - -They entered the church, of which the nave and transepts were open to -the general public, while the choir, as large as that of a cathedral -church, was reserved for the monks alone. The service was grand and -solemn: it began with a procession, during which holy water was -sprinkled over the congregation, while the monks sang-- - - - "Asperges me hyssopo et mundabor, - Lava me, et super nivem dealbabor." - - -Then followed the chanted Mass at the High Altar. There were gleaming -lights, gorgeous vestments, clouds of incense. All the symbolism of an -age when the worship of the English people was richer in ceremonial than -that of Continental nations was there. It impressed the minds of rude -warriors who could neither read nor write with the sense of a mysterious -world, other than their own--of dread realities and awful powers beyond -the reach of mortal warfare. If it appealed rather to the imagination -than the reason, yet it may be thought, it thereby reached its mark the -more surely. The Church was still the salt of the earth, which preserved -the whole mass from utter corruption, and in a world of violence and -wrong, pointed to a land of peace and joy beyond this transitory scene. - -So felt Osric, and his eyes filled with tears as emotions he could -hardly analyse stirred his inmost soul. - -And Brian--well, he was as a man who views his natural face in a glass, -and going away, forgets what manner of man he was. - - ---- - -After Mass the Empress Maude greeted her dear friend and faithful -follower Brian Fitz-Count with no stinted welcome. She almost fell upon -his shoulder, proud woman though she was, and wept, when assured she -should soon see her son, Prince Henry, at Wallingford, for she was but a -woman after all. - -She insisted upon an interview with the Abbot, from which Brian would -fain have dissuaded her, but she took the bit in her teeth. - -After a while that dignitary came, and bowed gracefully, but not low. - -"Dost thou know, lord Abbot, whom thou hast entertained?" - -"Perchance an Angel unawares: all mortals are equal within the Church's -gate." - -"Thy true Queen, who will not forget thy hospitality." - -"Nor would King Stephen, did he know that we had shown it, lady. I -reverence thy lofty birth, and wish thee well for the sake of thy -father, who was a great benefactor to this poor house: further I cannot -say; we know nought of earthly politics here--our citizenship is above." - -She did not appreciate his doctrines, but turned to Brian. - -"Have we any gold to leave as a benefaction in return for this -hospitality; it will purchase a Mass, which, doubtless, we need in these -slippery times, when it is difficult always to walk straight." - -Brian drew forth his purse. - -"Lady, it needs not," said the Abbot; "thou art welcome, so are all the -unfortunate, rich or poor, who suffer in these cruel wars, to which may -God soon give an end." - -"Lay the blame, lord Abbot, on the usurper then, and pray for his -overthrow; but for him I should have ruled as my father did, with -justice and equity. If thou wishest for peace, pray for our speedy -restoration to our rightful throne. Farewell." - - ---- - -So the Empress and her train departed, and crossing the river at Culham, -made for the distant hills of Synodune, across a country where the snow -had obliterated nearly all the roads, and even covered the hedges and -fences. So that they were forced to travel very slowly, and at times -came to a "standstill." - -However, they surmounted all difficulties; and travelling along the -crest of the hills, where the wind had prevented the accumulation of -much snow, they reached Wallingford in safety, amidst the loudest of -loud rejoicings, where they were welcomed by Maude d'Oyley, Lady of -Wallingford--the sister of the Lord of Oxford and wife of Brian. - -How shall we relate the festivities of that night? it seems like telling -an old tale: how the tables groaned with the weight of the feast, as in -the old ballad of Imogene; how the minstrels and singers followed after, -and none recked of the multitude of captives who already crowded the -dismal dungeons beneath. Some prisoners taken in fair fight, some with -less justice prisoners held to ransom, their sole crime being wealth; -others from default of tribute paid to Brian, be it from ill-will or -only from want of means. - -But of these poor creatures the gay feasters above thought not. The -contrast between the awful vaults and cells below, and the gay and -lighted chambers above, was cruel, but they above recked as little as -the giddy children who play in a churchyard think of the dead beneath -their feet. - -"My lady," said Brian, "we shall keep our Christmas yet more merrily, -for on the Eve we hope to welcome thy right trusty brother of Gloucester -and thy gallant son." - -The mother's eyes sparkled. - -"My good and trusty subject," she said, "how thou dost place me under -obligations beyond my power to repay?" - -"Nay, my queen, all I have is thine, for thy own and thy royal father's -sake, who was to me a father indeed." - -The festivities were not prolonged to a very late hour; nature must have -its way, and the previous night had been a most trying one, as our -readers are well aware. That night was a night of deep repose. - -On the following day came the news that Oxford Castle had surrendered, -and that Robert d'Oyley, lord thereof, was prisoner to Stephen; it was -at first supposed that the king would follow his rival to Wallingford, -but he preferred keeping his Christmas in the castle he had taken. -Wallingford was a hard nut to crack. - - ---- - -It was Christmas Eve, and the Empress stood by the side of the lord of -the castle, on the watch-towers; the two squires, Alain and Osric, -waited reverently behind. - -The scenery around has already been described in our opening chapter. -The veil of winter was over it, but the sun shone brightly, and its -beams glittered on the ice of the river and the snow-clad country -beyond: one only change there was--the forts on the Crowmarsh side of -the stream, erected in a close of the parish of Crowmarsh--then and now -called Barbican; they were so strong as to be deemed impregnable, and -were now held against Brian by the redoubtable Ranulph, Earl of Chester. -The garrisons of the two fortresses, so near each other, preyed in turn -on the country around, and fought wherever they met--to keep their hands -in; but they were now keeping "The Truce of God," in honour of -Christmas. - -"It is a lovely day. May it be the harbinger of better fortune," said -Maude. "When do you think they will arrive?" - -"They slept at Reading Abbey last night, so there is little doubt they -will be here very soon." - -"If they started early they might be in sight now: ah, God and St. Mary -be praised! there they be. Is not that their troop along the road?" - -A band, with streamlets gay and pennons fair, was indeed approaching the -gates of the town from the south, by the road which led from Reading, -along the southern bank of the Thames. - -"To horse! to horse!" said the Empress; "let us fly to meet them." - -"Nay, my liege, they will be here anon--almost before our horses could -be caparisoned to appear in fit state before the citizens of my town." -The fact was, Brian had a soldier's dislike of a scene, and would fain -get the meeting over within the walls. - -And the royal mother contented herself with standing on the steps of the -great hall to receive her gallant son, Henry Plantagenet, the future -King of England, destined to restore peace to the troubled land, but -whose sun was to set in such dark clouds, owing to his quarrel with the -Church, and the cruel misbehaviour of his faithless wife and rebellious -sons. - -But we must not anticipate. The gallant boy was at hand, and his mother -clasped him to the maternal breast: "so greatly comforted," said the -chronicler, "that she forgot all the troubles and mortifications she had -endured, for the joy she had of his presence." Then she turned to her -right trusty brother, and wept on his neck. - -The following day was the birthday of the "Prince of Peace," and these -children of war kept it in right honour. They attended Mass at the -Church of St. Mary's in the town in great state, and afterwards -banqueted in the Castle hall with multitudes of guests. Meanwhile -Ranulph, Earl of Chester, had returned home to keep the feast; but his -representatives kept it right well, and the two parties actually sent -presents to each other, and wished mutual good cheer. - - ---- - -The feast was over, and the maskers dropped their masks, and turned to -the business of life in right earnest--that was war, only war. The -Empress Maude, with her son, under the care of her brother, shortly left -Wallingford for Bristol, where the young prince remained for four years, -under the care of his uncle, who had brought him up. - -But all around the flames of war broke out anew, and universal bloodshed -returned. It was a mere gory chaos: no great battles, no decisive blows; -only castle against castle, all through the land, as at Wallingford and -Crowmarsh. Each baron delved the soil for his dungeons, and raised his -stern towers to heaven. All was pillage and plunder; men fought wherever -they met; every man's hand was against every man; peaceful villages were -burnt daily; lone huts, isolated farms, were no safer; merchants -scarcely dared to travel, shops to expose their wares; men refused to -till the fields for others to reap; and they said that God and His -Saints were fast asleep. The land was filled with death; corpses rotted -by the sides of the roads; women and children took sanctuary in the -churches and churchyards, to which they removed their valuables. But the -bands of brigands and murderers, who, like vultures, scented the quarry -afar, and crowded from all parts of the Continent into England--unhappy -England--as to a prey delivered over into their hands, did not always -respect sanctuary. Famine followed; men had nought to eat; it was even -said that they ate the bodies of the dead like cannibals. Let us hope -this ghastly detail is untrue, but we do not feel _sure_ it is; the -pangs of hunger are so dreadful to bear. - -Then came pestilence in the train of famine, and claimed its share of -victims. And so the weary years went on--twelve long years of misery and -woe. - -Summer had come--hot and dry. There had been no rain for a month. It -was the beginning of July, in the year 1142. Fighting was going on in -England in general; at Wilton, near Salisbury, in particular. The king -was there: he had turned the nunnery of that place into a castle, -driving out the holy sisters, and all the flock of the wounded and poor -to whom, with earnest piety, they were ministering. The king put up -bulwark and battlement, and thought he had done well, when on the 1st of -July came Robert of Gloucester from Bristol, and sat down before the -place to destroy it. - -The king and his brother--the Papal legate, the fighting Bishop of -Winchester, the turncoat--were both there, and after a desperate -defence, were forced to escape by a secret passage, and fly by night. -Their faithful seneschal, William Martel, Lord of Shirburne, and a great -enemy and local rival of Brian, remained behind to protract the defence, -and engage the attention of the besiegers until his king had had time to -get far enough away with his affectionate brother Henry; and his -self-devotion was not in vain, but he paid for it by the loss of his own -liberty. He was taken prisoner after a valiant struggle, and sent to -Wallingford, to be under the custody of Brian Fitz-Count, his enemy and -rival. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -LIFE AT WALLINGFORD CASTLE - - -In sketching the life of a mediæval castle, we have dwelt too much upon -the brighter side of the picture. There was a darker one, contrasting -with the outward pomp and circumstance as the dungeons with the gay -halls above. - -What then was the interior of those dark towers, which we contemplate -only in their ruined state? Too often, the surrounding peasants looked -at them with affright: the story of Blue-Beard is not a mere tale, it is -rather a veritable tradition: what was the lord to his vassals, whom his -own wife regarded with such great fear? We know one of the brood by the -civil process issued against him--Gilles de Retz--the torturer of -children. It has been said that the "Front de Boeuf" of Sir Walter Scott -is but a poor creature, a feeble specimen of what mediæval barons could -be. A more terrible portrait has been given in recent days by -Erckmann-Chatrian, in their story, _The Forest House_. - -And such, we regret to say, by degrees did Brian Fitz-Count become. Few -men can stand the test of absolute power, and the power of a mediæval -lord was almost absolute in his own domain. - -And the outbreak of civil war, by loosening the bonds of society, gave -him the power of doing this, so that it was soon said that Wallingford -Castle was little better than a den of brigands. - -The very construction of these old castles, so far as one can see them, -tells us far more than books can: men-at-arms, pages, valets, all were -shut in for the night, sleeping in common in those vaulted apartments. -The day summoned them to the watch-towers and battlements, where they -resembled the eagle or hawk, soaring aloft in hope of seeing their -natural prey. - -Nor was it often long before some convoy of merchandise passing along -the high road, some well appointed travellers or the like, tempted them -forth on their swift horses, lance in hand, to cry like the modern -robber, "Your money or your life," or in sober truth, to drag their -prisoners to their dungeons, and hold them to ransom, in default of -which they amused themselves by torturing them. - -Such inmates of the castles were only happy when they got out upon their -adventures--and as in the old fable of "The Frogs and the Boys,"--what -was sport to them was death to their neighbours. - - -It was eventide, the work of the day was over, and Brian was taking -counsel with Malebouche, who had risen by degrees to high command -amongst the troopers, although unknighted. Osric was present, and sat in -an embrasure of the window. - -"A good day's work, Malebouche," said Brian; "that convoy of merchandise -going from Reading to Abingdon was a good prize--our halls will be the -better for their gauds, new hangings of tapestry, silks, and the like; -but as we are deficient in women to admire them, I would sooner have had -their value in gold." - -"There is this bag of rose nobles, which we took from the body of the -chief merchant." - -"Well, it will serve as an example to others, who travel by by-roads to -avoid paying me tribute, and rob me of my dues. Merchants from Reading -have tried to get to Abingdon by that road over Cholsey Hill before." - -"They will hardly try again if they hear of this." - -"At least these will not--you have been too prompt with them; did any -escape?" - -"I think not; my fellows lanced them as they fled, which was the fate -of all, as we were well mounted, save a lad who stumbled and fell, and -they hung him in sport for the sake of variety. They laughed till the -tears stood in their eyes at his quaint grimaces."[21] - -Brian did not seem to heed this pleasant story. Osric moved uneasily in -his seat, but strove to repress feelings which, after all, were less -troublesome than of yore; all at once he spied a sight which drove -merchants and all from his mind. - -"My lord, here is Alain." - -"Where?" - -"Just dismounting in the courtyard." - -"Call to him to come up at once; he will have news from Wilton." - -Osric leant out of the narrow window, which in summer was always open. - -"Alain! Alain!" he cried, "come up hither, my lord is impatient for your -tidings." - -Alain waved back a friendly greeting and hurried up the stairs. - -"Joy, my Lord, joy; thine enemy is in thy hands." - -"Which one, my squire? I have too many enemies to remember all." - -"William Martel, Lord of Shirburne." - -"Ah, now we shall get Shirburne!" cried Osric. - -"Silence, boys!" roared Brian; "now tell me all: where he was taken, and -what has become of him." - -"He was taken by Earl Robert at Wilton, and will be here in an hour; you -may see him from the battlements now. The good Earl has sent him to you -to keep in durance, and sent me to command the escort: I only left them -on the downs--they are descending the hills even now; I galloped forward -to 'bring the good news.'" - -"By our Lady, I am indeed happy. Alain, here is a purse of rose nobles -for thee; poor as I am, thy news are all too good. Send the gaolers to -me; have a good dark dungeon prepared; we must humble his spirits." - -"We are getting too full below, my lord." - -"Orders are given for another set to be dug out at once, the architect -only left me to-day; it is to be called Cloere Brien--or Brian's Close, -and the first guest shall be William Martel; there shall he rot till he -deliver up Shirburne and all its lands to me in perpetuity. The Castle -of Shirburne is one of the keys of the Chilterns." - -"Now, my lord, they are in sight--look!" - -And from the windows they saw a troop of horse approaching Wallingford, -over Cholsey Common. - -"Let us don our robes of state to meet them," said Brian; and he threw -on a mantle over his undress; then he descended, followed by his two -pages, and paced the battlements, till the trumpets were blown which -announced the arrival of the cortege. - -Brian showed no womanly curiosity to feast his eyes with the sight of a -captive he was known to hate, but repaired to the steps of the great -hall, and stood there, Alain on one side, Osric on the other; and soon -the leading folk in the castle collected about them. - -The troop of horse trotted over the three drawbridges, and drew rein in -front of the Baron; then wheeling to right and left, disclosed their -prisoner. - -"I salute thee, William Martel, Lord of Shirburne; my poor castle is too -much honoured by thy presence." - -"Faith, thou mayst well say so," said the equally proud and fierce -captive. "I take it thou hast had few prisoners before higher in rank -than the wretched Jews you torture for their gold; but I trust you know -how to treat a noble." - -"That indeed we do, especially one like thyself; not that we are -overawed by thy grandeur; the castle which has entertained thy rightful -sovereign may be quite good enough for thee. Companions thou shalt have, -if but the toad and adder; light enough to make darkness visible, until -such time as thy ransom be paid, or thou submit to thy true Queen." - -"To Henry's unworthy child--never. Name thy ransom." - -"The Castle of Shirburne and all things pertaining thereto." - -"Never shall it be thine." - -"Then here shalt thou rot. Tustain, prepare a chamber--one of the -dungeons in the north tower, until a more suitable one be builded. And -meanwhile it may please thee to learn that we purpose a ride to look at -your Shirburne folk, and see the lands which shall be ours; this very -night we may light a bonfire or two to amuse them." - -And they led the captive away. - -Now lest this should be thought a gross exaggeration, it may as well be -said that the ungovernable savagery of this contest, the violent -animosities engendered, did lead the nobility so called, the very chief -of the land, to forget their chivalry, and treat their foes, not after -the fashion of the Black Prince and his captive, the King of France, but -in the brutal fashion we have described. - -And probably Brian would have fared just as badly at William Martel's -hands, had their positions been reversed. - -"Trumpeter, blow the signal to horse; let the Brabanters prepare to -ride, and the Black Troopers of Ardennes--the last comers. We will ride -to-night, Alain. Art thou too wearied to go with us?" - -"Nay, my lord, ready and willing." - -"And Osric--it will refresh thee; we start in half an hour--give the -horses corn." - -In half an hour they all rode over a new bridge of boats lower down the -stream, and close under the ordnance of the castle,[22] for the forts at -Crowmarsh commanded the lower Bridge of Stone. They were full three -hundred in number--very miscellaneous in composition. There was a new -troop of a hundred Brabanters; another of so-called Free Companions, -numbering nearly the same. Scarce a hundred were Englishmen, in any -sense of the word, neither Anglo-Norman nor Anglo-Saxon--foreigners with -no more disposition to pity the unfortunate natives than the buccaneers -of later date had to pity the Spaniards, or even the shark to pity the -shrinking flesh he snaps at. - -Just before reaching Bensington, which paid tribute to both sides, and -was exempt from fire and sword from either Wallingford or Crowmarsh, a -troop from the latter place came in sight. - -Trumpets were blown on both sides, stragglers recalled into line, and -the two bodies of horsemen charged each other with all the glee of two -bodies of football players in modern times, and with little more thought -or care. - -But the Wallingford men were strongest, and after a brief struggle the -Crowmarsh troopers were forced to fly. They were not pursued: Brian had -other business in hand; it was a mere friendly charge. - -Only struggling on the ground were some fifty men and horses, wounded or -dying, and not a few dead. - -Brian looked after Osric with anxiety. - -The youth's bright face was flushed with delight and animation. He was -returning a reddened sword to the scabbard; he had brought down his man, -cleaving him to the chine, himself unhurt. - -Brian smiled grimly. - -"Now for Alain," he said; "ah, there he is pursuing these Crowmarsh -fellows. We have no time to waste--sound the recall, now onward, for the -Chilterns." - -Alain rejoined them. - -"Thou art wasting time." - -"My foe fled; Osric has beaten me to-day." - -"Plenty of opportunity for redressing the wrong--now onward." - -They passed through Bensington. The gates--for every large village had -its walls and gates as a matter of necessity--opened and shut for them -in grim silence; they did no harm there. They passed by the wood -afterwards called "Rumbold's Copse," and then got into the territory of -Shirburne, for so far as Britwell did William Martel exact tribute, and -offer such protection as he was able. - -From this period all was havoc and destruction--all one grim scene of -fire and carnage. They fired every rick, every barn, every house; they -slew everything they met. - -And Osric was as bad as the rest--we do not wonder at Alain. - -Then they reached Watlington, "the wattled town," situated in a hollow -of the hills. Its gates were secured, and it was surrounded by a ditch, -a mound, and the old British defence of wattles, or stakes pointed -outwards. - -Here they paused. - -"It is too strong to be taken by assault," said the Baron. "Osric, go to -the gate with just half a dozen, who have English tongues in their -heads, and ask for shelter and hospitality." - -Osric, to his credit, hesitated. - -Brian reddened--he could not bear the lad he loved to take a more moral -tone than himself. - -"Must I send Alain?" - -Osric went, and feigning to be belated, asked admittance, but he did not -act it well. - -"Who are you? whence do ye come? what mean the fires we see?" - -"Alain, go and help him; he cannot tell a fair lie," said Brian. - -Alain arriving, made answer, "The men of Wallingford are out--we are -flying from Britwell for our lives--haste or they will overtake us--we -are only a score." - -The poor fools opened, and were knocked on the head at once for their -pains. - -The whole band now galloped up and rushed in. - -"Fire every house. After you have plundered them all, if you find mayor -and burgesses, take them for ransom; slay the rest." - -The scene which followed was shocking; but in this wretched reign it -might be witnessed again and again all over England. But many things -shocked Osric afterwards when he had time to think. - -Enough of this. We have only told what we have told because it is -essential to the plot of our story, that the scenes should be understood -which caused so powerful a reaction in Osric--_afterwards_. - -Laden with spoil, with shout and song, the marauders returned from their -raid. Along the road which leads from Watlington to the south, with the -range of the Chilterns looking down from the east, and the high land -which runs from Rumbold's Copse to Brightwell Salome on the west, they -drove their cattle and carried their plunder; whilst they recounted -their murderous exploits, and made night hideous with the defiant bray -of trumpets and their discordant songs. - -And so in the fire and excitement of the moment the sufferings of the -poor natives were easily forgotten, or served to the more violent and -cruel as zest to their enjoyment. - -Was it so with our Osric? Could the grandson of Sexwulf, the heir of a -line of true Englishmen, so forget the lessons of his boyhood? Alas, my -reader, such possibilities lurk in our fallen nature! - - - "Ah, when shall come the time - When war shall be no more? - When lust, oppression, crime, - Shall flee Thy Face before?" - - -We must wait until the advent of the Prince of Peace. - -They got back to Wallingford at last. The gates were opened, there was a -scene of howling excitement, and then they feasted and drank until the -small hours of the night; after which they went to bed, three or four in -one small chamber, and upon couches of the hardest--in recesses of the -wall, or sometimes placed, like the berths of a ship, one over the -other--the robbers slept. - -For in what respect were they better than modern highwaymen or pirates? - -Osric and Alain lay in the same chamber. - -"How hast thou enjoyed the day, Osric?" - -"Capitally, but I am worn out." - -"You will not sleep so soundly even now as the fellow you brought down -so deftly in that first skirmish. You have got your hand in at last." - -Osric smiled with gratified vanity--he was young and craved such glory. - -"Good-night, Alain." He could hardly articulate the words from fatigue, -and Alain had had even a harder day. - -They slept almost as soundly as the dead they had left behind them; no -spectres haunted them and disturbed their repose; conscience was -hardened, scarred as with a hot iron, but her time was yet to come for -Osric. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[21] Rien de plus gai que nos vieux contes--ils n'ont que trois -plaisanteries--le desespoir du mari, les cris du battu, la grimace du -pendu: au troisieme la gaiete est au comble, on se tient les -cotés.--_Michelet._ - -[22] _i.e._ Mangonels, arbalasts, and the like. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -BROTHER ALPHEGE - - -From the abode of strife and turmoil to the home of peace, from the -house of the world to the house of religion, from the Castle of -Wallingford to the Abbey of Dorchester, do we gladly conduct our -readers, satiated, we doubt not, with scenes of warfare. - -What wonder, when the world was given up to such scenes, that men and -women, conscious of higher aspirations, should fly to the seclusion of -the monastic life, afar from - - - "Unloving souls with deeds of ill, - And words of angry strife." - - -And what a blessing for that particular age that there were such -refuges, thickly scattered throughout the land--veritable cities of -refuge. It was not the primary idea of these orders that they should be -benevolent institutions, justifying their existence by the service -rendered to the commonwealth. The primary idea was the service of God, -and the salvation of the particular souls, who fled from a world lying -in wickedness and the shadow of death, to take sweet counsel together, -and walk in the House of God as friends. - -Later on came a _nobler_ conception of man's duty to man; and thence -sprang the active orders, such as the Friars or Sisters of Mercy, as -distinguished from the cloistered or contemplative orders. - -Of course, in the buildings of such a society, the Church was the -principal object--as the ruins of Tintern or Glastonbury show, -overshadowing all the other buildings, dwarfing them into -insignificance. Upon this object all the resources of mediæval art were -expended. The lofty columns, the mysterious lights and shadows of a -Gothic fane, the sculptures, the statues, the shrines, the rich -vestments, the painted glass--far beyond aught we can produce, the -solemn music,--all this they lavished on the Church as the house of -prayer-- - - - "It is the house of prayer, - Wherein Thy servants meet; - And Thou, O God, art there, - Thy hallowed flock to greet." - - -Here they met seven times daily, to recite their offices, as also at the -midnight office, when only the professed brethren were present. In these -active times men may consider so much time spent in church a great waste -of time, but we cannot judge other generations by our own ideas. A very -sharp line was then drawn between the Church and the world, and they who -chose the former possessed a far greater love for Divine worship than we -see around us now, coupled with a most steadfast belief in its efficacy. -"Blessed are They who dwell in Thy house; they will be alway praising -Thee," was the language of their hearts. - -Here men who had become the subjects of intense grief--from whom death, -perhaps, had removed their earthly solace--the partners of their sorrow -or joy--found refuge when the sun of this world was set. Here, also, -studious men, afar from the clamour and din of arms, preserved for us -the wisdom of the ancients. Here the arts and sciences lived on, when -nought save war filled the minds of men outside. Well has it been said, -that for the learning of the nineteenth century to revile the monastic -system is for the oak to revile the acorn from which it sprang. - -But most of all, when the shadow of a great horror of himself and his -past fell upon a man, how blessed to have such an institution as a -mediæval monastery wherein to hide the stricken head, and to learn -submission to the Divine Will. - -Such a home had Wulfnoth found at Dorchester Abbey. - -The year of his novitiate had passed, and he had won the favour of his -monastic superiors. We do not say he had always been as humble as a -novice should, or that he never, like Lot's wife, looked back again to -Sodom, but the good had triumphed, and the day came for his election as -a brother. - -Every day after the Chapter Mass which followed Terce, the daily -"Chapter" was held, wherein all matters of discipline were settled, -correction, if needed, administered, novices or brethren admitted by -common consent, and all other weighty business transacted. Here they met -four centuries later, when they affixed their reluctant seal to their -own dissolution, to avoid worse consequences. - -It was here that, after the ordinary business was over, the novice -Alphege, the once sanguinary Wulfnoth, rose with a calm and composed -exterior, but with a beating heart, to crave admission into the order by -taking the life vows. - -The Abbot signed to him to speak. - -"I, Wulfnoth the novice, crave admission to the full privileges and -prayers of the order, by taking the vows for life, as a brother -professed." - -There was silence for a space. - -Then the Abbot spoke-- - -"Hast thou duly considered the solemn step? Canst thou leave the world -behind thee--its friendships and its enmities? and hast thou considered -what hard and stern things we endure?" - -"I have, Father Abbot." - -"And the yet harder and sterner discipline which awaits the -transgressor?" - -"None of these things move me: I am prepared to bear yet harsher and -sterner things, if so be I may save my soul." - -"The Lord Jesus Christ so perform in you what for His love's sake you -promise, that you may have His grace and life eternal." - -"Amen," said all present. - -The rule of the order was then read aloud. - -"Here," said the Abbot, "is the law under which thou desirest to serve: -if thou canst observe it, enter; but if thou canst not, freely depart." - -"I will observe it, God being my helper." - -"Doth any brother know any just cause or impediment why Alphege the -novice should not be admitted to our brotherhood?" - -None was alleged. - -"Do you all admit him to a share in your sacrifices and prayers?" - -The hands were solemnly raised. - -"It is enough: prepare with prayer and fasting for the holy rite," said -the Abbot. - -For there was of course a solemn form of admission into the order yet to -be gone through in the Church, which we have not space to detail. - -It was not necessary that a monk should take Holy Orders, yet it was -commonly done; and dismissing the subject in a few words, we will simply -say that Wulfnoth took deacon's orders after he had taken the life vows, -and later on was ordained priest by Bishop Alexander of Lincoln, -aforesaid. - -His lot in life was now fixed: no longer was he in any danger from the -Lord of Wallingford; nor could he execute vengeance with sword and woe -for the household stricken so sorely by that baron's hands at Compton on -the downs. It was over--he left it all to Him Who once said, "Vengeance -is Mine, I will repay." Nor mindful of his own sins, did he pray for -such vengeance. He _left it_, and strove to pray for Brian. - -One bright day at the close of July the Abbot called him to ride with -him, for the order was not strictly a cloistered one, nor could it -indeed be; they had their landed estates, their tenantry, their farms to -look after. The offices were numerous, of necessity, and it was the -policy of the order to give each monk, if possible, some special duty or -office. Almost all they ate or drank was produced at home. The corn grew -on their own land; they had their own mill; the brethren brewed, baked, -or superintended lay brothers who did so. Other brethren were tailors, -shoemakers for the community; others gardeners; others, as we have seen, -scribes and illuminators; others kept the accounts--no small task.[23] -In short, none led the idle life commonly assigned in popular -estimation. - -They rode forth then, the Abbot Alured and Alphege, the new brother. -First into the town without the gates, far larger then than now, it was -partly surrounded by walls, partly protected by the Rivers Isis and -Tame; but within the space was a crowd of inhabitants dwelling in -houses, or rather huts; dwelling even in tents, like modern gypsies, -crowding the space within the walls, with good reason, for no man's life -was safe in the country, and here was sanctuary! Even Brian Fitz-Count -would respect Dorchester Abbey: even if some marauding baron assailed -the town, there was still the abbey church, or even the precincts for -temporary shelter. - -But food was scarce, and here lay the difficulty. The abbey revenues -were insufficient, for many of the farms had been burnt in the nightly -raids, and rents were ill-paid. Everything was scarce: many a hapless -mother, many a new-born babe, died from sheer want of the things -necessary to save; the strong lived through it, the weak sank under it: -there may have been those who found comfort, and said it was "the -survival of the fittest." - -Day by day was the dole given forth at the abbey gates; day by day the -hospitium was very crowded. The hospitaller was at his wits' end. And -the old infirmarer happening to die just then, folk said, "It was the -worry." - -"Who is sufficient for these things?" said Abbot Alured to his -companion, as they rode through the throng and emerged upon the road -leading to the hamlet of Brudecott (Burcot) and Cliffton (Clifton -Hampden). - -Their dress was a white cassock under a black cloak, with a hood -covering the head and neck and reaching to the shoulders, having under -it breeches, vest, white stockings and shoes; a black cornered cap, not -unlike the college cap of modern days, completed the attire. - -"Tell me, brother," said the Abbot, "what is thy especial vocation? what -office wouldst thou most desire to hold amongst us?" - -"I am little capable of discharging any weighty burden: thou knowest I -have been a man of war." - -"And he who once gave wounds should now learn to heal them. Our brother -the infirmarer has lately departed this life, full of good works--would -not that be the office for thee?" - -"I think I could discharge it better than I could most others." - -"It is well, then it shall be thine; it will be onerous just now. Ah me, -when will these wars be over?" - -"Methinks there was a great fire amongst the Chilterns last night--a -thick cloud of smoke lingers there yet." - -"It is surely Watlington--yes it is Watlington; they have burned it. -What can have chanced? it is under the protection of Shirburne." - -"I marvel we have had none of the people here, to seek hospitality and -aid." - -They arrived now at Brudecott, a hamlet on the Thames. One Nicholas de -Brudecott had held a mansion here, one knight's fee of the Bishop of -Lincoln; but the house had been burnt by midnight marauders. The place -was desolate: on the fields untilled a few poor people lived in huts, -protected by their poverty. - -They rode on to Cliffton, where the Abbot held three "virgates" of land, -with all the farm buildings and utensils for their cultivation; the -latter had escaped devastation, perhaps from the fact it was church -property, although even that was not always respected in those days. - -Upon the rock over the river stood the rustic church. Wulfnoth had often -served it as deacon, attending the priestly monk who said Mass each -Sunday there, for Dorchester took the tithes and did the duty. - -Here they crossed the river by a shallow ford where the bridge now -stands, and rode through Witeham (Wittenham), where the Abbot had -business connected with the monastery. The same desertion of the place -impressed itself upon their minds. Scarcely a living being was seen; -only a few old people, unable to bring themselves to forsake their -homes, lingered about half-ruined cottages. The parish priest yet lived -in the tower of the church, unwilling to forsake his flock, although -half the village was in ruins, and nearly all the able-bodied had taken -refuge in the towns. - -They were on the point of crossing the ford beneath Synodune Hill, -situated near the junction of Tame and Isis, when the Abbot suddenly -conceived the desire of ascending the hills and viewing the scene of -last night's conflagration from thence. They did so, and from the summit -of the eastern hill, within the entrenchment which still exists, and has -existed there from early British times, marked the cloud of black smoke -which arose from the ruins of Watlington. - -"What can have happened to the town--it is well defended with palisades -and trench?" - -Just then a powerful horseman, evidently a knight at the least, attended -by two squires, rode over the entrance of the vallum, and ascended to -the summit of the hill. He saluted the Abbot with a cold salute, and -then entered into conversation with his squires. - -"It is burning even yet, Osric; dost thou mark the black smoke?" - -"Thatch smoulders a long time, my lord," replied the squire addressed. - -The Abbot Alured happened to look round at Wulfnoth; he was quivering -with some suppressed emotion like an aspen leaf, and his hand -involuntarily sought the place where the hilt of his sword should have -been had he possessed one. - -"What ails thee, brother?" he said. - -"It is the destroyer of my home and family, Brian Fitz-Count," and -Wulfnoth drew the cowl over his head. - -The Abbot rode down the hill; he felt as if he were on the edge of a -volcano, and putting his hand on his companion's rein, forced him to -accompany him. - -It was strange that Wulfnoth did not also recognise his own _son_. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[23] Many monastic rolls of accounts remain, and their minuteness is -even startling. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -IN THE LOWEST DEPTHS - - -The morning watch looked forth from the summit of the lofty keep, which -rose above Wallingford Castle, to spy the dawning day. From that -elevation of two hundred feet he saw the light of the summer dawn break -forth over the Chiltern Hills in long streaks of azure, and amber light -flecked with purple and scarlet. The stream below caught the rays, and -assumed the congenial hue of blood; the sleepy town began to awake -beyond the castle precincts; light wreaths of smoke to ascend from roof -after roof--we can hardly say of those days chimney after chimney; the -men of the castle began to move, for there was no idleness under Brian's -rule; boats arrived by the stream bearing stores from the dependent -villages above and below, or even down from Oxford and up from Reading, -for the river was a great highway in those days. - -Ah, how like the distant view was to that we now behold from the -lessened height of the ruined keep! The everlasting hills were the same; -the river flowed in the same channel: and yet how unlike, for the -cultivated fields of the present day were mainly wood and marsh; dense -forests of bush clothed the Chilterns; Cholsey Common, naked and bare, -stretched on to the base of the downs; but on the west were the vast -forests which had filled the vale of White Horse in earlier times, and -now were but slightly broken into clearings, and diversified with -hamlets. - -But still more unlike, the men who began to wake into life! - -The gaolers were busy with the light breakfasts of their prisoners, or -attending to their cells, which they were forced sometimes to clean out, -to prevent a pestilence; the soldiers were busy attending to their -horses, and scouring their arms; the cooks were busy providing for so -many mouths; the butler was busy with his wines; the armourers and -blacksmiths with mail and weapons; the treasurer was busy with his -accounts, counting the value of last night's raid and assigning his -share of prize-money to each raider, for all had their share, each -according to rank, and so "moss-trooping" was highly popular. - -Even the Chaplain, as he returned from his hastily said Mass, which few -attended--only, indeed, the Lady of the Castle, Maude d'Oyley, and her -handmaidens--received his "bonus" as a bribe to Heaven, and pocketed it -without reflecting that it was the price of blood. He was the laziest -individual in the castle. Few there confessed their sins, and fewer -still troubled him in any other spiritual capacity. Still Brian kept him -for the sake of "being in form," as moderns say, and had purposely -sought out an accommodating conscience. - -In the terrace, which looked over the glacis towards the Thames, of -which the remains with one window _in situ_ may still be seen, was the -bower of Maude d'Oyley, wife of Brian Fitz-Count and sister of the Lord -of Oxford Castle, as we have before observed. It was called otherwise -"the solar chamber;" perhaps because it was best fitted with windows for -the admission of the sunlight, the openings in the walls being generally -rather loopholes than windows. - -The passion for great reception-rooms was as strong in mediæval days as -in our own, and the family apartments suffered for it,--being generally -small and low,--while the banqueting-hall was lofty and spacious, and -the Gothic windows, which looked into the inner quadrangle, were of -ample proportions. But the "ladye's bower" on the second floor consisted -of, first an ante-chamber, where a handmaiden always waited within -hearing of the little silver hand-bell; then a bower or boudoir; then -the bedroom proper. All these rooms were hung with rich tapestry, worked -by the lady and her handmaidens. For in those days, when books were -scarce, and few could read, the work of the needle and the loom was the -sole alleviation of many a solitary hour. - -The windows looked over the river, and were of horn, not very -transparent, only translucent; the outer world could but be dimly -discerned in daylight. - -There was a hearth at one end of the bower, and "dog-irons" upon it for -the reception of the logs, of which fires were chiefly composed, for -there was as yet no coal in use. - -There were two "curule" chairs, that is, chairs in the form of St. -Andrew's Cross, with cushions between the upper limbs, and no backs; -there were one or two very small round tables for the reception of -trifles, and "leaf-tables" between the windows. No one ever sat on these -"curule" chairs save those of exalted rank: three-legged stools were -good enough for ladies in waiting, and the like. - -The hangings, which concealed the bare walls, were very beautiful. On -one set was represented Lazarus and Dives; Father Abraham appeared very -much in the style of a mediæval noble, and on his knee, many sizes -smaller, sat Lazarus. In uncomfortable proximity to their seats was a -great yawning chasm, and smoke looking very substantial, as represented -in wool-work, arose thence, while some batlike creatures, supposed to be -fiends, sported here and there. On the other side lay Dives in the midst -of rosy flames of crimson wool, and his tongue, which was stretched out -for the drop of water, was of such a size, that one wondered how it ever -could have found space in the mouth. But for all this, the lesson taught -by the picture was not a bad one for the chambers of barons, if they -would but heed it; it is to be feared it was little heeded just then in -Wallingford Castle. - -There was no carpet on the floor, only rushes, from the marshes. The -Countess sat on her "curule" chair in front of the blazing fire. Three -maidens upon three-legged stools around her were engaged on embroidery. -They were all of high rank, entrusted to her guardianship, for she liked -to surround herself with blooming youth. _She_ was old,--her face was -wrinkled, her eyes were dull,--but she had a sweet smile, and was quite -an engaging old lady, although, of course, with the reserve which -became, or was supposed to become, her high rank. - -A timid knock at the door, and another maiden entered. - -"Jeannette, thou art late this evening." - -"I was detained in Dame Ursula's room; she needed my help, lady." - -"Wherefore?" - -"To attend to the wounded of last night's raid." - -"Ah, yes, we have heard but few particulars, and would fain learn more. -Send and see whether either of the young squires Osric or Alain can come -and give us the details." - -And shortly Osric entered, dressed in his handsomest tunic--the garb of -peace, and properly washed and combed for the presence of ladies. - -He bowed reverently to the great dame, of whom he stood in more awe than -of her stern husband: he was of that awkward age when lads are always -shy before ladies. - -But her kind manner cheered him. - -"So thou didst ride last night, Osric?" - -"I did, my lady." - -"Come, tell us all about it." - -"We started, as thou knowest, soon after the arrival of the prisoner -William Martel, to harry his lands." - -"We all saw you start; and I hear the Crowmarsh people saw you too." - -"And assailed us at Bensington." - -"And now tell me, my Osric, didst thou not slay one of Lord Ranulph's -people?" - -"I did, by my good fortune, and his ill-luck." - -"And so thou shouldst receive the meed of valour from the fair. Come, -what sayest thou, ladies?" - -"He should indeed; he is marvellous young to be so brave." - -"We are short of means to reward our brave knights and squires, but take -this ring;" and she gave one containing a valuable gem; "and we only -grieve it is not of more worth." - -So Osric, encouraged, continued his tale; and those fair ladies--and -fair they were--laughed merrily at his narration of the burning of -Watlington, and would have him spare no details. - -"Thou hast done well, my Osric. Come, thou wilt be a knight; thou dost -not now pine for the forest?" - -"Not now; I have grown to love adventures." - -"And it is so exciting to ride by night, as thou didst last winter with -the Empress Queen." - -"But I love the summer nights, with their sweet freshness, best." - -"Thou dost not remember thy boyhood with regret now, and wish it back -again?" - -"Not now." And Osric made his bow and departed. - -"There is a mystery about that youth; he is not English, as my lord -thinks; there is not an atom of it about him," said the Countess, and -fell into a fit of musing. - - ---- - -From the halls of pleasure let us turn to the dungeons beneath; but -first a digression. - -Even mediæval barons were forced to keep their accounts, or to employ, -more commonly, a "scrivener" or accountant for that purpose; and all -this morning Brian was closeted with his man of business, looking over -musty rolls and parchments, from which extract after extract was read, -bearing little other impression on the mind of the poor perplexed Baron -than that he was grievously behind in his finances. So he despatched the -scrivener to negotiate a farther advance--loan he called it--from the -mayor, while he summoned Osric, who was quick at figures, to his -presence. - -"There is scarcely enough money to pay the Brabanters, and they will -mutiny if kept short: that raid last night was a god-send," said Brian -to himself. - -Osric arrived. The Baron felt lighter of heart when the youth he loved -was with him. It was another case of Saul and David. And furthermore, -the likeness was not a superficial one. Often did Osric touch the harp, -and sing the lays of love and war to his patron, for so much had he -learned of his grandsire. - -They talked of the previous evening's adventures, and Brian was -delighted to draw Osric out, and to hear him express sentiments so -entirely at variance with his antecedents, as he did under the Baron's -deft questions. - -So they continued talking until the scrivener returned, and then the -Baron asked impatiently-- - -"Well, man! and what does the mayor say?" - -"That their resources are exhausted, and that you are very much in their -debt already." - -The reader need not marvel at this bold answer. Brian dared not use -violence to his own burghers; it would have been killing the goose who -laid the golden eggs. In our men of commerce began the first germs of -English liberty. Men would sometimes yield to all other kinds of -violence, but the freemen of the towns, even amidst the wild barons of -Germany, held their own; and so did the burgesses of Wallingford: they -had their charter signed and sealed by Brian, and ratified by Henry the -First. - -"The greedy caitiffs," he said; "well, we must go and see the dungeons. -Osric, come with me." - -Osric had seldom been permitted to do this before. He had only once or -twice been "down below." Perhaps Brian had feared to shock him, and now -thought him seasoned, as indeed he seemed to be the night before, and in -his talk that day. - -And here let me advise my gentler readers, who hate to read of violence -and cruelty, to skip the rest of this chapter, which may be read by -stronger-minded readers as essential to a complete picture of life at -Wallingford Castle. What men once had to bear, we may bear to read. - -They went first to the dungeon in the north tower, where William, Lord -of Shirburne, was confined. Tustain the gaoler and two satellites -attended, and opened the door of the cell. It was a cold, bare room: a -box stuffed with leaves and straw, with a coverlet and pillow for a bed; -a rough bench; a rude table--that was all. - -The prisoner could not enjoy the scenery; his only light was from a -grated window above, of too small dimensions to allow a man to pass -through, even were the bars removed. - -"How dost thou like my hospitality, William of Shirburne?" - -"I suppose it is as good as I should have shown thee." - -"Doubtless: we know each other. Now, what wilt thou pay for thy ransom?" - -"A thousand marks." - -Brian laughed grimly. - -"Thou ratest thyself at the price of an old Jew." - -"What dost thou ask?" - -"Ten thousand marks, or the Castle of Shirburne and its domains." - -"Never! thou villain--robber!" - -"Thou wilt change thy mind: thou mayst despatch a messenger for the -money, who shall have free conduct to come and go; and mark me, if thou -dost not pay within a week, thou shalt be manacled and removed to the -dungeons below, to herd with my defaulting debtors, and a week after to -a lower depth still." - -Then he turned as if to depart, but paused and said, "It is a pity this -window is so high in the wall, otherwise thou mightst have seen a fine -blaze last night about Shirburne and its domains." - -He laughed exultantly. - -"Do thy worst, thou son of perdition; my turn may yet come," replied -Martel. - -And the Baron departed, accompanied still by Osric. - -"Osric," said he, "thou hast often asked to visit the lower dungeons: -thou mayst have thy wish, and see how we house our guests there; and -also in a different capacity renew thine acquaintance with the -torture-chambers: thou shalt be the notary." - -"My lord, thou dost recall cruel memories." - -"Nay, it was for love of thee. I have no son, and my bowels yearned for -one; it was gentle violence for thine own good. I know not how it was, -but I could not even then have done more than frighten thee. Thou wilt -see I can hurt others without wincing. Say, wouldst thou fear to see -what torture is like? it may fall to thy duty to inflict it some day, -and in these times one must get hardened either to inflict or endure." - -"I may as well learn all I have to learn; but I love it not. I do not -object to fighting; but in cold blood----" - -"Well, here is the door which descends to the lower realms." - -They descended through a yawning portal to the dungeons. The steps were -of gray stone: they went down some twenty or thirty, and then entered a -corridor--dark and gloomy--from which opened many doors on either side. - -Dark, but not silent. Many a sigh, many a groan, came from behind those -doors, but neither Brian nor his squire heeded them. - -"Which shall I open first?" said Tustain. - -"The cell of Nathan, the Abingdon Jew." - -The door was a huge block of stone, turning upon a pivot. It disclosed a -small recess, about six feet by four, paved with stone, upon which lay -some foul and damp litter. A man was crouched upon this, with a long, -matted beard, looking the picture of helpless misery. - -"Well, Nathan, hast been my guest long enough? Will not change of air -do thee good?" - -"I have no more money to give thee." - -"Then I must bid the tormentor visit thee again. Thy race is accursed, -and I cannot offer a better burnt-offering to Heaven than a Jew." - -"Mercy, Baron! I have borne so much already." - -"Mercy is to be bought: the price is a thousand marks of gold." - -"I have not a hundred." - -"Osric," said Brian; and gave his squire instructions to fetch the -tormentor. - -"We will spare thee the grate yet awhile; but I have another plan in -view. Coupe-gorge, canst thou draw teeth?" - -"Yes," said the tormentor, grinning, who had come at Osric's bidding. - -"Then bring me a tooth from the mouth of this Nathan every day until his -ransom arrive. Nathan, thou mayst write home--a letter for each tooth." -And with a merry laugh they passed on to the other dungeons. - -There was one who shared his cell with toads and adders, introduced for -his discomfort; another round whose neck and throat a hideous thing -called a _sachentage_ was fastened. It was thus made: it was fastened to -a beam, and had a sharp iron to go round a man's neck and throat, so -that he might nowise sit or lie or sleep, but he bore all the iron. - -In short, the castle was full of prisoners, and they were subjected to -daily tortures to make them disclose their supposed hidden treasures, or -pay the desired ransom. Here were many hapless Jews, always the first -objects of cruelty in the Middle Ages; here many usurers, paying -interest more heavy than they had ever charged others; here also many of -the noblest and purest mixed up with some of the vilest upon earth. - -Well might the townspeople complain that they were startled in their -sleep by the cries and shrieks which came from the grim towers. - -And the Baron, followed by Osric, went from dungeon to dungeon; in some -cases obtaining promises of ransom to be paid, in others hearing of -treasures, real or imaginary, buried in certain places, which he bid -Osric note, that search might be made. - -"Woe to them who fool me," he said. - -Then they came to a dungeon in which was a chest, sharp and narrow, in -which one poor tormented wight lay in company with sharp flints; as the -light of the torch they bore flashed upon him, his eyes, red and lurid, -gleamed through the open iron framework of the lid which fastened him -down. - -"This man was the second in command of a band of English outlaws, who -made much spoil at Norman expense. Now I slew his chief in fair combat -on the downs, and this man succeeded him, and waged war for a long time, -until I took him; and here he is. How now, Herwald, dost want to get out -of thy chest?" - -A deep groan was the only reply. - -"Then disclose to me the hidden treasures of thy band." - -"We have none." - -"Persevere then in that lie, and die in thy misery." - -Osric felt very sick. He had not the nerves of his chief, and now he -felt as if he were helping the torture of his own countrymen; and, -moreover, there was a yet deeper feeling. Recollections were brought to -his mind in that loathsome dungeon which, although indistinct and -confused, yet had some connection with his own early life. What had his -father been? The grandfather had carefully hidden all those facts, known -to the reader, from Osric, but old Judith had dropped obscure hints. - -He longed to get out of this accursed depth into the light of day, yet -felt ashamed of his own weakness. He heard the misery of these dens -turned into a joke by Alain and others every day. He had brought -prisoners into the castle himself--for the hideous receptacles--and been -complimented on his prowess and success; yet humanity was not quite -extinguished in his breast, and he felt sick of the scenes. - -But he had not done. They came to the torture-chamber, where -recalcitrant prisoners, who would not own their wealth, were hanged up -by the feet and smoked with foul smoke: some were hanged up by the -thumbs, others by the head, and burning rings were put on their feet. -The torturers put knotted strings about men's heads, and writhed them -till they went into the brain. In short, the horrid paraphernalia of -cruelty was entered into that day with the utmost zest, and all for -gold, accursed gold--at least, that was the first object; but we fear at -last the mere love of cruelty was half the incitement to such doings. - -And all this time Brian sat as judge, and directed the torturers with -eye or hand; and Osric had to take notes of the things the poor wretches -said in their delirium. - -At last it was over, and they ascended to the upper day. - -"How dost thou like it, Osric?" said Alain, whom they met on the -ramparts. - -Osric shook his head. - -"It is nothing when you are used to it; I used to feel squeamish at -first." - -"I never shall like it," whispered Osric. - -The whisper was so earnest that Alain looked at him in surprise; Osric -only answered by something like a sigh. The Baron heard him not. - -"Thou hast done well for a beginner," said Brian; "how dost thou like -the torture chamber?" - -"I was there in another capacity once." - -"And thou hast not forgot it. But we must remember these _canaille_ are -only made for such uses--only to disgorge their wealth for their -betters, or to furnish sport." - -"How should we like it ourselves?" - -"You might as well object to eating venison, and say how should we like -it if we were the deer?" - -"But does not God look upon all alike?" - -They were on the castle green. Upon the sward some ants had raised a -little hill. - -"Look at these ants," said Brian; "I believe they have a sort of kingdom -amongst themselves--some are priests, some masters, some slaves, one is -king, and the like: to themselves they seem very important. Now I will -place my foot upon the hill, and ruin their republic. Just so are the -gods to us, if there be gods. They care as little about men as I about -the ants; our joys, our griefs, our good deeds, our bad deeds, are alike -to them. I was in deep affliction once about my poor leprous boys. I -prayed with all my might; I gave alms; I had Masses said--all in vain. -Now I go my own way, and you see I do not altogether fail of success, -although I buy it with the tears and blood of other men." - -This seemed startling, nay, terrible to Osric. - -"Yet, Osric, I can love, and I can reward fidelity; be true to me, and I -will be truer to you than God was to me--that is, if there be a God, -which I doubt." - -Osric shuddered; and well he might at this impious defiance. - -Then this strange man was seized with a remorse, which showed that after -all there was yet some good left in him. - -"Nay, pardon me, my Osric; I wish not to shake thy faith; if it make -thee happy, keep it. Mine are perchance the ravings of disappointment -and despair. There are times when I think the most wretched of my -captives happier than I. Nay, _keep_ thy faith if thou canst." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -MEINHOLD AND HIS PUPILS - - -We are loth to leave our readers too long in the den of tyranny: we pant -for free air; for the woods, even if we share them with hermits and -lepers--anything rather than the towers of Wallingford under Brian -Fitz-Count, his troopers and free lances. - -So we will fly to the hermitage where his innocent sons have found -refuge for two years past, under the fostering care of Meinhold the -hermit, and see how they fare. - -First of all, they had not been reclaimed to Byfield. It is true they -had been traced, and Meinhold had been "interviewed"; but so earnestly -had both he and the boys pleaded that they might be allowed to remain -where they were, that assent was willingly given, even Father Ambrose -feeling that it was for the best; only an assurance was required that -they would not stray from the neighbourhood of the cell, and it was -readily given. - -Of course their father was informed, and he made no opposition,--the -poor boys were dead to him and the world. Leprosy was incurable: if they -were happy--"let them be." - -So they enjoyed the sweet, simple life of the forest. They found -playmates in every bird and beast; they learned to read at last; they -joined the hermit in the recitation of two at least of the "hours" each -day--_Lauds_ and _Vespers_, the morning and evening offerings of praise. -They learned to sing, and chanted _Benedictus_ and _Magnificat_, as well -as the hymns _Ecce nunc umbræ_ and _Lucis Creator optime_. - -"We sing very badly, do we not?" - -"Not worse than the brethren of St. Bernard." - -"Tell us about them." - -"They settled in a wild forest,--about a dozen in number. They could not -sing their offices, for they lacked an ear for music; but they said God -should at least be honoured by the _Magnificat_ in song; so they did -their best, although it is said they frightened the very birds away. - -"Now one day a wandering boy, the son of a minstrel, came that way and -craved hospitality. He joined them at Vespers, and when they came to the -_Magnificat_, he took up the strain and sang it so sweetly that the -birds all came back and listened, entranced; and the old monks were -silent lest they should spoil so sweet a chant with their croaking and -nasal tones. - -"That evening an Angel flew straight from Heaven and came to the prior. - -"'My lady hath sent me to learn why _Magnificat_ was not sung to-night?' - -"'It was sung indeed--so beautifully.' - -"'Nay, it ascended no farther than human ken; the singer was only -thinking of his own sweet voice.' - -"Then they sent that boy away; and, doubtless, he found his consolation -amongst troubadours and trouveres. So you see, my children, the heart is -everything--not the voice." - -"Yet I should not like to sing so badly as to frighten the birds away," -said Richard. - -So the months passed away; and meanwhile the leprosy made its insidious -progress. The red spot on the hermit's hand deepened and widened until -the centre became white as snow; and so it formed a ghastly ring, which -began to ulcerate in the centre, the ulcer eating deep into the flesh. - -Richard's arm was now wholly infected, and the elbow-joint began to get -useless. Evroult's disease extended to the neighbouring regions of the -face, and disfigured the poor lad terribly. - -Such were the stages of this terrible disease; but there was little -pain attending it--only a sense of uneasiness, sometimes feverish heats -or sudden chills, resembling in their nature those which attend marsh or -jungle fevers, ague, and the like. Happily these symptoms were not -constant. - -And through these stages the unfortunate boys we have introduced to our -readers were slowly passing; but the transitions were so gradual that -the patient became almost hardened to them. Richard was so patient; he -had no longer a left hand, but he never complained. - -"It is the road, dear child, God has chosen for us, and His Name is -'Love,'" said the hermit. "Every step of the way has been foreordained -by Him Who tasted the bitter cup for us; and when we have gained the -shore of eternity we shall see that infinite wisdom ordered it all for -the best." - -"Is it really so? Can it be for the best?" said Evroult. - -"Listen, my son: this is God's Word; let me read it to you." And from -his Breviary he read this extract from that wondrous Epistle to the -Romans-- - -"'For we know that all things work together for good to them that love -God, who are the called according to His purpose.'" - -"Now God has called you out of this wicked world: you might have spent -turbid, restless lives of fighting and bloodshed, chasing the phantom -called 'glory,' and then have died and gone where all hope is left -behind. Is it not better?" - -"Yes, _it is_," said Richard; "_it is_, Evroult, is it not--better as it -is?" - -"Nay, Richard, but had I been well, I had been a knight like my father. -Oh, what have we not lost!" - -"An awful doom at the end perhaps," said Meinhold. "Let me tell you what -I saw with mine own eyes. A rich baron died near here who had won great -renown in the wars, in which, nevertheless, he had been as merciless as -barons too often are. Well, he left great gifts to the Church, and money -for many Masses for his soul: so he was buried with great pomp--brought -to be buried, I mean, in the priory church he had founded. - -"Now when we came to the solemn portion of the service, when the words -are said which convey the last absolution and benediction of the Church, -the corpse sat upright in the bier and said, in an awful tone, 'By the -justice of God, I am condemned to Hell.' The prior could not proceed; -the body was left lying on the bier; and at last it was decided so to -leave it till the next day, and then resume the service. - -"But the second day, when the same words were repeated, the corpse rose -again and said, 'By the justice of God, I am condemned to Hell.' - -"We waited till the third day, determined if the interruption occurred -again to abandon the design of burying the deceased baron in the church -he had founded. A great crowd assembled around, but only the monks dared -to enter the church where the body lay. A third time we came to the same -words in the office, and we who were in the choir saw the body rise in -the winding-sheet, the dull eyes glisten into life, and heard the awful -words for the third time, 'By the justice of God, I am condemned to -Hell.' - -"After a long pause, during which we all knelt, horror-struck, the prior -bade us take the body from the church, and bade his friends lay it in -unconsecrated ground, away from the church he had founded. So you see a -man of blood cannot always bribe Heaven with gifts." - -"It is no use then to found churches and monasteries; I have heard my -father say the same," said Evroult. - -"Yet in any case it is better than to build castles to become dens of -cruelty--to torture captives and spread terror through a neighbourhood." - -"It is pleasant to be the lord of such a castle," said the incorrigible -Evroult, "and to be the master of all around." - -"And, alas, my boy, if it end in like manner with you as with the baron -whose story I have just related, of what avail will it all be?" - -"Yes, brother, we are better as we are; God meant it for our good, and -we may thank Him for it," said Richard quite sincerely. - -Evroult only sighed as a wolf might were he told how much more -nutritious grass is than mutton; inherited instinct, unsubdued as yet by -grace, was too strong within him. But let us admire his truthfulness; he -would not say what he did not mean. Many in his place would have said -"yes" to please his brother and the kind old hermit, but Evroult scorned -such meanness. - -There is little question that had he escaped this scourge he would have -made a worthy successor to Brian Fitz-Count, but-- - - - "His lot forbade, nor circumscribed alone - His growing virtues but his crimes confined, - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, - Or shut the gates of mercy on mankind." - - -Still, let it be remembered, that in Stephen's days we see only the -worst side of the Norman nobility. In less than a century the barons -rallied around that man of God, Stephen Langton, and wrested Magna -Charta from the tyrant John, the worst of the Plantagenets. Proud by -that time of the name "Englishmen," they laid the foundations of our -greatness, and jealously guarded our constitutional liberties; and it -was not until after the Wars of the Roses, in which so many of the -ancient houses perished, that a Norman baron was said to be "as scarce -as a wolf," that the Bloodstained House of Tudor was enabled to trample -upon English liberty, and to reign as absolute monarchs over a prostrate -commonalty. - -All through the summer our boys were very happy, in spite of Evroult's -occasional longings for the world. They cultivated a garden hard by -their cave, and they gathered the roots and fruits of the forest for -their frugal repast. They parched the corn; they boiled the milk and -eggs which the rustics spontaneously brought; they made the bread and -baked the oatcakes. They were quite vegetarians now, save the milk and -eggs; and throve upon their simple fare; but it took, as our readers -perceive, a long course of vegetable diet to take the fire out of -Evroult. - -Then came the fall of the leaf, when the trees, like some vain mortals, -put on their richest clothing wherein to die; and damps and mists arose -around, driving them within the shelter of their cave; then winter with -its chilling frosts, keener then than now, and their stream was turned -into ice. And had they not, like the ants, laid by in summer, they would -have starved sadly in winter. - -In the inner cave was a natural chimney, an orifice communicating with -the outer air. Fuel was plentiful in the forest, and as they sat around -the fire, Meinhold told them stories of the visible and invisible world, -more or less, of course, of a supernatural character, like those we have -already heard. His was an imaginary world, full of quaint superstitions -which were very harmless, for they left the soul even more reliant and -dependent upon Divine help; for was not this a world wherein Angels and -demons engaged in terrestrial warfare, man's soul the prize? and were -not the rites and Sacraments of the Church sent to counteract the spells -and snares of the phantom host? - -And as they sat around their fire, the wind made wild and awful music in -the subterranean caves: sometimes it shrieked, then moaned, as if under -the current of earthly origin there was a perpetual wail of souls in -pain. - -"Father, may not these passages lead down to Purgatory, or even to the -abode of the lost?" - -"Nay, my child, I think it only the wind;" but he shuddered as he spoke. - -"You think _they_ lie beneath the earth, Richard?" - -"Yes, the heavens above the stars, which are like the golden nails of -its floor; the earth--our scene of conflict beneath; and the depths -below for those who fail and reject their salvation," said Meinhold, -replying for the younger boy. - -"Then the burning mountains of which we have heard are the portals of -hell?" - -"So it is commonly supposed," said the hermit. The reader will laugh at -his simple cosmogony: he had no idea, poor man, that the earth is round. - -"Please let me explore these caves," said Evroult. - -"Art thou not afraid?" said Meinhold. - -"No," said he; "I am never afraid." - -"But I fear _for_ thee; there are dark chasms and a black gulf within, -and I fear, my child, lest they be tenanted by evil spirits, and that -the sounds we hear at night be not all idle winds." - -"You once said they were winds." - -"Yes, but do winds utter blasphemies?" - -"Never." - -"Of course not. Is it not written, 'O all ye winds of God, bless ye the -Lord?' Now as I lay on my bed last night, methought the sounds took -articulate form, and they were words of cursing and blasphemy, such as -might have come from a lost soul." - -A modern would say that the hermit had a sort of nightmare, but in those -credulous days the supernatural solution was always accepted. - -"And, my son, if there be, as I fear, evil spirits who lurk in the -bowels of the earth, and lure men to their destruction, I would not -allow thee to rush into danger." - -"No, brother, think no more of it," said Richard. - -And Evroult promised not to do so, if he could help it. - -"There be caves in the African deserts, of which I have heard, where -fiends do haunt, and terrify travellers even to death. One there was -which was, to look upon, the shadow of a great rock in a weary land, but -they who passed a night there--and it was the only resting-place in the -desert for many weary miles--went mad, frightened out of their senses -by some awful vision which blasted those who gazed." - -"But ought Christian men to fear such things?" - -"No; neither ought they without a call to endanger themselves: 'He shall -give His Angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways.' Now our -way does not lie through these dark abodes." - -So the caves remained unexplored. - -But we must return to Wallingford Castle again, and the active life of -the fighting world of King Stephen's days. Suffice it for the present to -say, that the lives of the hermit and his two pupils, for such they -were, continued to roll on uneventfully for many months--indeed, until -the occurrence of totally unexpected events, which we shall narrate in -due course. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -A DEATHBED DISCLOSURE - - -An excessive rainfall during the late summer of this year destroyed the -hopes of the harvest,--such hopes as there were, for tillage had been -abandoned, save where the protection of some powerful baron gave a fair -probability of gathering in the crops. In consequence a dreadful famine -succeeded during the winter, aggravated by the intense cold, for a frost -set in at the beginning of December and lasted without intermission till -February, so that the Thames was again frozen, and the ordinary passage -of man and horse was on the ice of the river. - -The poor people, says the author of _The Acts of King Stephen_, died in -heaps, and so escaped the miseries of this sinful world,--a phrase of -more meaning then, in people's ears, than it is now, when life is -doubtless better worth living than it could have been then, in King -Stephen's days, when horrible and unexampled atrocities disgraced the -nation daily, and the misery of the poor was caused by the cruel tyranny -of the rich and powerful. - -All this time our young friend Osric continued to be the favourite -squire of Brian Fitz-Count, and, we grieve to say, became habituated to -crime and violence. He no longer shuddered as of yore at the atrocities -committed in the dungeons of the castle, or in the constant raids: the -conscience soon became blunted, and he felt an ever-increasing delight -in strife and bloodshed, the joy of the combat, and in deeds of valour. - -_Facilis descensus averno_, wrote the poet, or, as it has been -Englished-- - - - "The gate of Hell stands open night and day, - Smooth the descent, and easy is the way; - But to return and view the upper skies, - In this the toil, in this the labour lies." - - -For a long period he had not visited his grandfather--the reader will -easily guess why; but he took care that out of Brian's prodigal bounty -the daily wants of the old man should be supplied, and he thought all -was well there--he did not know that the recipient never made use of -Brian's bounty. He had become ashamed of his English ancestry: it needed -a thunder-clap to recall him to his better self. - -There were few secrets Brian concealed from his favourite squire, now an -aspirant for knighthood, and tolerably sure to obtain his wish in a few -more months. The deepest dungeons in the castle were known to him, the -various sources of revenue, the claims for feudal dues, the tribute paid -for protection, the rentals of lands, the purchase of forest rights, -and, less creditable, the sums extracted by torture or paid for -ransom,--all these were known to Osric, whose keen wits were often -called on to assist the Baron's more sluggish intellect in such matters. - -Alain was seldom at Wallingford; he had already been knighted by the -Empress Maude, and was high in her favour, and in attendance on her -person, so Osric lacked his most formidable rival in the Baron's graces. - -He could come and go almost when he pleased; he knew the secret exit to -the castle, only known to a few chief confidants--two or three at the -most, who had been allowed to use it on special necessity. - -It led to a landing-place on the bank of the river, and blindfolded -prisoners, to be kept in secret, were sometimes introduced to their -doleful lodgings through this entrance. - -Active in war, a favourite in the bower, possessing a good hand at -games, a quick eye for business, Osric soon became a necessity to Brian -Fitz-Count: his star was in the ascendant, and men said Brian would -adopt him as his son. - -Constitutionally fearless, a born lover of combat, a good archer who -could kill a bird on the wing, a fair swordsman, skilled in the -exercises of chivalry,--what more was needed to make a young man happy -in those days? - -A quiet conscience? Well, Osric had quieted his: he was fast becoming a -convert to Brian's sceptical opinions, which alone could justify his -present course of action. - -The castle was increasing: the dungeon aforementioned had been built, -called Brian's Close,[24] with surmounting towers. The unhappy William -Martel was its first inmate, and there he remained until his obstinacy -was conquered, and the Castle of Shirburne ceded to Brian, with the -large tract of country it governed and the right of way across the -Chilterns. - -Brian Fitz-Count was now at the height of his glory--the Empress was -mistress of half the realm; he was her chief favourite and -minister--when events occurred which somewhat disturbed his serene -self-complacency, and seemed to infer the existence of a God of justice -and vengeance. - - ---- - -It was early one fine day when a messenger from the woods reached the -castle, and with some difficulty found access to Osric, bringing the -tidings that his grandfather was dying, and would fain see him once more -before he died. - -"Dying! well, he is very old; we must all die," was Osric's first -thought, coupled with a sense of relief, which he tried to disguise from -himself, that a troublesome Mentor was about to be removed. Now he might -feel like a _Norman_, but he had still a lingering love for the old man, -the kind and loving guardian of his early years; so he sought Brian, and -craved leave of absence. - -"It is awkward," replied the Baron; "I was about to send thee to -Shirburne. We have conquered Martel's resolution at last. I threatened -that the rack should not longer be withheld, and that we would make him -a full foot longer than God created him. Darkness and scant food have -tamed him. Had we kept him in his first prison, with light and air, with -corn and wine, he would never have given way. After all, endurance is a -thing very dependent on the stomach." - -"I will return to-morrow, my lord;" and Osric looked pleadingly at him. - -"Not later. I cannot go to Shirburne myself, as I am expecting an -important messenger from _Queen_ Maude (of course _he_ called her -Queen), and can trust none other but thee." - -"It is not likely that any other claim will come between me and thee, my -lord; this is passing away, and I shall be wholly thine." - -The Baron smiled; his proud heart was touched. - -"Go, then, Osric," he said, "and return to-morrow." - -And so they parted. - - ---- - -Osric rode rapidly through the woods, up the course of the brook; we -described the road in our second chapter. He passed the Moor-towns, left -the Roman camp of Blewburton on the left, and was soon in the thick maze -of swamp and wood which then occupied the country about Blewbery. - -As he drew near the old home, many recollections crowded upon him, and -he felt, as he always did there, something more like an Englishman. It -was for this very reason he so seldom came "home" to visit his -grandfather. - -He found his way across the streams: the undergrowth had all been -renewed since the fire which the hunters kindled four years agone; the -birds were singing sweetly, for it was the happy springtide for them, -and they were little affected by the causes which brought misery to less -favoured mankind; the foliage was thick, the sweet hawthorn exhaled its -perfume, the bushes were bright with "May." Ah me, how lovely the woods -are in spring! how happy even this world might be, had man never sinned. - -But within the hut were the unequivocal signs of the rupture between man -and his Maker--the tokens which have ever existed since by sin came -death. - -Upon the bed in the inner room lay old Sexwulf, in the last stage of -senile decay. He was dying of no distinct disease, only of general -breaking-up of the system. Man cannot live for ever; he wears out in -time, even if he escape disease. - -The features were worn and haggard, the eye was yet bright, the mind -powerful to the last. - -He saw the delight of his eyes, the darling of his old age, enter, and -looked sadly upon him, almost reproachfully. The youth took his passive -hand in his warm grasp, and imprinted a kiss upon the wrinkled forehead. - -"He has had all he needed--nothing has been wanting for his comfort?" -said Osric inquiringly. - -"We have been able to keep him alive, but he would not touch your gold, -or aught you sent of late." - -"Why not?" asked Osric, deeply hurt. - -"He said it was the price of blood, wrung, it might be, from the hands -of murdered peasants of your own kindred." - -Ah! that shaft went home. Osric knew it was _just_. What else was the -greater portion of the Baron's hoard derived from, save rapine and -violence? - -"It was cruel to let him starve." - -"He has not starved; we have had other friends, but the famine has been -sore in the land." - -"Other friends! who?" - -"Yes; especially the good monks of Dorchester." - -"What do they know of my grandfather?" - -Judith pursed up her lips, as much as to say, "That is my secret, and if -you had brought the thumb-screws, of which you know the use too well, -you should not get it out of me." - -"Osric," said a deep, yet feeble voice. - -The youth returned to the bedside. - -"Osric, I am dying. They say the tongues of dying men speak sooth, and -it may be because, as the gates of eternity open before them, the -vanities of earth disappear. Now I have a last message to leave for you, -a tale to unfold before I die, which cannot fail of its effect upon your -heart. It is the secret entrusted to me when you were brought an infant -to this hut, which I was forbidden to unfold until you had gained years -of discretion. It may be, my dear child, you have not yet gained them--I -trow not, from what I hear." - -"What harm have mine enemies told of me?" - -"_That_ thou shalt hear by and by; meanwhile let me unfold my tale, for -the sands of life are running out. It was some seventeen years ago this -last autumn, that thy father----" - -"Who was he--thou hast ever concealed his name?" - -"Wulfnoth of Compton." - -Osric started. - -"Doth he live?" - -"He doth." - -"Where?" - -"He is a monk of Dorchester Abbey. I may tell the secret now; Brian -himself could not hurt him there." - -"Why should he _wish_ to hurt him?" - -"Listen, and your ears shall learn the truth. Thy father was my guest in -this hut. Seventeen years ago this last autumn he had been hunting all -day, and was on the down above, near the mound where Holy Birinus once -preached, as the sun set, when he perceived, a few miles away, the -flames of a burning house, and knew that it was his own, for he lived in -a recess of the downs far from other houses. He hurried towards the -scene, sick with fear, but it was miles away, and when he reached the -spot he saw a dark band passing along the downs, a short distance off, -in the opposite direction. His heart told him they were the -incendiaries, but he stopped not for vengeance. Love to his wife and -children hurried him on. When he arrived the roof had long since fallen -in; a few pitying neighbours stood around, and shook their heads as they -saw him, and heard his pitiful cries for his wife and children. Fain -would he have thrown himself into the flames, but they restrained him, -and told him he had one child yet to live for, accidentally absent at -the house of a neighbour.--It was thou, my son." - -"But who had burnt the house? Who had slain my poor mother, and my -brothers and sisters, if I had any?" - -"Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of Wallingford." - -"Brian Fitz-Count!" said Osric in horror. - -"None other." - -Osric stood aghast--confounded. - -"Because your father would not pay tribute, maintaining that the land -was his own freehold since it had been confirmed to his father, thy -paternal grandfather, by the Norman courts, which acknowledged no -tenure, no right of possession, dating before the Conquest; but Wigod of -Wallingford was thy grandfather's friend, and he had secured to him the -possession of the ancestral domains. This Brian denied, and claimed the -rent of his vassal, as he deemed thy father. Thy father refused to obey, -and appealed to the courts, and Brian's answer was this deed of murder." - -Osric listened as one in a dream. - -"Oh, my poor father! What did he do?" - -"He brought thee here. 'Henceforth,' he said, 'I am about to live the -life of a hunted wolf, my sole solace to slay Normans: sooner or later I -shall perish by their hands, for Satan is on their side, and helps them, -and God and His Saints are asleep; but take care of my child; let him -not learn the sad story of his birth till he be of age; nor let him even -know his father's name. Only let him be brought up as an Englishman; and -if he live to years of discretion, thou mayst tell him all, if I return -not to claim him before then.'" - -"And he has never returned--never?" - -"Never: he became a captain of an outlawed band, haunting the forests -and slaying Normans, until, four years ago, he met Brian Fitz-Count -alone on these downs, and the two fought to the death." - -"And Brian conquered?" - -"He did, and left thy father for dead; but the good monks of Dorchester -chanced to be passing across the downs from their house at Hermitage, -and they found the body, and discovered that there was yet life therein. -They took him to Dorchester, and as he was unable to use sword or lance -again, he consented to take the vows, and become a novice. He found his -vocation, and is now, I am told, happy and useful, fervent in his -ministrations amongst the poor and helpless; but he has never yet been -here. - -"And now, Osric, my son," for the youth sat as one stunned, "what is it -that I hear of thee?--that thou art, like a cannibal,[25] preying upon -thine own people; that thy hand is foremost in every deed of violence -and bloodshed; that thou art a willing slave of the murderer of thy -kindred. Boy, I wonder thy mother has not returned from the grave to -curse thee!" - -"Why--why did you let me become his man?" - -The old man felt the justice of the words. - -"Why did you not let me die first?" - -"Thou forgettest I was not by thee when thou didst consent, or I might -have prevented thee by telling thee the truth even at that terrible -moment; but when thou wast already pledged to him, I waited for the time -when I might tell thee, never thinking thou wouldst become a _willing_ -slave or join in such deeds of atrocity and crime as thou hast done." - -"Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?" - -"Thou canst not return, now thou knowest all." - -"Never; but he will seek me here." - -"Then thou must fly the country." - -"Whither shall I go? are any of my father's band left?" - -"Herwald, his successor, fell into the power of Brian, and we know not -what was done with him; nor whether he is living or dead." - -But Osric knew: he remembered the chest half filled with sharp stones -and its living victim. - -"One Thorold succeeded, and they still maintain a precarious existence -in the forests." - -"I will seek them; I will yet be true to my country, and avenge my -kindred upon Brian. But oh, grandfather, he has been so good to me! I am -his favourite, his confidant; he was about to knight me. Oh, how -miserable it all is! Would I had never lived--would I were dead." - -"He has been thy worst foe. He has taught thee to slay thine own people, -nay, to torture them; he has taught thee--tell me, is it not true?--even -to deny thy God." - -"It is true, he has; but not intentionally." - -"Thou owest him nought." - -"Yet I did love him, and would have died sooner than be faithless to -him." - -"So do sorcerers, as I have been told, love Satan, yet it is happy when -they violate that awful faith. Choose, my son, between thy God, thy -country, thy slaughtered kindred, and Brian." - -"I do choose--I renounce him: he shall never see me again." - -"Fly the country then; seek another clime; go on pilgrimage; take the -cross; and employ thy valour and skill against the Saracens--the -Moslems, the enemies of God." - -"I will, God being my helper." - -"Thou dost believe then in the God of thy fathers?" - -"I think I always did, save when Brian was near. I tried not to believe, -happily in vain." - -"_He_ will forgive thee--_He_ is all-merciful. The prodigal son has -returned. Now I am weary: let me rest--let me rest." - -Osric wandered forth into the woods. Who shall describe his emotions? It -was as when S. Remigius said to the heathen Clovis, "Burn that thou hast -adored, and adore that thou hast burnt." But the terrible story of the -destruction of his kindred, familiar as he was with like scenes, -overcame him; yet he could not help blaming his father for his long -neglect. Why had he disowned his only surviving son? why had he not -trained him up in the ways of the woods, and in hatred of the Normans? -why had he left him to the mercies of Brian Fitz-Count? - -Then again came the remembrance of that strange partiality, even -amounting to fondness, which Brian had ever shown him, and he could but -contrast the coldness and indifference of his own father with the -fostering care of the awful Lord of Wallingford. - -But blood is thicker than water: he could no longer serve the murderer -of his kindred--Heaven itself would denounce such an alliance; yet he -did not even now wish to wreak vengeance. He could not turn so suddenly: -the old man's solution was the right one--he would fly the country and -go to the Crusades. - -But how to get out of England? it was no easy matter. The chances were -twenty to one that he would either meet his death from some roving band -or be forcibly compelled to join them. - -The solution suddenly presented itself. - -He would seek his father, take sanctuary at Dorchester, and claim his -aid. Even Brian could not drag him thence; and the monks of all men -would and could assist him to join the Crusades. - -Strong in this resolution, he returned to the cottage. - -"Your grandfather is asleep; you must not disturb him, Osric, my dear -boy." - -"Very well, my old nurse, I will sleep too; my heart is very heavy." - -He lay down on a pile of leaves and rushes in the outer room, and slept -a troublous sleep. He had a strange dream, which afterwards became -significant. He thought that old Judith came to him and said-- - -"Boy, go back to Wallingford; '_Brian_,' not 'Wulfnoth,' is the name of -thy father." - -The sands of old Sexwulf's life were running fast. The last rites of the -Church were administered to him by the parish priest of Aston Upthorpe -on the day following Osric's arrival. He made no further attempt to -enter into the subject of the last interview with his grandson. From -time to time he pressed the youth's hands, as if to show that he trusted -him now, and that all the past was forgiven; from time to time he looked -upon him with eyes in which revived affection beamed. He never seemed -able to rest unless Osric was in the room. - -Wearied out, Osric threw himself down upon his couch that night for -brief repose, but in the still hours of early dawn Judith awoke him. - -"Get up--he is passing away." - -Osric threw on a garment and entered the chamber. His grandfather was -almost gone; he collected his dying strength for a last blessing, -murmured with dying lips, upon his beloved boy. Then while they knelt -and said the commendatory prayer, he passed away to rejoin those whom he -had loved and lost--the wife of his youth, the children of his early -manhood--passing from scenes of violence and wrong to the land of peace -and love, where all the mysteries of earth are solved. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[24] "The last trace of a dungeon answering the above description, with -huge iron rings fixed in the walls, disappeared about sixty or seventy -years ago."--_History of Wallingford_ (Hedges). - -[25] It was a remark of this kind which turned Robert Bruce when -fighting against his own people. "See," said an Englishman, as he saw -Bruce eating with unwashed and reddened hands, "that Scotchman eating -his own blood!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE OUTLAWS - - -Sad and weary were the hours to Osric which intervened between the death -and burial of his grandfather. He gazed upon the dear face, where yet -the parting look of love seemed to linger. The sense of desolation -overwhelmed him--his earthly prospects were shattered, his dreams of -ambition ended; but the dead spake not to console him, and the very -heavens seemed as brass; his only consolation that he felt his lapse had -been forgiven, that the departed one had died loving and blessing him. - -The only true consolation in such hour of distress is that afforded by -religion, but poor Osric could feel little of this; he had strayed so -far from the gentle precepts which had guarded his boyhood: if he -believed in religion, it was as when Satan looked into the gates of -Paradise from afar. It was not his. He seemed to have renounced his -portion and lot in it, to have sold himself to Satan, in the person of -Brian Fitz-Count. - -Yet, he could not even now _hate_ the Baron, as he ought to have done, -according to all regulations laid down for such cases, made and -provided, ever since men began to write novels. Let the reader enter -into his case impartially. He had never known either paternal or -maternal love--the mother, who had perished, was not even a memory; -while, on the other hand, the destroyer had adopted him as a son, and -been as a father to him, distinguishing him from others by an affection -all the more remarkable as coming from a rugged nature, unused to tender -emotions. Again, the horror with which we moderns contemplate such a -scene as his dead grandfather had described, was far less vivid in one -to whom such casualties had been of constant experience, and were -regarded as the usual incidents of warfare. Our readers can easily -imagine the way in which he would have regarded it before he had fallen -under the training of Wallingford Castle. - -But it was his own mother, and Brian was her murderer. Ah, if he had but -once known the gentle endearment of a fond mother's love, how different -would have been his feelings! There would have been no need then to -enforce upon him the duty of forsaking the life but yesterday opening so -brightly to his eyes, and throwing himself a waif and a stray upon the -world of strife. - -He walked to and fro in the woods, and thought sometimes of all he was -leaving. Sometimes of the terrible fate of her who had borne him. At -another moment he felt half inclined to conceal all, and go back to -Wallingford, as if nothing had happened; the next he felt he could never -again grasp the hand of the destroyer of his kindred. - -The hour came for the funeral. The corpse was brought forth on the bier -from the hut which had so long sheltered it in life. They used no -coffins in those days--it was simply wrapped in the "winding-sheet." He -turned back the linen, and gazed upon the still calm face for the last -time ere the bearers departed with their burden. Then he burst into a -passion of tears, which greatly relieved him: it is they who cannot -weep, who suffer most. His grandfather had been father, mother, and all -to him, until a very recent period: and the sweet remembrances and -associations of boyhood returned for a while. - -The solemn burial service of our forefathers was unlike our own--perhaps -not so soothing to the mourners, for whom our service seems made; but it -bore more immediate reference to the departed: the service was for -_them_. The prayers of the Church followed them, as in all ancient -liturgies, into that world beyond the grave, as still members of -Christ's mystical body, one with us in the "Communion of Saints." - -The procession was in those days commonly formed at the house of the -deceased, but as Sexwulf's earthly home was far from the Church, the -body was met at the lych gate, as in modern times. First went the -cross-bearer, then the mourners, then the priest preceding the bier, -around which lighted torches were borne. - -Psalms were now solemnly chanted, particularly the _De Profundis_ and -the _Miserere_, and at the close of each the refrain-- - - - "Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord, - And let perpetual light shine upon him." - - -Then followed the solemn requiem Mass, wherein the great Sacrifice, once -offered on Calvary, was pleaded for the deceased. When the last prayer -had been said, the corpse was sprinkled with hallowed water, and -perfumed with sweet incense, after which it was removed to its last -resting place. The grave was also sprinkled with the hallowed water, -emblematical of the cleansing power of the "Blood of Sprinkling"; and -the body of the ancient thane was committed to the earth, sown in -corruption, to be raised in joy unspeakable, and full of glory. - -Around the grave were but few mourners. Famine, pestilence, and war had -removed from time to time those who had known the old thane in his -poverty (for thane he was by birth), but there stood two or three of a -different stamp from the care-worn peasants--men clad in jerkins of -leather, tall, rugged, resolute-looking fellows. One of these watched -Osric closely, and when the last rites were over and the grave-digger -commenced his final labour of filling up the grave, he followed the -funeral party on their homeward road, as they returned to the desolate -home. At last he approached Osric. - -"I believe you are Osric, grandson of the true Englishman we have now -laid in the earth?" - -"I am that unhappy man." - -"Thou art the son of a line of patriots. Thy father died fighting -against the oppressor, and thou art the sole representative of his -family. Canst thou remain longer in the halls of the tyrant?" - -"Who art thou?" - -"A true Englishman." - -"Thorold is thy name, is it not?" - -"How didst thou know me?" - -"Because my grandfather before he died revealed all to me." - -"Then thou wilt cast in thy lot with us?" - -"I think not. My father yet lives; you are mistaken in thinking him -dead. He is a monk in Dorchester Abbey." - -"He is dead at least to the world; Brian's lance and spear slew him, so -far as that is concerned." - -"But I go to ask his advice. I would fain leave this unhappy land and -join the Crusaders." - -"And renounce the hope of vengeance upon the slayer of thy kindred?" - -"I have eaten of his bread and salt." - -"And thou knowest all the secrets of his prison-house. Tell us, hast -thou heard of one Herwald, a follower of thy father?" - -"I may not tell thee;" and Osric shuddered. - -"The Normans have spoilt thee then, in _deed_ and in _truth_. Wilt thou -not even tell us whether Herwald yet lives?" - -"I may not for the present; if my father bid me tell thee, thou shalt -know. Leave me for the present; I have just buried my grandfather; let -me rest for the day at least." - -The outlaw, for such he was, ceased to importune him at this plaintive -cry; then like a man who takes a sudden resolution, stepped aside, and -Osric passed on. When he reached home he half expected to find a -messenger from Wallingford chiding his delay; then he sat a brief while -as one who hardly knows what to do, while old Judith brought him a -savoury stew, and bade him eat. Several times she looked at him, like -one who is burning to tell a secret, then pursed up her lips, as if she -were striving to repress a strong inclination to speak. - -At length Osric rose up. - -"Judith," he said, "I may stay here no longer." - -"Thou art going to Dorchester?" - -"I am." - -"What shall I say when the Lord of Wallingford sends for thee?" - -"That I am gone to Dorchester." - -"Will that satisfy them?" - -"I know not. It must." - -"I could tell thee all that thou wilt learn at Dorchester." - -"Do so. It may save me the journey." - -"I may not. I swore on the Gospels I would not tell the secret to -thy"--she paused--"to Wulfnoth." - -"What! another secret?" - -"Yes; and one thou dost not, canst not, suspect; but, I think, didst -thou know it, thou wouldst at once return to Wallingford Castle." - -"Tell me--tell me all." - -"Wouldst have me forsworn? No; seek thy _father_." She emphasised the -word, and then added, "Ask him to let me tell thee the whole truth, if -he will not do so himself; then return and learn more than thy dead -grandfather has told thee, or could have told thee, for he knew not the -truth." - -"Judith, I will seek my father, and return at once after I have seen -him." - -"But the roads are dangerous; beware!" - -Osric rose; put on his tunic over a coat of light chain mail; girded his -sword to his side; put on a leathern cap, padded inside with steel, for -in those days prudent men never travelled unarmed; then he bade Judith -farewell, and started for Dorchester, making for the Synodune Hills, -beyond which well-known landmarks Dorchester lay, and beneath the hills -was a ford across the Thames. - -He had not gone far--not half a mile--when he heard a rustling of the -branches beyond the brook, and a stern voice cried-- - -"Stand." - -"Who art thou?" he cried. - -"Good men and true, and thou art our prisoner." - -"If so, come and take me." - -"Wilt thou yield thyself unharmed, on the pledge that no harm is -intended thee?" - -"I will not. I know thee, Thorold: I seek Dorchester and my father." - -"Thou wilt hardly reach it or him to-day. Stand, I say, or we must take -thee by force." - -"No man shall make me go with him against my will," cried Osric, and -drew his sword. - -Thorold laughed and clapped his hands. Quick as thought five or six men -dashed from the covers which had hidden them in all directions. Osric -drew his sword, but before he could wield it against a foe who met him -face to face, another mastered his arms from behind, and he was a -prisoner. - -"Do him no harm; he is his father's son. We only constrain him for his -good. Bring him along." - -They led, or rather bore, him through the woods for a long distance, -until they came to a tangled swamp, situated amidst bog and quagmire, -wherein any other men save those acquainted with the path might easily -have sunk up to the neck, or even lost their lives; but in the centre -was a spot of firm ground, and there, beneath the shade of a large tree, -was a fire, before which roasted a haunch of venison, and to the right -and left were sleeping hutches, of the most primitive construction. - -"Canst thou eat?" - -"I will not eat with thee." - -"Thy father's son should not disdain thy father's friend. Listen; if we -have made thee a prisoner, it is to save thee from thyself. The son of a -true Englishman should not shed the blood of his countrymen, nor herd -with his oppressors. Has not thy grandfather taught thee as much?" - -"He has indeed; and no longer will I do so, I promise thee." - -"Then wilt thou go a little farther, and help us to deliver thy -country?" - -"Can it be delivered? What can _you_ do?" - -"Alas! little; but we do our best and wait better times. Look, my lad, -when things are at their worst the tide turns: the darkest hour is just -before the dawn. Think of this happy land--happy once--now the sport of -robbers and thieves! Think of the hideous dungeons where true Englishmen -rot! Think of the multitudes of innocent folk burnt, racked, tortured, -starved, driven to herd with the beasts! Think of the horrors of famine! -Think of the unburied dead--slain foully, and breeding a pestilence, -which oft destroys their murderers! Think, in short, of Wallingford -Castle and its lord----" - -A deep murmur of assent from the recumbent outlaws stretched on the turf -around. - -Osric's features twitched; he felt the force of the appeal. - -"What do you want of me?" - -"Our leader is a miserable captive in the devil's hold you have quitted, -and of which you know the secrets." - -"What can I do? They were told me in confidence. Can I break my honour?" - -"Confidence! honour! If you had promised the Devil's dam to sell your -soul, would you feel bound to do so?" - -"In short," said another, "we _will_ have the secret." - -"Nay, Grimbald, patience; he will come right in time. Force is no good -with such as he. He must do what is right, because it _is_ right; and -when he sees it, he will join us heart and soul, or he is not the son of -Wulfnoth." - -"He has shown little paternal care for me; yet when you seized me I was -about to seek his direction. Why not let me go, and let him decide for -me?" - -"A truce to folly. We know what Wulfnoth of old would have said, when -he was our leader. He gave himself heart and soul to the cause--to -avenge thy slaughtered kinsfolk. And now that one whom he trusted and -loved well is a prisoner in that hell which you have left, can we think -that he would hesitate about your duty? Why then waste time in -consulting him? I appeal to your conscience. Where is Herwald?" - -Osric was silent. - -"By the memory of thy grandfather." - -Still silence. - -"Of thy murdered mother, expiring in the flames which consumed thy -brothers and sisters." - -Osric gave a loud cry. - -"No more," he said, "no more; I will tell thee: Herwald lives." - -"Where?" - -"In the lowest dungeon of Wallingford Castle." - -"Hast thou seen him?" - -"Yes." - -"Does he suffer torture?" - -"Terribly." - -"Of what nature?" - -"I hardly dare to tell thee." - -"The sachentage?" - -"As bad as that; the crucet-chest--the----" - -"Stay--wilt thou help us to deliver him?" - -"Save my honour." - -"Honour! honour! honour!" and they laughed the word to scorn, till the -woods caught the echoes, and seemed to repeat it, "Honour! honour!" - -"Get that delusion out of thy mind. To fight for one's country, nay, to -die for it, that is true honour; to deliver the outcast and poor, to -save them from the hands of the ungodly,--it is for this we have brought -thee here. Let me tell thee what I have seen, nay, thou hast seen as -much, and of the woes of thy bleeding country, bleeding at every pore. -If the memory of thy mother stir thee not up, then thou art NIDDERING." - -At the sound of this word--this term of utter reproach to an English -ear, worse than "coward" a thousand times, suggesting a depth of -baseness beyond conception--Osric started. - -"And deservest to die," said the outlaw who had just spoken. - -Osric's pride took alarm at once; his downcast look changed. - -"Slay me, then," he said; "the sooner the better." - -"Nay, brother, that is not the way--thou wilt spoil it all; we would win -him by _conviction_, not by threats." - -"Let me have an hour to think." - -"Take some food." - -"No." - -They left him alone, but he knew he was watched, and could not escape, -nor did he wish to; he was yielding to his destiny. - -One hour of such mental anguish--the boast of chivalry, the pomp of -power, the false glamour, all giving way to the _conviction_ that the -Englishmen were _right_, and their cause that of truth and justice, nay, -of God! - -At the end of the hour he rose to his feet and looked around. The men -were seated at their repast. He approached them. - -"Give me of your food." - -They did so. Thorold's eyes sparkled with delight; he saw what it meant. - -They waited for him to speak; but he satisfied hunger first, then he -drank, and afterwards said calmly-- - -"Is there any oath of admission to your band?" - -"Only to swear to be true to England and Englishmen till death, and to -wage war against their oppressors, of whatsoever degree, with all your -powers. So help you God." - -Osric repeated the oath solemnly and distinctly. - -The outlaws shouted with joy. - -"And now," he said, "let us talk of Herwald, and I will do all I can to -help you to deliver him; but it will be a difficult task. I must take -time to consider it." - - ---- - -Meanwhile old Judith sat at home in the lonely hut, as she had done on -the occasion recorded in the fourth chapter of our tale. Again she sat -by the fire which smoked on the hearth, again she sang quaint snatches -of old songs. - -"It is a wise son which knows his own sire," she said, and going to a -corner of the hut, opened once more her poor old rickety chest, from -which she took the packet of musty parchment, containing a ring with a -seal, a few articles of infant attire, a little red shoe, a small frock, -and a lock of maiden's hair. - -"Poor Ethra," she said, "how strange thy fate!" and she kissed the lock -of hair again and again. "And now thy boy may inherit his father's -honours and titles unchecked, for his supposed grandfather is here no -longer to claim him, and his half-brothers are lepers. Wulfnoth never -loved him--never. Why, then, should he not give him up to his true -father? Vengeance! to be sure, he should not desire this now. A monk, -fie! fie! Wulfnoth might seek it; Father Alphege cannot, may not. He -will tell Osric the whole truth, or refer him to me; and he may go back -with a clear conscience to Wallingford; and I shall have the proofs -ready, which the Lord of Wallingford would give all he has to possess. -Here they are, stripped from the dead attendants or found on the -helpless babe." - -Just then she heard steps approaching; she jealously hid her treasures. - -A page dismounted from his horse at the door of the hut. - -"Is the squire Osric within?" - -"Enter." - -A youth of fourteen summers, just what Osric had been when he _began_, -entered the door, and looked curiously around. "What! was _this_ Osric's -home--Osric, the Baron's favourite?" - -"He has gone to Dorchester Abbey." - -"Dorchester Abbey! he was to have returned last night to Wallingford." - -"He stayed for the funeral." - -The boy looked amazed. What was an old man's funeral compared with -Brian's orders? - -"And his grandfather, dying, bade him go to Dorchester, whence he will -speedily return, and bring, yes, bring with him that shall make full -atonement for his offence, if offence it be." - -"It had need be something very valuable then. It might cost some of us -our heads, did we do the like." - -"They will not hurt a hair of his, I am sure. You shall have him with -you soon. Ah, yes! very soon." - -The boy shook his head, looked once more curiously at the old woman and -the hut, and departed, muttering-- - -"I should be sorry to stand in Osric's shoes; but then he is a -favourite;" and young Louis of Trouville, page to Brian for the good of -his education, rode down the brook. - -"After all, he is no gentleman. Why did my lord choose a page from -amongst the peasants?" - - ---- - -Many had asked that question before. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE PESTILENCE (AT BYFIELD) - - -The time had passed away slowly at the lazar-house at Byfield. Life was -tedious there to most people, least of all to the good Chaplain, Father -Ambrose; for he loved his poor lepers with a love which could only come -direct from Him Who loved us all. He did not feel time lag. Each day had -its appointed duties: in holy offices of prayer and praise, or in his -labour of love, the days sped on. He felt the strain, it is true, but he -bore it. He looked for no holiday here; it could never come. He was -cloistered and confined by that general belief in the contagion of -leprosy, which was so strong in the world that many would have slain a -leper had they met him outside the defined boundaries, or set their -mastiffs to tear him in pieces. - -One day Father Ambrose was seated in his cell after Terce, when one of -the attendants came to him with a serious and anxious face. - -"I should be glad for you to come and see Gaspard; he has been very ill -all night, and there are some strange symptoms about him." - -The Chaplain rose, and followed the "keeper" into the chamber above, -where in a small "cubicle," separated by a screen from the other -couches, the sick man tossed. - -"He is delirious; how long has he been so?" - -"Nearly all the night." - -"And in a raging fever?--but this blackness; I never saw one so dark -before." - -It was, alas, too true. The body was fast assuming a strange dark, yet -livid, hue, as if the blood were ink instead of red blood. - -"Lift up the left arm," said the Chaplain. - -Near the armpits were two or three swellings about the size of a -pigeon's egg. The Chaplain saw them and grew serious. - -"It is the black fever--the plague!" almost screamed the horrified -attendant. - -"Keep cool, brother John; nothing is gained by excitement, and all is -lost by fear; put your trust in God." - -"But I have _touched_ him--drawn in his infected breath--I am a dead -man." - -The Chaplain heeded him not. - -"Brother, canst thou speak?" he said to the sick man. - -A moan was the only reply. - -"Brother, dost thou know that thou art dying?" - -A moan again. - -"And that the best of us have not lived as we should?" - -Another sigh, so dolorous. - -"And dost thou believe that God's dear Son died for thee?" - -A faint gesture of assent. - -"Say thou, brother, 'I put the pitiful Passion of Thy dear Son between -me and my sins.'"[26] - -"I do, oh God. Sweet Jesus, save me." - -And then he relapsed into an unconscious state, in which he continued -till he died. - -"We must bury him directly, brother John." - -The attendant shuddered. - -"Yes, we two; we have been in danger, no one else need come. You go and -tell the grave-digger to have the grave ready directly, and the moment -it is ready we two will bury him." - -"Oh God! I am a dead man," said poor brother John. - -"Nay, we cannot die till our time come, and if so, the way HE chooses -is best. We all owe HIM a death, you know. Fear is the worst thing you -can entertain now; it brings on the very thing you dread. Overcome -_that_, at all events, if you can." - -And the poor frightened fellow went out to do as he was bidden. - -Then the brave and good man composed the corpse; placed a crucifix on -its breast; drew the bed-clothes round it to serve as a winding-sheet, -for they must be buried or burned; said the commendatory prayers; and -walked for a time in the fresh air. - -He knew his own danger, but he heeded it not. All things, he was -persuaded, worked together for good to them that loved God; besides, -what had he to live for?--his poor sheep--the lepers? Yes; but God could -raise up a better man than he, so in his humility he thought; and if he -were--called home---- - -Did not the thought of that Purgatory, which was in the Creed of his -time, come between him and the notion of rest? - -Not at all; he was content to leave all that; if his Father thought he -needed such correction, he was willing to pass through it; and like a -dear son to kiss the rod, as he had done on earth, safe in the hands of -his Father. - -Neither did his thoughts turn much to the Saints. Of course he believed, -as every one did then, that it was right to invoke them--and he had done -so that day in the prescribed commendatory prayers for the dying; but, -as stars fade away in the presence of the sun, so did all these things -fade away before his love for the central sun of his soul--his crucified -Lord. - -The hours passed away in rapt emotion; he never felt so happy as that -afternoon. - -Then came the grave-digger. - -"The grave is ready." - -"Tell brother John to come and help." - -"I do not think he is able; he seems unwell himself." - -"Then you and I must do it." - -"Willingly--where you lead I follow." - -"Come up the stairs." - -They went to the dormitory; took the sad burden, wrapped in the -bed-clothing as it was, and bore it to the grave; the priest said the -burial office; the grave-digger filled up the grave; and all was over -with poor Gaspard. - -But before that sun set the Chaplain was called to brother John, and -that same night the poor fellow died of the fever--fear, doubtless, -having been a predisposing cause. - -The terror began; the facts could not long be concealed. At Evensong -that night the Chaplain spoke to them in a short address, so full of -vivid faith and Christian hope that those who heard it never forgot -it.--"Why should they fear death? They had led a living death, a dying -life, these many years. Their exile was over. The Father called them -home. They had long done with this wretched world. The Christian's true -fatherland was Heaven." - -So he spoke rather like an Angel than a man. But they could not all rise -to it--how could it be expected? life clings to life. When Newgate was -on fire in the great riots, the most anxious to be saved were some -condemned criminals left for execution on the morrow. - -But for a select few, all fear was gone. - -Such men were needed: they had their senses about them; they could help -others to the last; they, and they alone, dared to attend the dying, to -bury the dead. - -Now came the great trial--the confinement. The lepers mutinied against -being shut up with death, they longed for liberty, they panted for it; -they would not be imprisoned with the plague. - -Then began positive fighting. The poor patients had to be restrained by -main force, until the Chaplain came, and by his great power over their -minds, persuaded them to stay. - -Every one was asking, "How came it amongst us?" and the mystery was -explained when they were told of a bale of cloth for their tailor -consigned to the house from the _Levant, viâ_ Bristol, and which in all -the long tedious voyage had retained the infection ever living in the -East. - -Day by day fresh victims were carried to the grave. The plague was -probably simply a malignant form of typhus, nourished in some human -hotbed to the highest perfection. The _bacillus_ or germ is, we trust, -extinct, but otherwise enough might be bred in a bottle to poison a -county, as we have heard stated. - -All at once the heaviest blow fell upon them. - -Father Ambrose was walking in the grounds, taking rest of mind after -intense mental and bodily exertion, when he felt a sudden throb of -violent heat, followed by an intense chill and a sickening sensation -accompanied by faintness. He took off his cassock--he saw the fatal -swelling. - -"My summons is come," he said. "Oh, my Father, I thank Thee for calling -me home; but these poor sheep whom Thou hast committed to my care, what -shall they do?" - -Then he walked quietly to his cell and lay down on his bed. He had -watched the disease in others; he entertained no hope of recovery. "In a -few hours I shall see Him face to face Whom I have loved," said he. - -They came and found him. Never was man more patient; but that mediæval -idea of intense self-denial was with him to the last. He refused water: -they thought him delirious. - -"HE would not drink," he said. - -They saw his thoughts were on the Cross, and that he was treading the -pathway opened by the Crucified One, and they said no more. - -He had received the Holy Communion that morning--his last Communion; the -usual rites could not be attempted now. Before he relapsed into the last -stage, they heard the words in his native tongue-- - - - "Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! ouvrez moi." - - -They were his last. The door was open and he had entered. Ah, who shall -follow even in imagination, and trace his progress to the gates of day? - - - "Go wing thy flight from star to star, - From world to luminous world, as far - As the universe spreads its flaming hall: - Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, - And multiply each through endless years, - One moment of Heaven is worth them all." - - -But those left behind in the lazar-house--ah me! deprived of the only -man who had gained an empire over their hearts, and could control -them--what of them? - -They lost _all_ control, and broke through all discipline; they -overpowered their keepers, who indeed scarcely tried their best to -restrain them, sharing the common fear; they broke the gates open; they -poured forth and dispersed all through the country, carrying the -infection wherever they went. - -Still this was not a very wide scope; the woods, the forests, were their -chief refuge. And soon the story was told everywhere. It was heard at -the lordly towers of Warwick; it was told at the stately pile of -Kenilworth; it was proclaimed at Banbury. It startled even those violent -men who played with death, to be told that a hundred lepers were loose, -carrying the double curse of plague and leprosy wherever they went. - -"It must be stamped out," said the stern men of the day: "we must hunt -them down and slay them." - -So they held a council at Banbury, where all the neighbouring -barons--who were generally of one party in that neighbourhood--took -counsel. - -They decided that proclamation should be everywhere made; that if the -lepers returned to the lazar-house at Byfield within three days, all -should be forgiven; but otherwise, that the barons should collect their -savage hounds, and hunt them down in the forest. - -And this was the very forest where we left poor Evroult dying--the -forest of the hermitage which these poor lepers were tolerably sure to -find out, and to seek shelter. - -And here we will leave our poor friends for a while, and return to -Wallingford Castle. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[26] This is an extant form of those ages for the reconciliation of a -penitent at the last gasp. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE OPENING OF THE PRISON HOUSE - - -Great was the surprise and anger of Brian Fitz-Count that his favourite -page should dare to tarry, even to bury his grandfather, much less to -fulfil an idle vow, when he had bidden him return at once. - -He cared so little for sacred things, whether the true gold of the mint, -or the false superstitions of the age, that he could not understand how -they should influence other men. - -Yet he knew they did exercise a strong power over both the imagination -and the will, and sometimes had acknowledged that the world must have a -religion, and this was as good as any other. - -"Let Osric believe as much or as little as he likes," he said, "only he -must remember that Brian Fitz-Count is the deity to be worshipped in -Wallingford Castle, and that he allows no other worship to interfere -with that due to him." - -The next morning Osric reappeared, and at once sought the presence of -his lord. - -"Thou art more than a day behind?" - -"I tarried to bury my grandfather, and to execute a vow in his behalf." - -"That is well; but remember, Osric, I permit none here to disobey my -orders, either for the sake of the living or the dead. He _is_ dead, -then?" - -"He died the night I arrived." - -"May he rest in peace," said Brian carelessly, feeling glad in his -heart that the old man was gone, and that there was no one left to -dispute his dominion over the heart of Osric. - -"But for my grandfather's vow I had returned last night after the -funeral. I have discharged my debt to him, and beg pardon for my delay. -I now belong to you." - -It was strange, however, the wooden tone in which he spoke, like a -schoolboy reciting a lesson. - -"And thou shalt find in me a father, if thou always continuest to -deserve it--as by obedience thou hast hitherto done--save this lapse, in -place of him whom thou hast lost." - -"Am I to go to Shirburne?" - -"I have sent Malebouche. There are certain matters of business to talk -over. I want thee to turn scribe for the rest of the day, and write -letters for me. It is a thing I could never accomplish. All I can do is -to sign my name, or better still, affix my seal. My pen has been the -sword, my book the country around; wherein I write my black characters, -as men say." - -Yes, he did indeed, and the fame remains till this day. - -So all the rest of the day Osric wrote at his lord's dictation. There -was some especial correspondence with the leaders of the party, and that -night messengers were speeding north, south, east, and west with the -missives Osric had penned. - -Late in the day, while Osric was walking on the ramparts, a page came -after him and bade him hasten to the bower of the Lady Maude. The manner -was urgent, and he went at once. - -He found the lady in tears, surrounded by her handmaidens, who were -standing on each side of her "curule" chair, endeavouring in vain to -console her. - -The Baron was striding up and down the spacious room, which, as we have -said, overlooked the river. - -"Read this, Osric," he said, and put a letter into his hands. "I can but -half understand it." - -Osric read. The letter came from the governor of the lazar-house, and -contained a succinct account of the terrible visitation we have recorded -in our last chapter. - -"But our boys are at the hermitage, dame," said Brian; "they are safe; -you need not weep." - -Osric read on--how that the lepers had broken loose and taken to the -woods. Then came the significant close: "So the neighbouring barons and -knights of all degrees are gathering together their dogs, to hunt them -in the woods; and I greatly fear lest harm happen to thy sons, who have -been, with thy permission, left to the care of the hermit Meinhold, -dwelling within the same forest." - -It was a terrible thought to the poor mother: the affliction of her boys -was the great burden of her life. Yet the customs of the age had -required the sacrifice of her. She had been forbidden, perhaps it was -kind, to visit them, lest the sight of their state should but increase -her woe; but they were never long out of her thoughts. - -"Husband! father! thou must go and protect them, or I will go myself." - -"Enough, Maude, enough; I will start at once with a troop of a hundred -men, and whatever they do in the rest of the forest, methinks I shall -enforce respect for the hermit's cave--where we are told they are so -happy. Osric, send Osborne to me for orders at once." - -"Am I to go, my lord?" - -"No; you must remain here, I have special reasons. You will be in -attendance on the Lady Maude." - -Osric's eyes glistened. - -"You will see that certain orders I shall leave are carried out, in -reference to the business in which you are employed. If any question -your right to command, and refuse obedience, show them this ring. You -see how I trust you, my son." - -"Would he were our son," sobbed the Lady Maude; "but I have none to -comfort me; my poor boys, torn from me--torn from me. Hasten, my lord; -it is far to Byfield--very far; you may not be in time." - -"I will bring thee the hands and feet of any who have dared to harm -them." - - ---- - -That same hour the Baron departed with his troop, and Osric was busy for -a while in executing his commission. He occupied his own little chamber -in the keep; it was at a great height above the hill on which the lofty -tower was raised, and the view of the country was most extensive. - -When nightfall came, Osric was here alone, and he did a very singular -thing. - -He lit a lamp, and placed it in his window; then he took it away in a -very undecided fashion; then he replaced it again; then he took it away, -and finally replaced it. - -"The die is cast," he said. - -Two roads lay before him,--it was an awful crisis in his life,--two -roads, utterly different, which could only lead to most opposite issues, -and the strife was _which_ to choose. The way was yet open. - -But to enter either he must break his faith. Here lay the sting to his -generous heart. - -The one road led to honour, to riches, to power, to glory even; and had -all which could delight a young warrior's mind, but coupled with the -support of foul tyranny, the uprooting of the memory of his kindred and -their woes, and the breaking of his newly-pledged faith to the outlaws. - -The other road led to a life of obscurity and poverty, perhaps to a -death of ignominy, and certainly began with an act of treachery towards -one who, however cruel to others, had loved and trusted him, of which -the ring he bore was a token and a pledge. - -It was when he thought of this that he withdrew the light. - -Then came the remembrance of the sufferers in the foul dens below. - -"It is the cause of God, and truth, and freedom, and justice, and all -that is holy;" and he replaced the light. - -Then he knelt; he could pray now-- - -"Oh God, direct me--help me--show some token of Thine approval this -night. Even now I believe in Thee as my grandfather did. Oh save me, and -help Thy poor oppressed ones this night; deliver them from darkness and -the shadow of death, and break their bonds asunder." - -Then he went to attend at the supper of the Lady Maude, where he was -received with marked attention. He had of course been trained in all the -etiquette exacted from pages and squires, and was expected to make -himself agreeable in a hundred ways, to carve the joints with elegance, -and to wait upon the ladies. - -This part of his duty he had often delighted to execute, but to-night he -was "distrait." The poor lady was in so much grief herself at the danger -of her sons, whom she had not seen for five years, that she did not -notice his abstraction, as she otherwise certainly would have done. - -Then it fell ordinarily to the province of the squires and pages to -amuse the party,--to sing songs, recite romaunts, play the troubadour, -or to join in such games as chess and draughts, lately imported from the -East, with the fair ladies of the little court,--when they dined, or -rather supped, in private as now. But no songs were sung this night--no -tales of valour or chivalry recited; and the party broke up early. -Compline was said by the chaplain who was present, for in the bower of -so great a lady there must be respect for forms; and then the fair ones -went to bed. - -Osric was now at liberty. - -"Art thou for a composing draught to-night, my squire?" said the -chaplain. "I can compound a fair night-cap for an aching head, if thou -wilt come to my cell." - -"Nay, my calls are urgent now; I have been detained too long by my -duties as a squire of dames. I have orders for our worthy gaoler Tustain -and his sons." - -"Not to put any prisoners on the rack to-night? it is late for that; let -the poor things rest till to-morrow." - -"It is not to that effect that my orders run." - -"They say you did not like that kind of thing at first." - -"Neither do I now, but I have perforce got used to it." - -"_Bon soir_;" and the chaplain sauntered off to drink mulled sack. It -was a shocking thing that the Church, in his person, should set her seal -of approbation on such tyranny as that of a Norman hold in Stephen's -days. - -Osric descended to the foot of the tower, crossed the greensward, and -entered the new dungeons of Brian's Close. On the ground-floor were the -apartments of Tustain the gaoler, extending over the whole basement of -the tower and full of the hateful implements of his office. - -There were manacles, gyves, and fetters. There were racks and -thumbscrews, scourges, pincers, and other instruments of mediæval -cruelty. There were arms of various kinds--swords, axes, lances, bows -and arrows, armour for all parts of the body, siege implements, and the -like. There were lanterns and torches for the service of the dungeons. -There were rows of iron basons, plates, and cups for the food of the -prisoners. Lastly, there were many huge keys. - -In the midst of all this medley stood a solid oak table, and thereat sat -Tustain the gaoler-in-chief--now advanced in years and somewhat impotent -on his feet, but with a heart as hard as the nether millstone--with his -three sons, all gaolers, like himself, eating their supper. A fairly -spread table was before them--very different from the fare they supplied -to their prisoners, you may be sure. - -"We have locked up for the night, and are taking our ease, Master -Osric." - -"I grieve to disturb thy ease, but my lord has sent me to thee, -Tustain." - -"He must be some leagues away at this moment." - -"But he has left orders by me; see his ring." - -Tustain recognised the token in a moment, and bowed before it. - -"Wilt not take some food? Here is a noble haunch of venison, there some -good trout, there some wood-pigeons in a pie--fish, flesh, and fowl." - -"Nay, I have just supped with our lady." - -"Thou art fortunate. I remember when thou wert brought in here with thy -grandfather as a prisoner, and saw the torture-chamber for the first -time." - -"More startling changes have happened, and may yet; but my business--Art -tired, my men?" - -"We have had little to do to-day--no raid, no convoy of goods to pursue, -no fighting, no hunting; it has been dull." - -"But there is work afoot _now_, and stern work. You, Richard, must take -horse and bear this letter to Shirburne, where you must give it to -Malebouche, and wait his orders; you, Tristam, must carry this to -Faringdon Castle, and bring back a reply; you, Aubrey, to the Castle of -the Black Lady of Speen." - -They looked astonished--as well they might--to be sent out for rides, of -some fifteen miles each, at that hour. - -But the ring--like the genii who were the slaves of the Lamp, so were -they slaves of the Ring. - -"And who will help me with the prisoners?" said Tustain. - -"You are permitted to call in such of the men-at-arms as you please." - -"Why did he not send men-at-arms? You are sure he said my sons were to -go? Why, if we were suddenly called to put any of my lambs to the -torture, these men-at-arms would hardly know how to do it." - -"You could direct them," said Osric. Then to the sons, "Now, my men, -haste speed." - -In half an hour they were gone. - -"A cup of sack for consolation--the best wine from our lord's own -cellar. I have brought thee a flask." - -"Wilt thou stay and help me discuss it?" - -"For a few minutes only; I have much yet to do." - -Osric produced the flask from the gypsire which hung from the belt of -his tunic. - -Then the old man took down two goblets, and Osric poured the wine. - -The old man drank freely; Osric but sparingly. Soon the former began to -talk incoherently, and at last he cried-- - -"What wine was that? Why, it was Old Nick's own brewing. I can't keep my -eyes open." - -Half suspecting something amiss, the old man rose, as if going to the -door; but Osric threw his arms around him, and as he did so the old man -gave way to the influence of the powerful narcotic which the youth had -mingled with his drink, and fell like a log on the couch to which Osric -had dragged him. - -"I hope I have not killed him; but if I have it is only half his -deserts. Now for my perilous task. How this ring has helped me!" - -He went first and strongly barred the outer door, then traversed the -upper corridor till he came to a room in the new buildings, which was a -private den of the Baron. It was panelled with oak, and pressing a knob -on the panel, a secret door opened, disclosing a flight of steps. These -went down into the bowels of the earth; then a narrow passage opened at -right angles to the corridor above, which Osric traversed. It was damp -and slimy, and the air had a deathly odour; but it soon came to an end, -and Osric ascended a similar flight of steps to the one by which he had -descended; again he drew out the key and opened an iron door at the -summit. He stood upon a terrace at the edge of the river, and just upon -a level with the water. - -The night was dark and stormy--not a star could be seen. The stream -rippled by as Osric stood and listened. The clock struck twelve, or -rather the man on duty with an iron hammer struck the bell in the tower -of St. Peter's Church twelve times with his hammer to tell the midnight -hour. A few minutes of feverish suspense--the night air fanned his -heated brow--when he heard muffled oars close by, heard rather the -splash of the water as it fell from the upraised blades. A large boat -was at hand. - -"Who comes?" said Osric in a low voice. - -"Englishmen, good and true." - -The outlaws stood on the terrace. - -"Follow me," said Osric. - -In a few minutes they were all assembled in the heart of the stronghold -in the gaoler's room, where the gaoler himself lay snoring like a hog. - -"Shall we slay him?" said they, naturally looking on the brute with -abhorrence. - -"No," said Osric; "remember our compact--no bloodshed save in -self-defence. He will sleep till this time to-morrow night, when I fear -Brian will do for him what he has done for thousands." - -"What is that?" - -"Hang him." - -"He deserves it. Let the gaoler and the hangman hang." - -"Amen." - -"Now for the keys," said Thorold. - -Osric knew them all, and taking them, led the liberators down below, -into the gloomy corridor from which the dungeons opened on either side. -The men shuddered as they stood between these dens of cruelty, from -which moans, faint and low, from time to time issued like the sighing of -the plaintive wind. - -One by one they opened these dens, and took the prisoners out. Many were -too weak, from torture and privation, to stand, and had to be supported. -They hardly understood at first what it all meant; but when they knew -their deliverers, were delirious with joy. - -At last they came to the cell where the "crucet-box" was placed, and -there they found Herwald. Osric opened the chest, of which the lid was -only a framework of iron bars. He was alive, and that was all; his hair -was white as snow, his mind almost gone. - -"Are the angels come to take me out of Purgatory?" he said. - -"Herwald, do you not know me?" said Thorold. - -It was vain; they could evoke no memory. - -Then they went to the torture-chamber, where a plaintive, whimpering -cry struck their ears. In the corner stood a boy on tiptoes; a thin cord -attached to a thumbscrew, imprisoning both his poor thumbs, was passed -over a pulley in the ceiling, and then tied to a peg in the wall, so -that the poor lad could only find firm footing at the expense of the -most exquisite pain; and so he had been left for the night, the accursed -iron eating into the flesh of his thumbs all the time. - -"My boy! my boy!" said Thorold, and recognised his own son Ulric, whom -he had only lost that week, and traced to the castle--hence his anxiety -for Osric's immediate aid--and the poor father wept. - -Happily Osric had the key of the thumbscrew, and the lad was soon set -free. - -"Break up all the instruments of torture," said Thorold. - -Axes were at their girdles: they smashed all the hateful paraphernalia. -No sound could possibly be heard above; the depth of the dungeons and -the thickness of the walls gave security. - -"Lock up all the cells, all the outer doors, and bring the keys; we will -throw them into the river." - -It took a long time to get the poor disabled victims through the -passages--many had to be carried all the way; but they were safely -brought to the large boat, and placed on beds of straw or the like; not -one sentinel taking the alarm, owing to the darkness and the storm. - -"Now for Dorchester Abbey," said Osric. "We must take sanctuary, before -daybreak, for all these poor captives, they are incapable of any other -mode of escape." - -"And we will attend as an escort," said the outlaws. "Then for the -forest." - -So Osric atoned for his residence in Wallingford Castle. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE SANCTUARY - - -The heavily-laden boat ascended the stream with its load of rescued -captives, redeemed from their living death in the dungeons of Brian's -stronghold. - -The night continued intensely dark, a drizzling rain fell; but all this -was in favour of the escape. Upon a moonlight night this large boat must -have been seen by the sentinels, and followed. - -There was of course no "lock" at Bensington in those days, consequently -the stream was much swifter than now; and it was soon found that the -load they bore in their barge was beyond the strength of the rowers. But -this was easily remedied: a towing rope was produced, and half a dozen -of Thorold's band drew the bark up stream, while another half-dozen -remained on board, steered or rowed, or attended to the rope at the head -of the boat, as needed. - -Osric was with them: he intended to go to Dorchester and see his father, -and obtain his approbation of the course he was pursuing and direction -for the future. - -All that night the boat glided up stream; their progress was, of -necessity, slow. The groans of the poor sufferers, most of whom had -endured recent torture, broke the silence of the night, otherwise -undisturbed, save by the rippling of the water against the prow of the -boat. - -That night ever remained fixed in the memory of Osric,--the slow ascent -of the stream; the dark banks gliding by; the occasional cry of the men -on the shore, or the man at the prow, as the rope encountered -difficulties in its course; the joy of the rescued, tempered with -apprehension lest they should be pursued and recaptured, for they were, -most of them, quite unable to walk, for every one was more or less -crippled; the splash of the rain; the moan of the wind; the occasional -dash of a fish,--all these details seemed to fix themselves, trifles as -they were, on the retina of the mind. - -Osric meditated much upon his change of life, but he did not now wish to -recall the step he had taken. His better feelings were aroused by the -misery of those dungeons, and by the approbation of his better self, in -the contemplation of the deliverance he had wrought. - -While he thus pondered a soft hand touched his; it was that of the boy, -the son of Thorold, who had been chained to the wall by means of the -thumbscrew locked upon his poor thumbs.[27] - -"Do your thumbs pain you now?" asked Osric. - -"Not so much; but the place where the bar crossed them yet burns--the -pain was maddening." - -"Dip this linen in the stream, and bind it round them; they will soon be -well. Meanwhile you have the satisfaction that your brave endurance has -proved your faithfulness: not many lads had borne as much." - -"I knew it was life or death to my father; how then could I give way to -the accursed Norman?" - -"Pain is sometimes a powerful reasoner. How did they catch you?" - -"I was sent on an errand by my father, and a hunting party saw and -chased me; they questioned me about the outlaws, till they convinced -themselves I was one, and brought me to the castle, where they put on -the thumbscrew, and told me there it should remain till I told them all -the secrets of the band--especially their hiding-places. I moaned with -the pain, but did not utter a word; and they left me, saying I should -soon confess or go mad; then God sent you." - -"Yes, God had sent him." Osric longed no more for the fleshpots of -Egypt. - -Just as the autumnal dawn was breaking they arrived at the junction of -Tame and Isis, and the Synodune Hills rose above them. They ascended the -former stream, and followed its winding course with some difficulty, as -the willows on the bank interfered with the proper management of the -boat, until they came to the abbey-wharf. They landed; entered the -precincts, bearing those who could neither walk nor limp, and supporting -those who limped, to the hospitium. - -They were in sanctuary. - -In the city of refuge, and safe while they remained there. Whatever -people may think of monasteries now, they thanked God for them then. It -is quite true that in those dreadful days even sanctuary was violated -from time to time, but it was not likely to be so in this instance. -Brian Fitz-Count respected the forms and opinions of the Church, -outwardly at least; although he hated them in his inward heart, -especially when they came between him and his prey. - -The good monks of Dorchester were just emerging from the service of -Lauds, and great was their surprise to see the arrival of this multitude -of impotent folk. However, they enacted their customary part of good -Samaritans at once, under the direction of the infirmarer--Father -Alphege himself--who displayed unwonted sympathy and activity when he -learned that they were refugees from Wallingford dungeons; and promised -that all due care should be taken of the poor sufferers. - -There had been one or two Jews amongst the captives, but they had not -entered the precincts, seeking refuge with a rabbi in the town. - -When they had seen their convoy safe, the outlaws returned to their -haunts in the forest, taking Ulric, son of Thorold, with them, but -leaving poor Herwald in the hands of Father Alphege, secure of his -receiving the very best attention. Poor wretch! his sufferings had been -so great and so prolonged in that accursed den, or rather chest, that -his reason was shaken, his hair prematurely gray, his whole gait and -bearing that of a broken-down old man, trembling at the least thing that -could startle him, anon with piteous cries beseeching to be let out, as -if still in his "crucet-box." - -"Thou art out, my poor brother, never to return," said Alphege. "Surely, -my Herwald, thou knowest me! thou hast ridden by my side in war and -slept beside me in peace many and many a time." - -Herwald listened to the tones of his voice as if some chord were struck, -but shook his head. - -"He will be better anon," said the Father; "rest and good food will do -much." - -While thus engaged the great bell rang for the Chapter Mass, which was -always solemnly sung, being the choral Mass of the day; and the brethren -and such guests as were able entered the hallowed pile. Osric was -amongst them. He had not gone with the outlaws; he had done his duty by -them; he now claimed to be at his father's disposal. - -For the first time in a long period he felt all the old associations of -his childhood revive--all the influences of religion, never really -abjured, kindle again. He could hardly attend to the service. He did not -consciously listen to the music or observe the rites, but he felt it all -in his inmost soul; and as he knelt all the blackness of his sinful -participation in deeds of cruelty and murder--for it was little -else--all the baseness of his ingratitude in allowing, nay, nurturing, -unbelief in his soul, in trying, happily very successfully, _not_ to -believe in God, came upon him. - -He had come to consult his natural father, as he thought, and to offer -himself to his direction as an obedient son: he now rather sought the -priest, and reconciliation as a prodigal to his Heavenly Father as the -first step necessary, for in those days penitence always found vent in -such confession. - -But both father and priest were united in Alphege; and after the Chapter -Mass he sought the good infirmarer, and craved of his charity to make -his confession. - -Will it be believed? his father did not know him. It was indeed years -since they had met, and it was perhaps difficult to recognise the child -in this young warrior, now come to man's estate--at least to man's -height and stature. - -Alphege marked the tear-bedewed cheek, the choking voice; he knew the -signs of penitence; he hesitated not for a moment. - -"My son, I am not the _pænitentiarius_ who ordinarily receives strangers -to Confession." - -"But I wish to come to thee. Oh, father, I have fought against it, and -almost did Satan conquer in me: refuse me not." - -"Nay, my son; I cannot refuse thee." - -And they entered the church. - -Father Alphege had composed himself in the usual way for the monotonous -recitation of human sin--all too familiar to his ears--but as he heard -he became agitated in himself. The revelation was clear, none could -doubt it: he recognised the penitent. - -"My son," he said at the close, "thy sin has been great, very great. -Thou hast joined in ill-treating men made in the image of God; thou art -stained with blood; thy sin needs a heavy penance." - -"Name it, let it be ever so heavy." - -"Go thou to the Holy Land, take the Cross, and employ thy talents for -war in the cause of the Lord." - -"I could desire nothing better, father." - -"On that condition I absolve thee;" and the customary formula was -pronounced. - -A hard "condition" indeed! a meet penance! Osric might still gratify his -taste for fighting, without sin. - -They left the church--Osric as happy as he could be. A great weight was -lifted off his mind. It was only in such an age that a youth, loving -war, might still enjoy his propensity as a religious penance. _Similia -similibus curantur_, says the old proverb. - -The two walked in the cloisters. - -"My father--for thou knowest thy son now--I am wholly in thy hands. -Hadst thou bidden me, I had joined the outlaws, and fought for my -country. Now thou must direct me." - -"Were there even a _chance_ of successful resistance, my son, I would -bid thee stay and fight the Lord's battle here; but it is hopeless. What -can such desultory warfare do? No, our true hope lies now in the son of -the Empress--the descendant of our old English kings, for such he is by -his mother's side--Henry Plantagenet. He will bridle these robbers, and -destroy their dens of tyranny." - -"But Brian is fighting on that side." - -"And when the victory is gained, as it will be, it will cut short such -license as the Lord of Wallingford now exercises,--destroy these robber -castles, the main of them, put those that remain under proper control, -drive these 'free lances' out of England, and restore the reign of -peace." - -"May I not then assist the coming of that day?" - -"How couldst thou? Thou canst never return to Wallingford, or take part -in the horrible warfare, which, nevertheless, is slowly working out -God's Will. No; go abroad, as thou art now _bound_ to do, and never -return to England until thou canst do so with honour." - -"Thou biddest me go at once?" - -"Without wasting a day." - -"What steps must I take?" - -"Dost thou know a moated grange called Lollingdune, in the parish of -Chelseye?" - -"Well." - -"It is an infirmary for Reading Abbey, and the Abbot is expected -to-morrow; thou must go, furnished with credentials from our Abbot -Alured. The Abbot of Reading is a mitred abbot, and has power to accept -thy vows and make thee a knight of the Cross. I doubt if even Brian -would dare touch thee then; but keep out of his way till that time; go -not by way of Wallingford." - -"That were madness. I will make across country." - -"And now, dear son, come to noon-meat; I hear the refectory bell." - - ---- - -To the south-west of the village of Cholsey (Chelseye) the Berkshire -downs sink into the level plain of the valley of the Thames. Here, -therefore, there was that broken ground which always accompanies the -transition from a higher to a lower level, and several spurs of the -higher ranges stretch out into the plain like peninsulas; while in other -places solitary hills, like islands, which indeed they once were, stand -apart from the mainland of hills. - -One of these hill islands was thickly clothed with wood in those days, -as indeed it is now. And to the north-west there lay a "moated grange." - -A deep moat, fed by streams which arose hard by, enclosed half an acre -or less of ground. This had been laid out as a "pleasaunce," and in the -centre was placed a substantial house of stone, of ecclesiastical -design. It was a country residence of the monks of Reading Abbey, where -they sent sick brethren who needed change of air, to breathe the -refreshing breezes which blow off the downs. - -Such a general sense of insecurity, however, was felt all over the -country by clericals and laics alike, that they dug this deep moat, and -every night drew up their drawbridge, leaving the enclosure under the -protection of huge and faithful mastiffs, who had been taught to -reverence a monk's cassock at night, but to distrust all parties wearing -lay attire, whether of mail or otherwise. - -A level plain, between outlying spurs of the downs, lay to the west, -partly grazing land, partly filled with the primeval forest, and boggy -and dangerous in places. Here the cows of the abbey grazed, which -supplied the convalescents with the milk so necessary in their cases; -but every night each member of the "milky herd" was carefully housed -inside the moat. - -There was great preparation going on at the grange of Lollingdune, so -called from its peculiar position at the foot of the hill. The Abbot of -Reading, as we have elsewhere learned, was expected on the morrow. He -was a mighty potentate; thrice honoured; had a seat in the great council -of the kingdom; wore a mitre; was as great and grand as a bishop, and so -was reverenced by all the lesser fry. - -So the cooks were busy. The fatted calf was slain, several fowls had to -pay the debt of nature, carp were in stew; various wines were -broached--Malmsey, Osey, Sack, and such like; devices in pastry -executed, notably a pigeon-pie, with a superincumbent mitre in -pie-crust; and many kinds of sweets were curiously and wonderfully made. - -At the close of the day sweet tinkling bells announced the approach of -the cavalcade over the ridge of the hill to the eastward; and soon a -dozen portly monks, mounted on sleek mules, with silver bells on their -trappings, for they did not affect the warlike horse, and accompanied -meetly by lay attendants, laden with furniture and provisions for the -Abbot's comfort, approached by the "under-down" road, which led from the -gorge of the Thames at Streatley. The whole community turned out to meet -them, and there was such an assembly of dark robes that the bailiff of -the farm jocosely called it "Rook-Fair." - -"_Pax vobiscum fratres omnes, clerici atque laici._ I have come to -repose my weary limbs amongst you, but by St. Martin the air of these -downs is fresh, and will make us relish the venison pasty, or other -humble fare we may receive for the sustenance of our flesh. How are all -the invalids?" - -"They be doing well," said Father Hieronymus, the senior of the monks at -Lollingdune; "and say that the sight of their Abbot will be a most -salutary medicament." - -The Abbot smiled; he liked to think himself loved. - -"But who is this youth in lay attire?" and he smiled sweetly, for he -liked to see a handsome youth. - -"It is one Osric, who has brought letters commendatory from the Abbot of -Dorchester." - -"Our brother Alured--is he well?" - -"He is well, my lord," replied Osric, as he bent the knee. - -"And what dost thou seek, sweet son? dost wish to become a novice of our -poor house of St. Benedict?" - -"Nay, my good lord, it is in another vocation I wish to serve God." - -"And that,--ah, I guess thou wishest to take the Cross and go to the -Holy Land." - -"I do with all my heart." - -"And this letter assures me that thou art a fitting person, and skilled -in the use of carnal weapons." - -"I trust I am." - -"Then thou shalt share our humble fare this night, and then thou shalt -on the morrow take the vow and receive the Cross from my own hands, -after the Mass which follows Terce." - -Osric bowed in joyful assent. And that night he dined at the monastic -table of Lollingdune Grange. The humble fare was the most sumptuous he -had ever known; for at Wallingford Castle they paid small attention to -the culinary art--quantity, not quality, was their motto; they ate of -meat half raw, thinking it increased their ferocity; and "drank the red -wine through the helmet barred." - -But it was not so here; the weakness of the monastic orders, if it was a -weakness, was good cooking. - -"Why should we waste or spoil the good things God has given us?" they -asked. - -We wish our space permitted us to relate the conversation which had -place at that table. The Abbot of Reading was devoted more or less to -King Stephen, for Maude, in one of her progresses, had spoiled the abbey -and irritated the brethren by exacting heavy tribute. So they told many -stories of the misdeeds of the party of the Empress, and many more of -the cruelties of Brian Fitz-Count, whose lordly towers were visible in -the distance. - -Osric sat at table next to the lord Abbot, which was meant for a great -distinction. - -"In what school, my son, hast thou studied the warlike art and the -science of chivalry?" asked the Abbot. - -"In the Castle of Wallingford, my lord." - -"I could have wished thee a better school, but doubtless thou art -leaving them in disgust with their evil deeds of which we hear daily; in -fact, we are told that the townspeople cannot sleep for the shrieks of -the captives in the towers." - -"It is in order to atone for ever having shared in their deeds that I -have left them, and the very penance laid on me is to fight for the -Cross of Christ in atonement for my error." - -"And what will Brian think of it?" - -"I must not let him get hold of me." - -"Then tarry here till I return to Reading, and assuming the palmer's -dress, travel in our train out of his country; he will not dare to -assail us." - -It was wise counsel. - -On the morrow Mass was said in the chapel, which occupied the upper -story of the house, over the dormitories, under a high arched roof, -which was the general arrangement in such country houses of the -monks;[28] and at the offertory Osric offered himself to God as a -Crusader, took the vow, and the Abbot bound the red cross on his arm. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[27] This cruelly ingenious contrivance of thumbscrew, lock, and steel -chain may be seen at the house of John Knox, at Edinburgh, amongst other -similar curiosities. - -[28] The author has twice seen the remains of such chapels in the upper -stories of farmhouses--once monastic granges. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -SWEET SISTER DEATH[29] - - -The reader may feel quite sure that such a nature as Evroult's was not -easily conquered by the gentle influences of Christianity; indeed, -humanly speaking, it might never have yielded had not the weapon used -against it been _Love_. - -One day, as he sat rapt in thought on the sunny bank outside the -hermitage, the hermit and Richard talking quietly at a short distance, -he seemed to receive a sudden inspiration,--he walked up to Meinhold. - -"Father, tell me, do you think you can recover of the leprosy you have -caught from us?" - -"I do not expect to do so." - -"And do you not wish we had never come here?" - -"By no means; God sent you." - -"And you give your life perhaps for us?" - -"The Good Shepherd gave His life for me." - -"Father, I have tried not to listen to you, but I can fight against it -no longer. You are right in all you say, and always have been, -only--only----" - -A pause. The hermit waited in silent joy. - -"Only it was so hard to flesh and blood." - -"And can you yield yourself to His Will now?" - -"I am trying--very hard; I do not even yet know whether I quite can." - -"He will help you, dear boy; He knows how hard it is for us weak mortals -to overcome self." - -"I knew if I had kept well I should have grown up violent, wicked, and -cruel, and no doubt have lost my soul. Do you not think so, father?" - -"Very likely, indeed." - -"And yet I have repined and murmured against Him Who brought me here to -save me." - -"But He will forgive all that, now you truly turn to Him and submit to -His Will." - -"I try to give myself to Him to do as He pleases." - -"And you believe He has done all things well?" - -"Yes." - -"Even the leprosy?" - -"Yes, even that." - -"You are right, my dear son; we must all be purified through suffering, -for what son is he whom the Father chasteneth not? and if we are not -partakers thereof, then are we bastards and not sons. All true children -of God have their Purgatory here or hereafter--far better here. He -suffered more for us." - - ---- - -A few days passed away after this conversation, and a rapid change for -the worse took place in poor Evroult's physical condition. The fell -disease, which had already disfigured him beyond recognition, attacked -the brain. His brother and the hermit could not desire his life to be -prolonged in such affliction, and they silently prayed for his release, -grievous although the pang of separation would be to them both--one out -of their little number of three. - -One day he had been delirious since the morning, and at eventide they -stood still watching him. It had been a dark cloudy day, but now at -sunset a broad vivid glory appeared in the west, which was lighted up -with glorious crimson, azure, and gold, beneath the edge of the curtain -of cloud. - -"'At eventide it shall be light,'" quoted Meinhold. - -"See, he revives," said Richard. - -He looked on their faces. - -"Oh brother, oh dear father, I have seen Him; I have heard with the -hearing of the ear, but now mine eye hath seen Him." - -They thought he spake of a vision, but it may have been, probably _was_, -but a revelation to the inward soul. - -"And now, dear father, give me the Viaticum; I am going, and want my -provision for the way." - -He spoke of the Holy Communion, to which this name was given when -administered to the dying. - -Then followed the Last Anointing, and ere it was over they saw the great -change pass upon him. They saw Death, sometimes called the grim King of -Terrors, all despoiled of his sting; they saw the feeble hand strive to -make the Holy Sign, then fall back; while over his face a mysterious -light played as if the door of Paradise had been left ajar when the -redeemed soul passed in. - -"_Beati qui in Domino morinutur_," said Meinhold; "his Purgatory was -here. Do not cry, Richard; the happy day will soon come when we shall -rejoin him." - -They laid him out before the altar in their rude chapel, and prepared -for the last funeral rite. - - ---- - -Meanwhile disfigured forms were stealing through the woods, and finding -a shelter in various dens and caves, or sleeping round fires kindled in -the open or in woodcutters' huts, deserted through fear of them; as yet -they had not found the hermit's cave or entered the Happy Valley. - -On the morrow Meinhold celebrated the Holy Eucharist, and afterwards -performed the burial service with simplest rites; they then committed -the body to the earth, and afterwards wandered together, discoursing -sweetly on the better life, into the forest, where the twilight was - - - "Like the Truce of God - With earthly pain and woe." - - -Never were they happier--never so full of joy and resignation--these -two unfortunates, as the world deemed them; bearing about the visible -sentence of death on themselves, but they had found the secret of a life -Death could not touch. - -And in their walk they came suddenly upon a man, who reposed under the -shadow of a tree; he seemed asleep, but talked and moaned as if in a -feverish dream. - -"Father, he is a leper like us, look." - -"God has sent him, perhaps, in the place of Evroult." - -They woke him. - -"Where am I?" - -"With friends. Canst walk to our home; it is not far?" - -"Angels from Heaven. Yes, I can walk--see." - -But without their assistance he could never have reached the cave. - -They gave him food; he took little, but drank eagerly. - -"How did you come here?" - -He told them of the plague at Byfield, and of the death of the Chaplain. - -"Happy man!" said Meinhold; "he laid down his life for the sheep the -Good Shepherd had committed to his care." And so may we, he thought. - -That night the poor man grew worse; the dark livid hue overspread him. -Our readers know the rest. - - -Voices might have been heard in the cave the next day--sweet sounds -sometimes as if of hymns of praise. - -The birds and beasts came to the hermit's cave, and marvelled that none -came out to feed them--that no crumbs were thrown to them, no food -brought forth. A bold robin even ventured in, but came out as if -affrighted, and flew right away. - -They sang their sweet songs to each other. No human ear heard them; but -the valley was lovely still. - -Who shall go into that cave and wake the sleepers? Who? - -Then came discordant noises, spoiling nature's sweet harmony--the -baying of hounds, the cries of men sometimes loud and discordant, -sometimes of those who struggled, sometimes of those in pain. - -Louder and louder--the hunt is up--the horse and hound invade the glen. - -A troop of affrighted-looking men hasten down the valley. - -Look, they are lepers. - -They have cause to fear; the deep baying of the mastiffs is deepening, -drawing near. - -They espy the cave--they rush towards it up the slope--in they dash. - -Out again. - -Another group of fugitives follow. - -"The cave! the cave! we may defend the mouth." - -"There are three there already," said the first. - -"_Three?_" - -"_Dead of the Plague._" - -And they would have run away had not the hunters and dogs come upon -them, both ways, up and down the glen. - -They are driven in--some two score in all. - -The leaders of the pursuing party pause. - -"I think," says a dark baron, "I see a way out of our difficulty without -touching a leper." - -"Send the dogs in." - -"In vain; they will not go; they scent something amiss." - -"This cave has but one opening." - -"I have heard that a hermit lived here with two young lepers." - -"Call him." - -"Meinhold! Meinhold!" - -No reply. - -"He is dead long ago, I daresay." - -"If he does not come out it is his own fault." - -"There were two young lepers who dwelt with him." - -"What business had he with lepers?" - -"All the world knew it, and he had caught it himself." - -"Then we will delay no longer. God will know His own." And then he gave -the fatal order. - -"Gather brushwood, sticks, reeds, all that will burn, and pile it in the -mouth of the cave." - -They did so. - -"Fire it." - -The dense clouds of smoke arose, and as they hoped in their cruelty, -were sucked inward. - -"There must be a through draught." - -"Can they get out?" - -"No, lord baron." - -"Watch carefully lest there be other outlets. We must stamp this foul -plague out of the land." - -Then they stood and watched. - -The flames crackled and roared; dense volumes of smoke arose, now -arising above the trees, now entering the cave; the birds screamed -overhead; the fierce men looked on with cruel curiosity; but no sound -was heard from within. - -At this moment the galloping of horsemen was heard. "Our brother of -Kenilworth, doubtless." - -But it was not. A rider in dark armour appeared at the head of a hundred -horsemen. - -"What are you doing?" cried a stern voice. - -"Smoking lepers out." - -"Charge them! cut them down! slay all!" - -And the Wallingford men charged the incendiaries as one man. Like a -thunderbolt, slaying, hewing, hacking, chopping, cleaving heads and -limbs from trunks, with all the more deadly facility as their more -numerous antagonists lacked armour, having only come out to slay lepers. - -The Baron of Hanwell Castle was a corpse; so was the knight of Cropredy -Towers; so was the young lord of Southam; others were writhing in mortal -agony, but within a quarter of an hour more, only the dead and dying -disputed the field with the Wallingford men. The rest had fled, finding -the truth of the proverb, "There be many that come out to shear and go -back shorn." - -"Drag the branches away! pull out the faggots! extinguish the fire! -scatter it! fight fire as ye have fought men!" - -That was done too. They dispersed the fuel, they scattered the embers; -and hardly was this done than Brian rushed in the cave, through the hot -ashes. But scarce could he stay in a moment, the smoke blinded--choked -him. - -Out again, almost beside himself with rage, fear for his boys, and -vexation. - -In again. Out again. - -So three or four abortive attempts. - -At last the smoke partially dispersed, and he could enter. - -The outer cave was empty. - -But in the next subterranean chamber lay a black corpse--a full-grown -man. Brian knew him not. He crossed this cave and entered the next one, -and by the altar knew it was their rude chapel. - -Before the altar lay two figures; their hands clasped in the attitude of -prayer; bent to the earth; still--motionless. - -Their faces, too, were of the same dark hue. - -The one wore the dress of a hermit, the other was a boy of some sixteen -years. - -Brian recognised his younger son in the latter, rather by instinct and -by knowledge of the circumstances than otherwise. - -"It is my Richard. But where is Evroult?" - -"Here," said a voice,--"read." - -Upon the wall was a rude inscription, scratched thereon by Meinhold, his -last labour of love-- - - - EVROULT IN PACE. - - -Little as he possessed the power of reading, Brian recognised his son's -name, and understood all. The strong man fell before that altar, and -for the first time in many years recognised the Hand which had stricken -him. - -They dragged him away, as they felt that the atmosphere was dangerous to -them all--as indeed it was. - -"Leave them where they are--better tomb could they not have; only wall -up the entrance." - -And they set to work, and built huge stones into the mouth of the cave-- - - - "Leaving them to rest in hope-- - Till the Resurrection Day." - - -And what had become of the other lepers? - -Driven by the smoke, they had wandered into the farthest recesses of the -cave--once forbidden to Evroult by the hermit. - -Whether they perished in the recesses, or whether they found some other -outlet, and emerged to the upper day, we know not. No further -intelligence of the poor unfortunates reached the living, or has been -handed down to posterity. - - ---- - -And now, do my readers say this is a very melancholy chapter? Do they -pity, above all, the hermit and Richard, struck down by the pestilence -in an act of which Christ would have said, "Inasmuch as ye did it to the -least of these My brethren, ye did it unto Me"? - -The pestilence saved them from the lingering death of leprosy, and even -had they lived to grow old, they had been dust and ashes seven centuries -ago. What does it matter now whether they lived sixteen or sixty years? -The only point is, did they, through God's grace, merit to hear the -blessed words, "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy -of your Lord"? - -And we think they did. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[29] So called by St. Francis of Assisi. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -FRUSTRATED - - -Had the Abbot of Reading seen fit, or rather had the business on which -he came to Lollingdune allowed him to return home on the day in which he -had decorated Osric with the red cross, it had been well for all -parties, save the writer; for the entangled web of circumstance which -arose will give him scope for another chapter or two, he trusts, of some -interest to the reader. - -As it was, Osric was thrown upon his own resources for the rest of that -day, after the Mass was over; and his thoughts not unnaturally turned to -his old home, where the innocent days of his childhood had been spent, -and to his old nurse Judith, sole relict of that hallowed past. - -Could he not bid her farewell? He had an eye, and he could heed; he had -a foot, and he could speed--let Brian's spies watch ever so narrowly. - -Yes, he _must_ see her. Besides, Osric loved adventure: it was to him -the salt of life. He loved the sensation of danger and of risk. So, -although he knew that there must be a keen hunt on foot from Wallingford -Castle after the fugitives, and that the old cottage might be watched, -he determined to risk it all for the purpose of saying good-bye to his -dear old nurse. - -So, without confiding his purpose to any one, he started on foot. He -passed the old church of Aston Upthorpe, where his grandfather lay -buried, breathing a prayer for the old man, as also a thanksgiving for -the teaching which had at last borne fruit, for he felt that he was -reconciled to God and man, now that he had taken the Holy Vow, and -abandoned his godless life at Wallingford Castle. Then passing between -the outlying fort of Blewburton and the downs, he entered the maze of -forest. - -But as he approached the spot, he took every precaution. He scanned each -avenue of approach from Wallingford; he looked warily into each glade; -anon, he paused and listened, but all was still, save the usual sounds -of the forest, never buried in absolute silence. - -At length he crossed the stream and stood before the door of the hut. He -paused one moment; then he heard the well-known voice crooning a snatch -of an old ballad; he hesitated no longer. - -"Judith!" - -"My darling," said the fond old nurse, "thou hast come again to see me. -Tell me, is it all right? Hast thou found thy father?" - -"I have." - -"Where? Tell me?" - -"At Dorchester Abbey of course." - -Judith sighed. - -"And what did he say to thee?" - -"Bade me go on the Crusades. And so I have taken the vow, and to-morrow -I leave these parts perhaps, for ever." - -"Alas! it is too bad. Why has he not told thee the whole truth? Woe is -me! the light of mine eyes is taken from me. I shall never see thee -again." - -"That is in God's hands." - -"How good thou hast grown, my boy! Thou didst not talk like this when -thou camest home from the castle." - -"Well, perhaps I have learnt better;" and he sighed, for there was a -reproach, as if the old dame had said, "Is Saul also amongst the -prophets?" - -"But, my boy," she continued, "is this all? Did not Wulfnoth--I mean -Father Alphege--tell thee more than this?" - -"What more could he tell me?" - -She rocked herself to and fro. - -"I _must_ tell him; but oh, my vow----" - -"Osric, my child, my bonnie boy, thou dost not even yet know all, and I -am bound _not_ to tell thee. But I was here when thou wast brought home -by Wulfnoth, a baby-boy; and--and I know what I found out--I saw--God -help me: but I swore by the Black Cross of Abingdon I would not tell." - -"Judith, what can you mean?" - -"If you only knew, perhaps you would not go on this crusade." - -"Whither then? I _must_ go." - -"To Wallingford." - -"But _that_ I can never do. I have broken with them and their den of -darkness for ever." - -"Nay, nay; it may be all thine own one day, and thou mayst let light -into it." - -"What can you mean? You distract me." - -"I cannot say. Ah!--a good thought. You may look--I didn't say I -wouldn't show. See, Osric, I will show thee what things were on thy -baby-person when thou wast brought home. Here--look." - -She rummaged in her old chest and brought forth--a ring with a seal, a -few articles of baby attire, a little red shoe, a small frock, and a -lock of maiden's hair. - -"Look at the ring." - -It bore a crest upon a stone of opal. - -_The crest was the crest of Brian Fitz-Count._ - -"Well, what does this mean?" said Osric. "How came this ring on my -baby-self?" - -"Dost thou not see? Blind! blind! blind!" - -"And deaf too--deaf! deaf! deaf!" said a voice. "Dost thou not hear the -tread of horses, the bay of the hound, the clamour of men who seek thee -for no good?" - -It was young Ulric who stood in the doorway. - -"Good-bye, nurse; they are after me; I must go." - -"What hast thou done?" - -"Let all their captives loose. Farewell, dear nurse;" and he embraced -her. - -"Haste, Osric, haste," said the youthful outlaw, "or thou wilt be -taken." - -They dashed from the hut. - -"This way," said Ulric. - -And they crossed the stream in the opposite direction to the advancing -sounds. - -"I lay hid in the forest and heard them say they would seek thee in -thine old home, as they passed my lurking-place." - -"Now, away." - -"But they may hurt Judith. Nay, Brian has not yet returned, _cannot_ yet -have come back, and without his orders they would not dare. He forbade -them once before even to _touch_ the cottage." - -They pressed onward through the woods. - -"Whither do we go?" said Osric, who had allowed his young preserver to -lead. - -"To our haunt in the swamp." - -"You have saved me, Ulric." - -"Then it has been measure for measure, for didst thou not save me when -in direful dumps? Wilt thou not tarry with us, and be a merry man of the -greenwood?" - -"Nay, I am pledged to the Crusades." - -Ulric was about to reply, when he stopped to listen. - -"There is the bay of that hound again: it is one of a breed they have -trained to hunt men." - -"I know him--it is old Pluto; I have often fed him: he would not hurt -me." - -"But he would _discover_ thee, nevertheless, and _I_ should not be safe -from his fangs." - -"Well, we are as swift of foot as they--swifter, I should think. Come, -we must jump this brook." - -Alas! in jumping, Osric's foot slipped from a stone on which he most -unhappily alighted, and he sank on the ground with a momentary thrill of -intense pain, which made him quite faint. - -He had sprained his ankle badly. - -Ulric turned pale. - -Osric got up, made several attempts to move onward, but could only limp -painfully forward. - -"Ulric, I should only destroy both thee and me by perseverance in this -course." - -"Never mind about me." - -"But I do. See this umbrageous oak--how thick its branches; it is hollow -too. I know it well. I will hide in the tree, as I have often done when -a boy in mere sport. You run on." - -"I will; and make the trail so wide that they will come after _me_." - -"But will not this lead them to the haunt?" - -"Water will throw them when I come to the swamps. I can take care." - -"Farewell, then, my Ulric; the Saints have thee in their holy keeping." - -The two embraced as those who might never meet again--but as those who -part in haste--and Ulric plunged into the thicket and disappeared. - -Osric lay hidden in the branches of the hollow tree. There was a -comfortable seat about ten feet from the ground, the feet hidden in the -hollow of the oak, the head and shoulders by the thick foliage. He did -not notice that Ulric had divested himself of an upper garment he wore, -and left it accidentally or otherwise on the ground. All was now still. -The sound of the boy's passage through the thick bushes had ceased. The -scream of the jay, the tap of the woodpecker, the whirr of an occasional -flight of birds alone broke the silence of the forest day. - -Then came a change. The crackling of dry leaves, the low whisper of -hunters, and that sound--that bell-like sound--the bay of the hound, -like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose, pursuing his prey -relentlessly, unerringly, guided by that marvellous instinct of scent, -which to the pursued seemed even diabolical. - -At last they broke through the bushes and passed beneath the -tree--seven mounted pursuers. - -"See, here is the trail; it is as plain as it can be," cried Malebouche; -for it was he, summoned in the emergency from Shirburne, the Baron not -having yet returned--six men in company. - -But the dog hesitated. They had given him a piece of Osric's raiment to -smell before starting, and he pointed at the tree. - -Luckily the men did not see it; for they saw on the ground the tunic -Ulric had thrown off to run, with the unselfish intention that that -should take place which now happened, confident he could throw off the -hound. - -The men thrust it to the dog's nose, thinking it Osric's,--they knew not -there were _two_--and old Pluto growled, and took the new scent with far -keener avidity than before, for now he was bidden to chase one he might -tear. Before it was a friend, the scent of whose raiment he knew full -well. They were off again. - -All was silence once more around the hollow tree for a brief space, and -Osric was just about to depart and try to limp to Lollingdune, when -steps were heard again in the distance, along the brook, where the path -from the outlaws' cave lay. - -Osric peered from his covert: they were passing about a hundred yards -off. - -Oh, horror! they had got Ulric. - -"How had it chanced?" - -Osric never knew whether the dog had overtaken him, or what accident had -happened; all he saw was that they had the lad, and were taking him, as -he judged, to Wallingford, when they halted and sat down on some fallen -trees, about a hundred yards from his concealment. They had wine, flesh, -and bread, and were going to enjoy a mediæval picnic; but first they -tied the boy carefully to a tree, so tightly and cruelly that he must -have suffered much unnecessary pain; but little recked they. - -The men ate and drank, the latter copiously. So much the worse for -Ulric--drink sometimes inflames the passions of cruelty and violence. - -"Why should we take him home? our prey is about here somewhere." - -"Why not try a little torture, Sir Squire--a knotted string round the -brain? we will make him tell all he knows, or make the young villain's -eyes start out of his forehead." - -The suggestion pleased Malebouche. - -"Yes," he said, "we may as well settle his business here. I have a -little persuader in my pocket, which I generally carry on these errands; -it often comes useful;" and he produced a small thumbscrew. - -Enough; we will spare the details. They began to carry out their -intention, and soon forced a cry from their victim--although, judging -from his previous constancy, I doubt whether they would have got -more--when they heard a sound--a voice-- - -"STOP! let the lad go; he shall not be tortured for me. I yield myself -in his place." - -"Osric! Osric!" - -And the men almost leapt for joy. - -"Malebouche, I am he you seek--I am your prisoner; but let the boy go, -and take me to Wallingford." - -"Oh, why hast thou betrayed thyself?" said Ulric. - -"Not so fast, my young lord, for lord thou didst think thyself--thou -bastard, brought up as a falcon. Why should I let him go? I have you -both." - -But the boy had been partially untied to facilitate their late -operations, which necessitated that the hands cruelly bound behind the -back should be released; and while every eye was fixed on Osric, he -shook off the loosened cord which attached him to the tree, and was off -like a bird. - -He had almost escaped--another minute and he had been beyond -arrow-shot--when Malebouche, snatching up a bow, sent a long arrow after -him. Alas! it was aimed with Norman skill, and it pierced through the -back of the unfortunate boy, who fell dead on the grass, the blood -gushing from mouth and nose. - -Osric uttered a plaintive cry of horror, and would have hurried to his -assistance, but they detained him rudely. - -"Nay, leave him to rot in the woods--if the wolves and wild cats do not -bury him first." - -And they took their course for Wallingford, placing their prisoner -behind a horseman, to whom they bound him, binding also his legs beneath -the belly of the horse. - -After a little while Malebouche turned to Osric-- - -"What dost thou expect when our lord returns?" - -"Death. It is not the worst evil." - -"But what manner of death?" - -"Such as may chance; but thou knowest he will not torture _me_." - -"He may hang thee." - -"Wait and see. Thou art a murderer thyself, for whom hanging is perhaps -too good. God may have worse things in store for thee. Thou hast -committed murder and sacrilege to-day." - -"Sacrilege?" - -"Yes; thou hast seized a Crusader. Dost not see my red cross?" - -"It is easy to bind a bit of red rag crossways upon one's shoulder. Who -took thy vows?" - -"The Abbot of Reading; he is now at Lollingdune." - -"Ah, ah! Brian Fitz-Count shall settle that little matter; he may not -approve of Crusaders who break open his castle. Take him to Wallingford, -my friends. I shall go back and get that deer we slew just before we -caught the boy; our larder is short." - -So Malebouche rode back into the forest alone. - -Let us follow him. - -It was drawing near nightfall. The light fleecy clouds which floated -above were fast losing the hues of the departing sun, which had tinted -their western edges with crimson; the woods were getting dim and dark; -but Malebouche persisted in his course. He had brought down a fine -young buck with his bow, and had intended to send for it, being at that -moment eager in pursuit of his human prey; but now he had leisure, and -might throw it across his horse, and bring it home in triumph. - -Before reaching the place the road became very ill-defined, and speedily -ceased to be a road at all; but Malebouche could still see the broken -branches and trampled ground along which they had pursued their prey -earlier in the day. - -At last he reached the deer, and tying the horse to a branch of a tree, -proceeded to disembowel it ere he placed it across the steed, as was the -fashion; but as he was doing this, the horse made a violent plunge, and -uttered a scream of terror. Malebouche turned--a pair of vivid eyes were -glaring in the darkness. - -It was a wolf, attracted by the scent of the butchery. - -Malebouche rushed to the aid of his horse, but before he could reach the -poor beast it broke through all restraint in its agony of fear that the -wolf might prefer horse-flesh to venison, and tearing away the branch -and all, galloped for dear life away, away, towards distant Wallingford, -the wolf after it; for when man or horse runs, the savage beast, whether -dog or wolf, seems bound to follow. - -So Malebouche was left alone with his deer in the worst possible humour. - -It was useless now to think of carrying the whole carcass home; so he -cut off the haunch only, and throwing it over his shoulder, started. - -A storm came drifting up and obscured the rising moon--the woods grew -very dark. - -Onward he tramped--wearily, wearily, tramp! tramp! splash! splash! - -He had got into a bog. - -How to get out of it was the question. He had heard there was a quagmire -somewhere about this part of the forest, of bottomless depth, men said. - -So he strove to get back to firm ground, but in the darkness went -wrong; and the farther he went the deeper he sank. - -Up to the knees. - -Now he became seriously alarmed, and abandoned his venison. - -Up to the middle. - -"Help! help!" he cried. - -Was there none to hear? - -Yes. At this moment the clouds parted, and the moon shone forth through -a gap in their canopy--a full moon, bright and clear. - -Before him walked a boy, about fifty yards ahead. - -"Boy! boy! stop! help me!" - -The boy did not turn, but walked on, seemingly on firm ground. - -But Malebouche was intensely relieved. - -"Where he can walk I can follow;" and he exerted all his strength to -overtake the boy, but he sank deeper and deeper. - -The boy seemed to linger, as if he heard the cry, and beckoned to -Malebouche to come to him. - -The squire strove to do so, when all at once he found no footing, and -sank slowly. - -He was in the fatal quagmire of which he had heard. - -Slowly, slowly, up to the middle--up to the neck. - -"Boy, help! help! for Heaven's sake!" - -The boy stood, as it seemed, yet on firm ground. And now he threw aside -the hood that had hitherto concealed his features, and looked Malebouche -in the face. - -_It was the face of the murdered Ulric_ upon which Malebouche gazed! and -the whole figure vanished into empty air as he looked. - -One last despairing scream--then a sound of choking--then the head -disappeared beneath the mud--then a bubble or two of air breaking the -surface of the bog--then all was still. And the mud kept its secret for -ever. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -FATHER AND SON - - -Meanwhile Osric was brought back as a prisoner to the grim stronghold -where for years his position had been that of the chartered favourite of -the mighty Baron who was the lord thereof. - -When the news had spread that he was at the gates, all the inmates of -the castle--from the grim troopers to the beardless pages--crowded to -see him enter, and perhaps to exult over the fallen favourite; for it is -not credible that the extraordinary partiality Brian had ever shown -Osric should have failed to excite jealousy, although his graceful and -unassuming bearing had done much to mollify the feeling in the hearts of -many. - -And there was nought common or mean in his behaviour; nor, on the other -hand, aught defiant or presumptuous. All was simple and natural. - -"Think you they will put him to the torture?" said a youngster. - -"They dare not till the Baron returns," said his senior. - -"And then?" - -"I doubt it." - -"The rope, then, or the axe?" - -"Perchance the latter." - -"But he is not of gentle blood." - -"Who knows?" - -"If it were you or I?" - -"Hanging would be too good for us." - -In the courtyard the party of captors awaited the orders of the Lady -Maude, now regent in her stern husband's absence. They soon came. - -"Confine him strictly, but treat him well." - -So he was placed in the prison reserved for the captives of gentle -birth, or entitled to special distinction, in the new buildings of -Brian's Close; and Tustain gnashed his teeth, for he longed to have the -torturing of him. - -Unexpected guests arrived at the castle that night--that is, unexpected -by those who were not in the secret of the letters Osric had written and -the Baron had sent out when Osric last played his part of -secretary--Milo, Earl of Hereford, and Sir Alain of St. Maur, some time -page at Wallingford. - -At the banquet the Lady Maude, sorely distressed, confided her griefs to -her guests. - -"We all trusted him. That he should betray us is past bearing." - -"Have you not put him on the rack to learn who bought him?" - -"I could not. It is as if my own son had proved false. We all loved -him." - -"Yet he was not of noble birth, I think." - -"No. Do you not remember the hunt in which you took part when my lord -first found him? Well, the boy, for he was a mere lad of sixteen then, -exercised a wonderful glamour over us all; and, as Alain well knows, he -rose rapidly to be my lord's favourite squire, and would soon have won -his spurs, for he was brave--was Osric." - -"Lady, may I see him? He knows me well; and I trust to learn the -secret," said Alain. - -"Take this ring; it will ope the doors of his cell to thee." - -"And take care _thou_ dost not make use of it to empty Brian's Close," -said Milo ironically. - -Alain laughed, and proceeded on his mission. - - ---- - -"Osric, my fellow-page and brother, what is the meaning of this? why art -thou here?" - -He extended his hand. Osric grasped it. - -"Dost thou not know I did a Christlike deed?" - -"Christlike?" - -"Yes. Did He not open the prison doors of Hell when He descended -thither, and let the captives out of Limbus? I daresay the Dragon did -not like it." - -"Osric, the subject is too serious for jesting." - -"I am not jesting." - -"But what led thee to break thy faith?" - -"My faith to a higher Master than even the Lord of Wallingford, to whom -I owed so much." - -"The Church never taught me that much: if all we do is so wrong, why are -we not excommunicated? Why, we are allowed our chapel, our chaplain--who -troubles himself little about what goes on--our Masses! and we shall -easily buy ourselves out of Purgatory when all is over." - -Too true, Alain; the Church did grievously neglect her duty at -Wallingford and elsewhere, and passively allow such dreadful dens of -tyranny to exist. But Osric had learnt better. - -"I do not believe you will buy yourselves out. The old priest who served -our little church once quoted a Saint--I think they called him -'Augustine'--who said such things could only profit those whose lives -merited that they should profit them. But you did not come here to -discuss religion." - -"No, indeed. Tell me what changed your mind?" - -"Things that I heard at my grandfather's deathbed, which taught me I had -been aiding and abetting in the Devil's work." - -"Devil's work, Osric! The tiger preys upon the deer, the wolf on the -sheep, the fox on the hen, the cat on the bird,--it is so all through -creation; and we do the same. Did the Devil ordain the laws of nature?" - -"God forbid. But men are brethren." - -"Brethren are we! Do you think I call the vile canaille my -brethren?--not I. The base fluid which circulates in their veins is not -like the generous blood which flows in the veins of the noble and -gallant. I have no more sympathy with such folk than the cat with the -mouse. Her nature, which God gave, teaches her to torture, much as we -torment our captives in Brian's Close or elsewhere; but knights, nobles, -gentlemen,--they are my brethren. We slay each other in generous -emulation,--in the glorious excitement of battle,--but we torture them -not. _Noblesse oblige._" - -"I cannot believe in the distinction; and you will find out I am right -some day, and that the blood of your victims, the groans of your -captives, will be visited on your head." - -"Osric, you are one of the conquered race,--is it not so? Sometimes I -doubted it." - -"I am one of your victims; and I would sooner be of the sufferers than -of the tyrants." - -"I can say no more; something has spoilt a noble nature. Do you not -dread Brian's return?" - -"No." - -"Why not? I should in your place. He loved you." - -"I have a secret to tell him which, methinks, will explain all." - -"Wilt not tell it me?" - -"No; I may not yet." - -And Alain took his departure sorrowfully, none the wiser. - - ---- - -The sound of trumpets--the beating of drums. The Baron returns. He -enters the proud castle, which he calls his own, with downcast head. The -scene in the woods near Byfield has sobered him. - -One more grievous blow awaits him,--one to wound him in his tenderest -feelings, perhaps the only soft spot in that hard heart. What a mystery -was hidden in his whole relation to Osric! What could have made the -tiger love the fawn? Was it some deep mysterious working of nature? - -Can the reader guess? Probably, or he has read our tale to little -purpose. - -Osric knows it is coming. He braces himself for the interview. He prays -for support and wisdom. - -The door opens--Brian enters. - -He stands still, and gazes upon Osric for full five minutes ere he -speaks. - -"Osric, what means this?" - -"I have but done my duty. Pardon me, my lord, but the truth must be -spoken now." - -"Thy duty! to break thy faith?" - -"To man but not to God." - -"Osric, what causes this change? I trusted thee, I loved thee, as never -I loved youth before. Thou hast robbed me of my confidence in man." - -"My lord, I will tell thee. At my grandfather's dying bed I learnt a -secret I knew not before." - -"And that secret?" - -"I am the son of Wulfnoth of Compton." - -"So thy grandfather told _me_--_I_ knew it." - -"But I knew not that thou didst slay my kindred--that my mother perished -under thy hands in her burning house--and I alone escaped. Had I known -it, could I have loved and served thee?--NEVER." - -"And yet repenting of that deed, I have striven to atone for it by my -conduct to thee." - -"Couldst thou _hope_ to do so? nay, I acknowledge thy kindness." - -"And thou wouldst open my castle to the foe and slay me in return?" - -"No; we shed no blood--only delivered the helpless. Thou hadst made me -take part in the slaughter, the torture of mine own helpless countrymen, -whose blood God will surely require at our hands, if we repent not. I -have repented, but I could not harm thee. See, I had taken the Cross, -and was on my way to the Holy Wars, when thy minions seized me and -brought me back." - -"Thou hast taken the Cross?" - -"I have." - -"I know not whether thou dost think that I can let thee go: it would -destroy all discipline in my castle. Right and left, all clamour for thy -life. The late-comers from Ardennes swear they will desert if such order -is kept as thy forgiveness would denote. Nay, Osric, thou must die; but -thy death shall be that of a noble, to which by birth thou art not -entitled." - -The choking of the voice, the difficulty of utterance which accompanied -this last speech, showed the deep sorrow with which Brian spoke. Brutus -sacrificing his sons may have shown less emotion. Osric felt it deeply. - -"My lord, do what you think your duty, and behead your former favourite. -I forgive you all you have done, and may think it right yet to do. I die -in peace with you and the world." - -And Osric turned his face to the wall. - -The Baron left the cell, where he found his fortitude deserting him. - -As he appeared on the ramparts he heard all round the muttered words-- - -"Death to the traitor! death!" - -At last he spoke out fiercely. - -"Stop your throats, ye hounds, barking and whining for blood. Justice -shall be done. Here, Alain, seek the doomster Coupe-gorge and the -priest; send the priest to your late friend, and tell the doomster to -get his axe ready; tell Osric thyself he dies at sundown." - -A loud shout of exultation. - -Brian gnashed his teeth. - -"Bring forth my steed." - -The steed was brought. - -He turned to a pitying knight who stood by, the deputy-governor in his -absence. - -"If I return not, delay not the execution after sunset. Let it be on the -castle green." - -A choking sensation--he put his hand to his mouth; when he withdrew it, -it was tinged with blood. - -He dashed the spurs into his steed; the drawbridges fell before him; he -rode at full gallop along the route by the brook described in our second -chapter. Whither was he bound? - -_For Cwichelm's Hlawe._ - -It is a wonder that he was not thrown over and over again; but chance -often protects the reckless while the careful die. He rides through the -forest over loose stones--over protruding roots of trees--still he kept -his seat; he flew like the whirlwind, but he escaped projecting -branches. In an hour he was ascending the slope from Chiltune to the -summit of the hill. - -He reined his panting steed at the foot of the barrow. - -"Hag, come forth!" - -No reply. - -He tied up his steed to a tree and entered her dread abode--the ancient -sepulchre. - -She sat over the open stone coffin with its giant skeleton. - -"Here thou art then, witch!" - -"What does Brian Fitz-Count want of me?" - -"I seek thee as Saul sought the Witch of Endor--in dire trouble. The -boy, old Sexwulf's grandson"--he could not frame his lips to say -Wulfnoth's son--"has proved false to me." - -"Why hast thou not smitten him, and ridden thyself of '_so frail an -encumbrance_'?" - -"I could not." - -"Did I not tell thee so long syne? ah, ha!" - -"Tell me, thou witch, why does the death of a peasant rend my very -heart? Tell me, didst thou not give me a philter, a potion or something, -when I was here? My heart burns--what is it?" - -"Brian Fitz-Count, there is one who can solve the riddle--seek him." - -"Who is he?" - -"Ride at once to Dorchester Abbey--waste no time--ask to see Father -Alphege, he shall tell thee all. When is the boy to die?" - -"At sundown." - -"Then there is no time to be lost. It is now the ninth hour; thou hast -but three hours. Ride, ride, man! if he die before thy return, thy -heart-strings will crack. Ride, man, ride! if ever thou didst -ride--Dorchester first, Father Alphege, then Wallingford Castle." - -Brian rushed from the cavern--he gave full rein to his horse--he drove -his spurs deep into the sides of the poor beast. - -Upon the north-east horizon stood the two twin clumps of Synodune, about -ten miles off; he fixed his eyes upon them; beyond them lay Dorchester; -he descended the hill at a dangerous pace, and made for those landmarks. - -He rode through Harwell--passed the future site of Didcot Station, where -locomotives now hiss and roar--he left the north Moor-town on the -right--he crossed the valley between the twin hills--he swam the river, -for the water was high at the ford--he passed the gates of the old -cathedral city. Every one trembled as they saw him, and hid from his -presence. He dismounted at the abbey gates. - -The porter hesitated to open. - -"I have come to see Father Alphege--open!" - -"This is not Wallingford Castle," said the daring porter, strong in -monastic immunities. - -Brian remembered where he was, and sobered down. - -"Then I would fain see the Abbot at once: life or death hang upon it." - -"Thou mayst enter the hospitium and wait his pleasure." - -He waited nearly half an hour. They kept him on purpose, to show him -that he was not the great man at Dorchester he was at Wallingford. But -they were unwittingly cruel; they knew not his need. - -Meanwhile the Abbot sought Father Alphege, and told him who sought him. - -"Canst thou bear to see him?" - -"I can; it is the will of Heaven." - -"Then he shall see thee in the church; the sacred house of God will -restrain you both. Enter the confessional; he shall seek thee there." - -Then the Abbot sought Brian. - -"Come with me and I will show thee him thou seekest." - -Brian was faint with exhaustion, but the dire need, the terrible -expectation of some awful secret, held him up. He had had no food that -day, but he recked not. - -The Abbot Alured led him into the church. - -The confessional was a stone cell[30] in the thickness of the wall, -entered by the priest from a side chapel. The penitent approached from -the opposite side of the wall from the nave of the church. - -"I am not come to make a confession--yes I am, though, yet not an -ordinary one." - -"Go to that aperture, and through it thou mayst tell your grief, or -whatever thou hast to say, to Father Alphege." - -Brian went to the spot, but he knelt not. - -"Father Alphege, is it thou?" he said. - -"It is I. What does Brian Fitz-Count seek of me? Art thou a penitent?" - -"I know not. A witch sent me to thee." - -"A witch?" - -"Yes--Hertha of Cwichelm's Hlawe." - -"Why?" - -"Listen. I adopted a boy, the son of a man I had slain, partly, I think, -to atone for a crime once committed, wherein I fired his house, and -burnt his kith and kin, save this one boy. I loved him; he won his way -to my heart; he seemed like my own son; and then he _betrayed_ me. And -now he is doomed to death." - -"To die WHEN?" almost shrieked the priest. - -"At sundown." - -"God of Mercy! he must not die. Wouldst thou slay thy son?" - -"He is not my son by blood--I only meant by adoption." - -"Listen, Brian Fitz-Count, to words of solemn truth, although thou wilt -find them hard to believe. He is thine _own_ son--the son of thy -bowels." - -Brian felt as if his head would burst beneath the aching brain. A cold -sweat bedewed him. - -"Prove it," he said. - -"I will. Brian Fitz-Count, I am Wulfnoth of Compton." - -"Thou? I slew thee on the downs in mortal combat." - -"Nay, I yet breathed. The good monks of Dorchester passed by and brought -me _here_. I took the vows, and here I am. Now listen: thou didst slay -my loved and dearest ones, but I can forgive thee now. Canst thou in -turn forgive me?" - -"Forgive thee what?" - -"In my revenge, I robbed thee of thy son and brought him up as my own." - -"But Sexwulf swore that the lad was his grandson." - -"He believed it. I wilfully deceived him; but the old nurse Judith has -the proofs--a ring with thy crest, a lock of maiden's hair." - -"Good God! they were his mother's, and hung about his little neck when -we lost him. Man, how couldst thou?" - -"Thou didst slay all mine, and I made thee feel _like_ pangs. And when -the boy came to me after his deadly breach with thee, although I had -forgiven thee, I could not tell him the truth, lest I should send him to -be a murderer like unto thee; but I did my best for him. I sent him to -the Holy Wars, and----" - -He discovered that he spake but to the empty air. - -Brian was gone. - - ---- - -A crowd was on the green sward of the castle, which filled the interior -between the buildings. In the centre rose a scaffold, whereon was the -instrument of death, the block, the axe. A priest stood by the side of -the victim, and soothed him with holy rite and prayer. The executioner -leant on his axe. - -From the courtyard--the green of the castle--the sun was no longer -visible; but the watchman on the top of the keep saw him from that giddy -height descending like a ball of fire towards Cwichelm's Hlawe. It was -his to give the signal when the sun sank behind the hill. - -Every window was full--every coigne of vantage to see the sight. Alas! -human nature is ever the same. Witness the precincts of the Old Bailey -on hanging mornings in our grandfathers' days! - -The man on the keep saw the sun actually touch the trees on the summit -of the distant hill, and bathe them in fiery light. Another minute and -all would be over. - -In the intense silence, the galloping of a horse was heard--a horse -strong and powerful. Down went the drawbridges. - -The man on the keep saw, and omitted to give the signal, as the sun -disappeared. - -"Hold! hold!" cried a commanding voice. - -It was Brian on his foaming steed. He looked as none had ever seen him -look before; but joy was on his face. - -He was in time, and no more. - -"Take him to my chamber, priest; executioner, put up thine axe, there -will be no work for it to-day. Men of Wallingford, Osric is my son--my -own son--the son of my bowels. I cannot spare you my son. Thank God, I -am in time." - - ---- - -Into that chamber we cannot follow them. The scene is beyond our power -of description. It was Nature which had all the time been speaking in -that stern father's heart, and now she had her way. - - ---- - -On the following morning a troop left Wallingford Castle for Reading -Abbey. The Baron rode at its head, and by his side rode Osric. Through -Moulsford, and Streatley, and Pangbourne--such are their modern -names--they rode; the Thames on their left hand, the downs on their -right. The gorgeous abbey, in the freshness of its early youth, rose -before them. Would we had space to describe its glories! They entered, -and Brian presented Osric to the Abbot. - -"Here, my lord Abbot, is the soldier of the Cross whom thou didst -enroll. He is lame as yet, from an accident, but will soon be ready for -service. Meanwhile he would fain be thy guest." - -The Abbot was astonished. - -"What has chanced, my son? We wondered that thou didst not rejoin us, -and feared thou hadst faltered." - -"He has found a father, who restrained his freedom." - -"A father?" - -"But who now gives his boy to thee. Osric is my son." - -The Abbot was astonished; as well he might be. - -"Go, my Osric, to the hospitium; let me speak to my lord Abbot alone." - -And Brian told his story, not without strong emotion. - -"What wilt thou do now, my Lord of Wallingford?" - -"He shall fulfil his vow, for himself and for me. But, my lord, my sins -have come home to me. What shall I do? Would I could go with him! but my -duties, my plighted faith to my Queen, restrain me. Even to-morrow the -leaders of our cause meet at Wallingford Castle." - -"Into politics we enter not here. But thy sin, if thou hast sinned, God -hath left the means of forgiveness. Repent--confess--thou shall be -loosed from all." - -"I have not been shriven for a long time, but I will be now." - -"Father Osmund is a meet confessor." - -"Nay, the man whom I wronged shall shrive me both as priest and man--so -shall I feel forgiven." - - ---- - -They parted--the father and son--and Brian rode to Dorchester, and -sought Father Alphege again. Into the solemn secrets of that interview -we may not enter. No empty form was there; priest and penitent mingled -their tears, and ere the formal absolution was pronounced by the priest -they forgave each other as men, and then turned to Him of Whom it is -written-- - - - "Yea, like as a father pitieth his own children, - Even so is the Lord merciful unto them that fear Him." - - -And taught by adversity, Brian feared Him now. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[30] The like may be still seen in the great church at Warwick. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -IN THE HOLY LAND - - "Last scene of all, - Which ends this strange eventful history." - - -Our tale is all but told. Osric reached the Holy Land in safety, more -fortunate than many of his fellows; and there, hearing Brian's -recommendations and acknowledged as his son, joined the order of the -Knights Templars,--that splendid order which was astonishing the world -by its valour and its achievements, whose members were half monks, half -warriors, and wore the surplice over the very coat of mail; having their -chief church in the purified Mosque of Omar, on the site of the Temple -of Jerusalem, and their mission to protect pilgrims and defend the Holy -City. - -He was speedily admitted to knighthood, a distinction his valour fully -justified; and we leave him--gratifying both the old and the new man: -the old man in his love of fighting, the new man in his self-conquest--a -far nobler thing after all. It was a combination sanctioned by the -holiest, best men of that age; such as St. Bernard, whose hymns still -occupy a foremost place in our worship.[31] - -Brian still continued his warlike career, but there was a great change -in his mode of warfare. Wallingford Castle was no longer sullied by -unnecessary cruelties. Coupe-gorge and Tustain had an easy time of it. - -In 1152 Stephen again besieged Wallingford, but the skill and valour of -Brian Fitz-Count forced him to retreat. Again, having reduced the -Castle of Newbury, he returned, and strove to reduce the place by -famine, blocking them in on every side; so that they were forced to send -a message to Henry Plantagenet to come to their aid from Normandy. He -embarked in January 1153 with three thousand foot and a hundred and -forty horse. Most of the great nobles of the west joined his standard in -his passage through England, and he was in time to relieve Wallingford, -besieging the besiegers in their Crowmarsh fort. Stephen came in turn to -relieve them with the barons who adhered to his standard, accompanied by -his son, the heir presumptive, Eustace, animated with strong emulation -against Henry. On his approach, Henry made a sudden sally, and took by -storm the fort at the head of the bridge, which Stephen had erected the -year before, and following the cruel customs of the war, caused all the -defenders to be beheaded on the bridge. Then leaving a sufficient force -to bridle Crowmarsh, Henry marched out with great alacrity to offer -Stephen a pitched battle and decide the war. He had not gone far when he -found Stephen encamped on Cholsey Common, and both sides prepared for -battle with eagerness. - -But the Earl of Arundel, assembling all the nobility and principal -leaders, addressed them. - -"It is now fourteen years since the rage of civil war first infected the -kingdom. During that melancholy period what blood has been shed, what -desolation and misery brought on the people! The laws have lost their -force; the Crown its authority; this great and noble nation has been -delivered over as a prey to the basest of foreigners,--the abominable -scum of Flanders, Brabant, and Brittany,--robbers rather than soldiers, -restrained by no laws, Divine or human,--instruments of all tyranny, -cruelty, and violence. At the same time our cruel neighbours the Welsh -and the Scotch, taking advantage of our distress, have ravaged our -borders. And for what good? When Maude was Queen, she alienated all -hearts by her pride and violence, and made them regret Stephen. And when -Stephen returned to power, he made them regret Maude. He discharged not -his foreign hirelings; but they have lived ever since at free-quarters, -plundering our houses, burning our cities, preying upon the very bowels -of the land, like vultures upon a dying beast. Now, here are two new -armies of Angevins, Gascons, and what not. If Henry conquer, he must -confiscate our property to repay them, as the Conqueror that of the -English, after Senlac. If Stephen conquer, have we any reason to think -he will reign better than before? Therefore let us make a third -party--that of peace. Let Stephen reign (with proper restraint) for -life, and Henry, as combining the royal descent of both nations, succeed -him." - -The proposal was accepted with avidity, with loud shouts, "So be it: God -wills it." - -Astonishment and rage seized Eustace, thus left out in the cold; but his -father, weary of strife, gave way, and Stephen and Henry met within a -little distance from the two camps, in a meadow near Wallingford, the -river flowing between the two armies--which had been purposely so -disposed to prevent collision--and the conditions of peace were -virtually settled on the river-bank. - -Eustace went off in a great rage with the knights of his own household, -and ravaged the country right and left, showing what an escape England -had in his disappointment. His furious passion, coupled with violent -exertion, brought on a brain fever, of which he died. Alas, poor young -prince! But his death saved thousands of innocent lives, and brought -peace to poor old England. The treaty was finally concluded in November -1153, in the fourteenth year of the war. Stephen died the following -year, and Henry quietly succeeded; who sent the free-lances back to the -continent, and demolished one thousand one hundred and fifteen robbers' -castles. - - ---- - - - "Peace and no more from out its brazen portals - The blasts of war's great organ shake the skies, - But beautiful as songs of the immortals, - The holy harmonies of peace arise." - - -And now Brian Fitz-Count could carry out his heart's desire, and follow -Osric to the Crusades. His wife, Maude of Wallingford, had before -retired into Normandy, weary of strife and turmoil, and taken the veil, -with his consent, in a convent connected with the great monastery of -Bec. - -In the chamber overlooking the south terrace, the river, and the glacis, -once the bower of Maude d'Oyley, sat the young King Henry. He was of -ruddy countenance and well favoured, like David of old. His chest was -broad but his stature short, his manners graceful and dignified. - -Before him stood the lord of the castle. - -"And so thou _wilt_ leave us! For the sake of thy long and great -services to our cause, I would fain have retained thee here." - -"My liege, I wish to atone for a life of violence and bloodshed. I must -save my poor soul." - -"Hast thou sinned more than other men?" - -"I know not, only that I repent me of my life of violence: I have been a -man of blood from my youth, and I go to the tomb of Him Who bled for me -that I may lay my sins there." - -"And who shall succeed thee here?" - -"I care not. I have neither kith nor kin save one--a Knight Templar. A -noble soldier, but, by the rules of his stern order, he is pledged to -poverty, chastity, and obedience." - -"I have heard that the Templars abound in those virtues, but they are a -monastic body, and can hold no property independently of their noble -order; and I have no wish to see Wallingford Castle a fief of theirs." - -"I leave it all to thee, my liege, and only ask permission to say -farewell." - -"God be with thee, since go thou must." - -Brian kissed the royal hand and was gone. - -Once he looked back at the keep of Wallingford Castle from the summit of -Nuffield in the Chilterns, on his road to London _en route_ for the sea. -Ah! what a look was that! - -He never saw it again. - -And when he had gone one of the first acts of the king was to seize as -an "escheat" the Castle and honour of Wallingford which Brian Fitz-Count -and Maude his wife, having entered the religious life, had ceased to -hold. - - ---- - -The sun was setting in the valley between Mount Ebal and Mount -Gerizim--the mountains of blessing and cursing. In the entrance to the -gorge, thirty-four miles from Jerusalem and fifteen south of Samaria, -was the village of El Askar, once called Sychar. - -An ancient well, surmounted by an alcove more than a hundred feet -deep--the gift of Jacob to his son Joseph--was to be seen hard by; and -many pilgrims paused and drank where the Son of God once slaked His -human thirst. - -The rounded mass of Ebal lay to the south-east of the valley, of Gerizim -to the north-west; at the foot of the former lay the village. - -As in that olden time, it yet wanted four months of harvest. The -corn-fields were still green; the foliage of leafy trees afforded -delicious shades, as when He sat weary by that well, old even then. - -Oh what memories of blessing and cursing, of Jacob and Joseph, of Joshua -and Gideon, clung to that sacred spot! But, like stars in the presence -of a sun, their lustre paled at the remembrance that His sacred Feet -trod that hallowed soil. - -In a whitewashed caravansary of El Askar lay a dying penitent,--a -pilgrim returning from Jerusalem, then governed by a Christian king. He -seemed prematurely old,--worn out by the toils of the way and the change -of climate and mode of life. He lacked not worldly wealth, which there, -as elsewhere, commanded attention; yet his feet were blistered and sore, -for he had of choice travelled barefoot to the Holy Sepulchre. - -A military party was passing along the vale, bound from Acre to -Jerusalem, clad in flexible mail from head to foot; armed, for the rules -of their order forbade them ever to lay their arms aside. But over their -armour long monastic mantles of scarlet were worn, with a huge white -cross on the left shoulder. They were of the array of the Knights -Templars. Soldiers, yet monks! of such high renown that scarcely a great -family in Europe but was represented in their ranks. Their diet was -simple, their discipline exact; they shunned no hardship, declined no -combat; they had few ties to life, but were prepared to sacrifice all -for the sake of the holy warfare and the Temple of God. Their homes, -their churches, lacked ornament, and were rigidly simple, as became -their vow of poverty. Never yet had they disgraced their holy calling, -or neglected to bear their white banner into the heart of the foe; so -that the Moslem trembled at the war-cry of the Templars--"God and His -Temple." - -Such were the Templars in their early days. - -The leader of this particular party was a knight in the prime of life, -of noble, prepossessing bearing; who managed his horse as if rider and -steed were one, like the Centaur of old. - -They encamped for the night in the open, hard by the Sacred Well. - -Scarcely were the camp-fires lit, when a villager sought an audience of -the commander, which was at once granted. - -"Noble seigneur," he said, "a Christian pilgrim lies dying at the -caravansary hard by, and craves the consolations of religion. Thou art -both monk and soldier?" - -"I am." - -"And wilt visit the dying man?" - -"At once." - -And only draining a goblet of wine and munching a crust, the leader -followed the guide, retaining his arms, according to rule; first telling -his subordinate in command where he was going. - -On the slopes of the eastern hill stood the caravansary, built in the -form of a hollow square; the courtyard devoted to horses and cattle, -chambers opening all round the inner colonnade, with windows looking -outward upon the country. - -There the Templar was taken to a chamber, where, upon a rude pallet, -was stretched the dying man. - -"Thou art ill, my brother; canst thou converse with me?" - -"God has left me that strength." - -"With what tongue dost thou adore the God of our fathers?" - -"English or French. But who art thou?" - -The dying man raised himself up on his elbows. - -"Osric!" - -"My father!" - -It was indeed Brian Fitz-Count who lay dying on that couch. They -embraced fervently. - -"_Nunc dimittis servum tuum Domine in pace_," he said. "Osric, my son, -is yet alive--I see him: God permits me to see him, to gladden my eyes. -Osric, thou shalt close them; and here shalt thou bury thy father." - -"Tell me, my sire, hast thou long arrived? why have we not met before?" - -"I have been to Jerusalem; I have wept on Calvary; I have prayed at the -Holy Sepulchre; and there I have received the assurance that He has cast -my sins behind my back, and blotted them out, nailing them to His Cross. -I then sought thee, and heard thou wert at Acre, at the commandery of -St. John. I sought thee, but passed thee on the road unwittingly. Then I -retraced my steps; but the malaria, which ever hangs about the ruins of -old cities, has prostrated me. My hours are numbered; but what have I -yet to live for? no, _Nunc dimittis, nunc dimittis, Domine; quia oculi -mei viderunt salutare Tuum_." - -And he sank back as in ecstasy, holding still the hand of his son, and -covering it with kisses. - -The setting sun cast a flood of glory on the vale beneath, on Jacob's -Well. - -Once more the sick man rose on his bed, and gazed on the sacred spot -where once the Redeemer sat, and talked with the woman of Samaria. - -"He sat there, weary, weary, seeking His sheep; and I am one. He has -found me. Oh my God, Thou didst thirst for my soul; let that thirst be -satisfied." - -Then to Osric-- - -"Hast thou not a priest in thy troop, my son?" - -"Our chaplain is with us." - -"Let him bring me the Viaticum. I am starting on my last long journey, I -want my provision for the way." - -The priest arrived; the last rites were administered. - -"Like David of old, I have been a man of blood; like him, I have -repented that I have shed innocent blood," said the sick penitent. - -"And like Nathan, I tell thee, my brother," said the priest, "that the -Lord hath put away thy sin." - -"And my faith accepts the blessed assurance." - -"Osric, my son, let me bless thee before I die; thou dost not know, -canst never know on earth, what thou didst for me." - -"God bless thee too, my father. We shall meet before His throne when -time shall be no more." - - ---- - -He fell back as if exhausted, and for a long time lay speechless. At -last he raised himself on his elbow and looked steadfastly up. - -"Hark! they are calling the roll-call above." - -He listened intently for a moment, then, as if he had heard his own -name, he answered-- - - - "ADSUM." - - -And Brian Fitz-Count was no more. - - -THE END - -_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[31] As the admirers of Captain Hedley Vicars and other military -Christians sanction the combination even now. - - - - -A SELECTION - -FROM THE - -Recent Publications - -OF - -Messrs. RIVINGTON - -_WATERLOO PLACE, PALL MALL -LONDON_ - - -Woodford's Sermons. - -_Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each. 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A Course of Lectures delivered in substance - at St. Peter's, Eaton Square; also at All Saints', Margaret Street. - -By the Rev. George Body, D.D., - -_Canon of Durham_. - -Contents. - -The Leading into Temptation--The Rationale of Temptation--Why we are -Tempted--Safety in Temptation--With Jesus in Temptation--The End of -Temptation. - - -Knox Little's Manchester Sermons. - -_Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -SERMONS PREACHED FOR THE MOST PART IN MANCHESTER. - -By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A., - -_Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross_. - -Contents. - -The Soul instructed by God--The Claim of God upon the Soul--The -Supernatural Powers of the Soul--The Soul in its Inner Life--The Soul in -the World and at the Judgment--The Law of Preparation--The Principle of -Preparation--The Temper of Preparation--The Energy of Preparation--The -Soul's Need and God's Nature--The Martyr of Jesus--The Secret of -Prophetic Power--The Law of Sacrifice--The Comfort of God--The Symbolism -of the Cross--The Beatitude of Mary, the Mother of the Lord. - - -Knox Little's Christian Life. - -_Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d._ - - CHARACTERISTICS AND MOTIVES OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. Ten Sermons - preached in Manchester Cathedral in Lent and Advent 1877. - -By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A., - -_Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross_. - -Contents. - -Christian Work--Christian Advance--Christian Watching--Christian -Battle--Christian Suffering--Christian Joy--For the Love of Man--For the -sake of Jesus--For the Glory of God--The Claims of Christ. - - -Knox Little's Witness of the Passion. - -_Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d._ - -THE WITNESS OF THE PASSION OF OUR MOST HOLY REDEEMER. - -By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A., - -_Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross_. - - -Williams's Devotional Commentary. - -_New Edition. Eight Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each. Sold separately._ - -A DEVOTIONAL COMMENTARY ON THE GOSPEL NARRATIVE. - -By the Rev. Isaac Williams, B.D., - -_Formerly Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford_. - -THOUGHTS ON THE STUDY OF THE HOLY GOSPELS. -A HARMONY OF THE FOUR EVANGELISTS. -OUR LORD'S NATIVITY. -OUR LORD'S MINISTRY (SECOND YEAR). -OUR LORD'S MINISTRY (THIRD YEAR). -THE HOLY WEEK. -OUR LORD'S PASSION. -OUR LORD'S RESURRECTION. - - -Voices of Comfort. - -_New Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -VOICES OF COMFORT. - -Edited by the Rev. Thomas Vincent Fosbery, M.A., - -_Sometime Vicar of St. Giles's, Oxford_. - -This Volume of prose and poetry, original and selected, aims at -revealing the fountains of hope and joy which underlie the griefs and -sorrows of life. It is so divided as to afford readings for a month. The -keynote of each day is given to the title prefixed to it, such as: 'The -Power of the Cross of Christ, Day 6. Conflicts of the Soul, Day 17. The -Communion of Saints, Day 20. The Comforter, Day 22. The Light of Hope, -Day 25. The Coming of Christ, Day 28.' Each day begins with passages of -Holy Scripture. These are followed by articles in prose, which are -succeeded by one or more short prayers. After these are poems or -passages of poetry, and then very brief extracts in prose or verse close -the section. The book is meant to meet, not merely cases of bereavement -or physical suffering, but 'to minister specially to the hidden troubles -of the heart, as they are silently weaving their dark threads into the -web of the seemingly brightest life.' - -_Also a Cheap Edition. Small 8vo. 3s. 6d._ - - -The Star of Childhood. - -_Fourth Edition. Royal 16mo. 2s. 6d._ - -THE STAR OF CHILDHOOD: a First Book of Prayers and Instruction for -Children. - -Compiled by a Priest. - -Edited by the Rev. T. T. Carter, M.A. - -_With Illustrations after Fra Angelico._ - - -The Guide to Heaven. - -_New Edition. 18mo. 1s. 6d.; Cloth limp, 1s._ - -THE GUIDE TO HEAVEN: a Book of Prayers for every Want. 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Walking after the -Spirit--The Barren Fig Tree--Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O -Lord--Feeding the Four Thousand--We are debtors--He that thinketh he -standeth--The Strength of Working Prayer--Elijah's Sacrifice--If thou -hadst known, even thou--Harvest Thanksgiving--Jonadab, the Son of -Rechab--The Transfiguration; Death and Glory--Welcome to Everlasting -Habitations--The Question of the Sadducees. - - -Moberly's Plain Sermons. - -_New Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s._ - -PLAIN SERMONS, PREACHED AT BRIGHSTONE. - -By George Moberly, D.C.L., - -_Late Bishop of Salisbury_. - -Contents. - -Except a man be born again--The Lord with the Doctors--The Draw-Net--I -will lay me down in peace--Ye have not so learned Christ--Trinity -Sunday--My Flesh is Meat indeed--The Corn of Wheat dying and -multiplied--The Seed Corn springing to new life--I am the Way, the -Truth, and the Life--The Ruler of the Sea--Stewards of the Mysteries of -God--Ephphatha--The Widow of Nain--Josiah's discovery of the Law--The -Invisible World: Angels--Prayers, especially Daily Prayers--They all -with one consent began to make excuse--Ascension Day--The Comforter--The -Tokens of the Spirit--Elijah's Warning, Fathers and Children--Thou shalt -see them no more for ever--Baskets full of fragments--Harvest--The -Marriage Supper of the Lamb--The Last Judgment. - - -Luckock's Footprints of the Son of Man. - -_Third Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 12s._ - - FOOTPRINTS OF THE SON OF MAN AS TRACED BY SAINT MARK: being Eighty - Portions for Private Study, Family Reading, and Instructions in - Church. - -By Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D., - -_Canon of Ely; Examining Chaplain to the Bishop of Ely; and Principal of -the Theological College_. - -With an Introduction by the late Bishop of Ely. - - -Goulburn's Thoughts on Personal Religion. - -_New Edition. Small 8vo. 6s. 6d._ - -THOUGHTS ON PERSONAL RELIGION: being a Treatise on the Christian Life in -its two Chief Elements--Devotion and Practice. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -_Also a Cheap Edition, 3s. 6d._ - -_Presentation Edition, elegantly printed on Toned Paper._ - -_Two Vols. Small 8vo. 10s. 6d._ - - -Goulburn's Pursuit of Holiness. - -_Seventh Edition. Small 8vo. 5s._ - - THE PURSUIT OF HOLINESS: a Sequel to 'Thoughts on Personal - Religion,' intended to carry the Reader somewhat farther onward in - the Spiritual Life. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -_Also a Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d._ - - -Goulburn on the Lord's Supper. - -_Sixth Edition. Small 8vo. 6s._ - - A COMMENTARY, Expository and Devotional, on the Order of the - Administration of the Lord's Supper, according to the Use of the - Church of England; to which is added an Appendix on Fasting - Communion, Non-communicating Attendance, Auricular Confession, the - Doctrine of Sacrifice, and the Eucharistic Sacrifice. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -_Also a Cheap Edition, uniform with 'Thoughts on Personal Religion,' and -'The Pursuit of Holiness.' 3s. 6d._ - - -Goulburn's Holy Catholic Church. - -_Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d._ - - THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH: its Divine Ideal, Ministry, and - Institutions. A short Treatise. With a Catechism on each Chapter, - forming a Course of Methodical Instruction on the subject. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -Contents. - -What the Church is, and when and how it was founded--Duty of the Church -towards those who hold to the Apostles' Doctrine, in separation from the -Apostles' fellowship--The Unity of the Church and its Disruption--The -Survey of Zion's towers, bulwarks, and palaces--The Institution of the -Ministry, and its relation to the Church--The Holy Eucharist at its -successive Stages--On the Powers of the Church in Council--The Church -presenting, exhibiting, and defending the Truth--The Church guiding into -and illustrating the Truth--On the Prayer Book as a Commentary on the -Bible--Index. - - -Goulburn's Collects of the Day. - -_Third Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 8s. each. Sold separately._ - - THE COLLECTS OF THE DAY: an Exposition, Critical and Devotional, of - the Collects appointed at the Communion. With Preliminary Essays on - their Structure, Sources, and General Character, and Appendices - containing Expositions of the Discarded Collects of the First - Prayer Book of 1549, and of the Collects of Morning and Evening - Prayer. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -Contents. - -VOLUME I. BOOK I. _Introductory._--On the Excellencies of the -Collects--On the Origin of the word Collect--On the Structure of a -Collect, as illustrated by the Collect in the Burial Service--Of the -Sources of the Collects: Of the Sacramentary of Leo, of the Sacramentary -of Gelasius, of Gregory the Great and his Sacramentary, of the Use of -Sarum, and of S. Osmund its Compiler--On the Collects of Archbishop -Cranmer--Of the Restoration Collects, and of John Cosin, Prince-Bishop -of Durham--Of the Collects, as representing the Genius of the English -Church. BOOK II. Part I.--_The Constant Collect._ Part II.--_Collects -varying with the Ecclesiastical Season_--Advent to Whitsunday. - -VOLUME II. BOOK II. _contd._--Trinity Sunday to All Saints' Day. BOOK -III.--_On the Collects after the Offertory._ APPENDIX A.--_Collects in -the First Reformed Prayer Book of 1549 which were suppressed in -1552_--The Collect for the First Communion on Christmas Day--The Collect -for S. Mary Magdalene's Day (July 22). APPENDIX B.--_Exposition of the -Collects of Morning and Evening Prayer_--The Second at Morning Prayer, -for Peace--The Third at Morning Prayer, for Grace--The Second at Evening -Prayer, for Peace--The Third at Evening Prayer, for Aid against all -Perils. - - -Knox Little's Good Friday Addresses. - -_New Edition. Small 8vo. 2s.; or in Paper Cover, 1s._ - - THE THREE HOURS' AGONY OF OUR BLESSED REDEEMER: being Addresses in - the form of Meditations delivered in S. Alban's Church, Manchester, - on Good Friday 1877. - -By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A., - -_Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross_. - - -Luckock's After Death. - -_Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s._ - - AFTER DEATH. An Examination of the Testimony of Primitive Times - respecting the State of the Faithful Dead, and their relationship - to the Living. - -By Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D., - -_Canon of Ely, etc._ - -Contents. - -PART I.--The Test of Catholicity--The Value of the Testimony of the -Primitive Fathers--The Intermediate State--Change in the Intermediate -State--Prayers for the Dead: Reasons for Our Lord's Silence on the -Subject--The Testimony of Holy Scripture--The Testimony of the -Catacombs--The Testimony of the Early Fathers--The Testimony of the -Primitive Liturgies--Prayers for the Pardon of Sins of Infirmity, and -the Effacement of Sinful Stains--The Inefficacy of Prayer for those who -died in wilful unrepented Sin. - -PART II.--Primitive Testimony to the Intercession of the -Saints--Primitive Testimony to the Invocation of the Saints--The -Trustworthiness of the Patristic Evidence for Invocation tested--The -Primitive Liturgies and the Roman Catacombs--Patristic Opinions on the -Extent of the Knowledge possessed by the Saints--The Testimony of Holy -Scripture upon the same Subject--The Beatific Vision not yet attained by -any of the Saints--Conclusions drawn from the foregoing Testimony. - -SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTERS.--(_a._) Is a fuller Recognition of the Practice -of Praying for the Dead desirable or not?--(_b._) Is it lawful or -desirable to practise Invocation of Saints in any form or not?--Table of -Fathers, Councils, etc.--Passages of Scripture explained or -quoted--General Index. - - -S. Bonaventure's Life of Christ. - -_Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -THE LIFE OF CHRIST. - -By S. Bonaventure. - -Translated and Edited by the Rev. W. H. Hutchings, - -_Rector of Kirkby Misperton, Yorkshire_. - - 'The whole volume is full of gems and rich veins of thought, and - whether as a companion to the preacher or to those who seek food - for their daily meditations, we can scarcely imagine a more - acceptable book.'--_Literary Churchman._ - - -Newman's Selection from Sermons. - -_Third Edition. Crown 8vo._ - - SELECTION, adapted to the Seasons of the Ecclesiastical Year, from - the 'Parochial and Plain Sermons' of JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, B.D., - sometime Vicar of S. Mary's, Oxford. - -Edited by the Rev. W. J. Copeland, B.D., - -_Late Rector of Farnham, Essex_. - -Contents. - -_Advent_:--Self-denial the Test of Religious Earnestness--Divine -Calls--The Ventures of Faith--Watching. _Christmas Day_:--Religious Joy. -_New Year's Sunday_:--The Lapse of Time. _Epiphany_:--Remembrance of -Past Mercies--Equanimity--The Immortality of the Soul--Christian -Manhood--Sincerity and Hypocrisy--Christian Sympathy. -_Septuagesima_:--Present Blessings. _Sexagesima_:--Endurance, the -Christian's Portion. _Quinquagesima_:--Love, the One Thing Needful. -_Lent_:--The Individuality of the Soul--Life the Season of -Repentance--Bodily Suffering--Tears of Christ at the Grave of -Lazarus--Christ's Privations a Meditation for Christians--The Cross of -Christ the Measure of the World. _Good Friday_:--The Crucifixion. -_Easter Day_:--Keeping Fast and Festival. _Easter-Tide_:--Witnesses of -the Resurrection--A Particular Providence as Revealed in the -Gospel--Christ Manifested in Remembrance--The Invisible World--Waiting -for Christ. _Ascension_:--Warfare the Condition of Victory. _Sunday -after Ascension_:--Rising with Christ. _Whitsunday_:--The Weapons of -Saints. _Trinity Sunday_:--The Mysteriousness of our Present Being. -_Sundays after Trinity_:--Holiness Necessary for Future Blessedness--The -Religious Use of Excited Feelings--The Self-wise Inquirer--Scripture a -Record of Human Sorrow--The Danger of Riches--Obedience without Love as -instanced in the Character of Balaam--Moral Consequences of Single -Sins--The Greatness and Littleness of Human Life--Moral Effects of -Communion with God--The Thought of God the Stay of the Soul--The Power -of the Will--The Gospel Palaces--Religion a Weariness to the Natural -Man--The World our Enemy--The Praise of Men--Religion Pleasant to the -Religious--Mental Prayer--Curiosity a Temptation to Sin--Miracles no -Remedy for Unbelief--Jeremiah, a Lesson for the Disappointed--The -Shepherd of our Souls--Doing Glory to God in Pursuits of the World. - - -Jennings' Ecclesia Anglicana. - -_Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -ECCLESIA ANGLICANA. A History of the Church of Christ in England, from -the Earliest to the Present Times. - -By the Rev. Arthur Charles Jennings, M.A., - -_Jesus College, Cambridge, sometime Tyrwhitt Scholar, Crosse Scholar, -Hebrew University Prizeman, Fry Scholar of S. John's College, Carus and -Scholefield Prizeman, and Rector of King's Stanley._ - - -Bickersteth's The Lord's Table. - -_Second Edition. 16mo. 1s.; or Cloth extra, 2s._ - -THE LORD'S TABLE; or, Meditations on the Holy Communion Office in the -Book of Common Prayer. - -By E. H. Bickersteth, D.D., - -_Bishop of Exeter_. - - 'We must draw our review to an end, without using any more of our - own words, except one parting expression of cordial and sincere - thanks to Mr. Bickersteth for this goodly and profitable "Companion - to the Communion Service."'--_Record._ - - -Manuals of Religious Instruction. - -_New and Revised Editions. Small 8vo. 3s. 6d. each. Sold separately._ - -MANUALS OF RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. - -Edited by John Pilkington Norris, D.D., - -_Archdeacon of Bristol and Canon Residentiary of Bristol Cathedral_. - - I. THE CATECHISM AND PRAYER BOOK. - II. THE OLD TESTAMENT. -III. THE NEW TESTAMENT. - - -Aids to the Inner Life. - -_Five Vols. 32mo, Cloth limp, 6d. each; or Cloth extra, 1s. each._ - -_Sold separately._ - -_These Five Volumes, Cloth extra, may be had in a Box, price 7s._ - -_Also an Edition with Red Borders, 2s. each._ - -AIDS TO THE INNER LIFE. - -Edited by the Rev. W. H. Hutchings, M.A., - -_Rector of Kirkby Misperton, Yorkshire_. - -These books form a series of works provided for the use of members of -the English Church. The process of adaptation is not left to the reader, -but has been undertaken with the view of bringing every expression, as -far as possible, into harmony with the Book of Common Prayer and -Anglican Divinity. - - OF THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. In Four Books. 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It - may be hoped that a large circulation will secure from loss those - who have undertaken this scheme for diffusing far and wide such - valuable means of advancing and deepening, after so high a - standard, the spiritual life.'--_Literary Churchman._ - - -Blunt's Theological Dictionary. - -_Second Edition. Imperial 8vo. 42s.; or in half-morocco, 52s. 6d._ - -DICTIONARY OF DOCTRINAL AND HISTORICAL THEOLOGY. - -By Various Writers. - -Edited by the Rev. John Henry Blunt, D.D., - -_Editor of the 'Annotated Book of Common Prayer,' etc., etc._ - - -Norris's Rudiments of Theology. - -_Second Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -RUDIMENTS OF THEOLOGY. A First Book for Students. - -By John Pilkington Norris, D.D., - -_Archdeacon of Bristol, and Canon Residentiary of Bristol Cathedral_. - -Contents. - -PART I.--FUNDAMENTAL DOCTRINES:--The Doctrine of God's Existence--The -Doctrine of the Second Person of the Trinity--The Doctrine of the -Atonement--The Doctrine of the Third Person of the Trinity--The Doctrine -of The Church--The Doctrine of the Sacraments. - -PART II.--THE SOTERIOLOGY OF THE BIBLE:--The Teaching of the Old -Testament--The Teaching of the Four Gospels--The Teaching of S. -Paul--The Teaching of the Epistle to the Hebrews, of S. Peter and S. -John--Soteriology of the Bible (concluded). - -APPENDIX--ILLUSTRATIONS OF PART I. FROM THE EARLY FATHERS:--On the -Evidence of God's Existence--On the Divinity of Christ--On the Doctrine -of the Atonement--On the Procession of the Holy Spirit--On The -Church--On the Doctrine of the Eucharist--Greek and Latin Fathers quoted -or referred to in this volume, in their chronological order--Glossarial -Index. - - -Medd's Bampton Lectures. - -_8vo. 16s._ - - THE ONE MEDIATOR. The Operation of the Son of God in Nature and in - Grace. Eight Lectures delivered before the University of Oxford in - the year 1882, on the Foundation of the late Rev. John Bampton, - M.A., Canon of Salisbury. - -By Peter Goldsmith Medd, M.A., - -_Rector of North Cerney; Hon. Canon of S. Alban's, and Examining -Chaplain to the Bishop; late Rector of Barnes; Formerly Fellow and Tutor -of University College, Oxford_. - - -H. L. Sidney Lear's Christian Biographies. - -_Eight Vols. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each. Sold separately._ - -CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHIES. - -By H. L. 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John Henry Blunt, D.D., - -_Editor of the 'Annotated Bible,' 'Annotated Book of Common Prayer,' -etc., etc._ - - THE HOLY BIBLE. - - THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER. - - CHURCH HISTORY (ANCIENT). - - CHURCH HISTORY (MODERN). - - CHRISTIAN DOCTRINE AND PRACTICE (founded on the Church Catechism). - -Edited by John Pilkington Norris, D.D., - -_Archdeacon of Bristol, and Canon Residentiary of Bristol Cathedral. -Editor of the 'New Testament with Notes,' etc._ - -THE FOUR GOSPELS. - -THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES. - - -Waterloo Place, London. - - - -***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIAN FITZ-COUNT*** - - -******* This file should be named 54583-8.txt or 54583-8.zip ******* - - -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: -http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/4/5/8/54583 - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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D. (Augustine David) Crake</title> - <style type="text/css"> - - p { margin-top: .75em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .75em; - } - - p.bold {text-align: center; font-weight: bold;} - p.bold2 {text-align: center; font-weight: bold; font-size: 150%;} - - h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; - } - h1 span, h2 span { display: block; text-align: center; } - #id1 { font-size: smaller } - - - hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; - } - - hr.smler { - width: 15%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 42.5%; - margin-right: 42.5%; - clear: both; - } - - hr.tiny { - width: 8%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 46%; - margin-right: 46%; - clear: both; - } - - hr.dble { - width: 100%; - margin-top: 0.5em; - margin-bottom: 0.5em; - margin-left: 0%; - margin-right: 0%; - clear: both; - border: 0; - border-top: 6px double #8c8c8c; - } - - hr.full { - width: 100%; - margin-top: 1em; - margin-bottom: 1em; - margin-left: 0%; - margin-right: 0%; - clear: both; - } - - body{margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; - } - - table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; padding: 5px; border-collapse: collapse; border: none; text-align: right;} - - .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ - /* visibility: hidden; */ - position: absolute; - left: 92%; - font-size: smaller; - text-align: right; - text-indent: 0px; - } /* page numbers */ - - .center {text-align: center;} - .smaller {font-size: smaller;} - .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} - .box {max-width: 25em; margin: 1.5em auto; border: 1px black solid; padding: 10px;} - .box2 {max-width: 30em; margin: 1.5em auto;} - .space-above {margin-top: 3em;} - .right {text-align: right;} - .left {text-align: left;} - - .poem {display: inline-block; text-align: left;} - .poem br {display: none;} - .poem .stanza {margin: 1em 0em 1em 0em;} - .poem div {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;} - .poem div.i1 {margin-left: 1em;} - - hr.pg { width: 100%; - margin-top: 3em; - margin-bottom: 0em; - margin-left: auto; - margin-right: auto; - height: 4px; - border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ - border-style: solid; - border-color: #000000; - clear: both; } - </style> -</head> -<body> -<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, Brian Fitz-Count, by A. D. (Augustine David) -Crake</h1> -<p>This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States -and most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no -restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it -under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this -eBook or online at <a -href="http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you are not -located in the United States, you'll have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this ebook.</p> -<p>Title: Brian Fitz-Count</p> -<p> A Story of Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey</p> -<p>Author: A. D. (Augustine David) Crake</p> -<p>Release Date: April 20, 2017 [eBook #54583]</p> -<p>Language: English</p> -<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> -<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIAN FITZ-COUNT***</p> -<p> </p> -<h4>E-text prepared by MWS, Martin Pettit,<br /> - and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> - (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> - from page images generously made available by<br /> - Internet Archive<br /> - (<a href="https://archive.org">https://archive.org</a>)</h4> -<p> </p> -<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> - <tr> - <td valign="top"> - Note: - </td> - <td> - Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - <a href="https://archive.org/details/brianfitzcountst00crak"> - https://archive.org/details/brianfitzcountst00crak</a> - </td> - </tr> -</table> -<p> </p> -<hr class="pg" /> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> -<p> </p> - -<div class="center"><a name="cover.jpg" id="cover.jpg"></a><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="cover" /></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p> - - -<p class="bold2">BRIAN FITZ-COUNT</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p> - -<div class="box"> -<p class="bold">By the same Author.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo.</i> 7<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="center">HISTORY OF THE CHURCH</p> - -<p class="center smaller">UNDER</p> - -<p class="center">THE ROMAN EMPIRE,</p> - -<p class="center smaller">A.D. 30-476.</p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo.</i> 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="center">EDWY THE FAIR,</p> - -<p class="center smaller">OR THE</p> - -<p class="center">FIRST CHRONICLE OF ÆSCENDUNE.</p> - -<p class="center smaller"><span class="smcap">A Tale of the Days of Saint Dunstan.</span></p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo.</i> 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="center">ALFGAR THE DANE,</p> - -<p class="center smaller">OR THE</p> - -<p class="center">SECOND CHRONICLE OF ÆSCENDUNE.</p> - -<p class="center smaller"><span class="smcap">A Tale of the Days of Edmund Ironside.</span></p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo.</i> 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="center">THE RIVAL HEIRS,</p> - -<p class="center smaller">BEING THE</p> - -<p class="center">THIRD AND LAST CHRONICLE OF ÆSCENDUNE.</p> - -<hr class="smler" /> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo.</i> 3<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i></p> - -<p class="center">THE HOUSE OF WALDERNE.</p> - -<p class="center smaller"><span class="smcap">A Tale of the Cloister and the Forest in the</span></p> - -<p class="center smaller"><span class="smcap">Days of the Barons' Wars.</span></p> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p> - -<h1>BRIAN FITZ-COUNT</h1> - -<p class="center">A STORY OF</p> - -<p class="bold">Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey</p> - -<p class="center space-above">BY THE REV.</p> - -<p class="bold">A. D. CRAKE, B.A.</p> - -<p class="center smaller">VICAR OF CHOLSEY, BERKS; AND FELLOW OF THE ROYAL HISTORICAL SOCIETY;<br /> -AUTHOR OF THE 'CHRONICLES OF ÆSCENDUNE,' ETC. ETC.</p> - -<div class="center space-above"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>'Heu miserande puer, siqua fata aspera rumpas,</div> -<div>Tu Marcellus eris.'</div> -<div class="right"><span class="smcap">Virgil</span>: <i>Æneid</i>, vi. 882-3.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p class="center space-above">RIVINGTONS</p> - -<p class="center"><i>WATERLOO PLACE, LONDON</i></p> - -<p class="center">MDCCCLXXXVIII</p> - -<hr /> - -<p class="center"><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span>DEDICATED</p> - -<p class="center">WITH GREAT RESPECT</p> - -<p class="center">TO</p> - -<p class="center">JOHN KIRBY HEDGES, <span class="smcap">Esq.</span>, J.P.</p> - -<p class="center">OF</p> - -<p class="center">WALLINGFORD CASTLE</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p> - -<h2>PREFACE</h2> - -<p>The author has accomplished a desire of many years in writing a story of -Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey. They are the two chief -historical landmarks of a country familiar to him in his boyhood, and -now again his home. The first was the most important stronghold on the -Thames during the calamitous civil war of King Stephen's days. The -second was founded at the commencement of the twelfth century, and was -built with the stones which came from the Bishop's palace in Dorchester, -abandoned when Remigius in 1092 removed the seat of the Bishopric to -Lincoln.</p> - -<p>The tale is all too true to mediæval life in its darker features. The -reader has only to turn to the last pages of the <i>Anglo-Saxon Chronicle</i> -to justify the terrible description of the dungeons of the Castle, and -the sufferings inflicted therein. Brian Fitz-Count was a real personage. -The writer has recorded his dark deeds, but has striven to speak gently -of him, especially of his tardy repentance; his faults were those of -most Norman barons.</p> - -<p>The critic may object that the plot of the story, so far as the secret -of Osric's birth is concerned, is too soon revealed—nay, is clear from -the outset. It was the writer's intention, that the fact should be -patent to the attentive reader, although unknown at the time to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span> -parties most concerned. Many an intricate story is more interesting the -second time of reading than the first, from the fact that the reader, -having the key, can better understand the irony of fate in the tale, and -the hearing of the events upon the situation.</p> - -<p>In painting the religious system of the day, he may be thought by -zealous Protestants too charitable to the Church of our forefathers; for -he has always brought into prominence the evangelical features which, -amidst much superstition, ever existed within her, and which in her -deepest corruption was still <i>the salt</i> which kept society from utter -ruin and degradation. But, as he has said elsewhere, it is a far nobler -thing to seek points of agreement in controversy, and to make the best -of things, than to be gloating over "corruptions" or exaggerating the -faults of our Christian ancestors. At the same time the author must not -be supposed to sympathise with all the opinions and sentiments which, in -consistency with the period, he puts into the mouth of theologians of -the twelfth century.</p> - -<p>There has been no attempt to introduce archaisms in language, save that -the Domesday names of places are sometimes given in place of the modern -ones where it seemed appropriate or interesting to use them. The -speakers spoke either in Anglo-Saxon or Norman-French: the present -diction is simply translation. The original was quite as free from -stiffness, so far as we can judge.</p> - -<p>The roads, the river, the hills, all the details of the scenery have -been familiar to the writer since his youth, and are therefore described -from personal knowledge. The Lazar-House at Byfield yet lingers in -tradition. Driving by the "Pond" one day years ago, the dreary sheet of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span> -water was pointed out as the spot where the lepers once bathed; and the -informant added that to that day the natives shrank from bathing -therein. A strange instance of the long life of oral tradition—which -is, however, paralleled at Bensington, where the author in his youth -found traditions of the battle of the year 777 yet in existence, -although the fight does not find a place, or did not then, in the short -histories read in schools.</p> - -<p>The author dedicates this book, with great respect, to the present owner -of the site and remains of Wallingford Castle, John Kirby Hedges, Esq., -who with great kindness granted him free access to the Castle-grounds at -all times for the purposes of the story; and whose valuable work, <i>The -History of Wallingford</i>, has supplied the topographical details and the -special history of the Castle. For the history of Dorchester Abbey, he -is especially indebted to the notes of his lamented friend, the late -vicar of Dorchester.</p> - -<p class="right">A. D. C.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Christmas 1887.</span></p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xi" id="Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span></p> - -<h2>CONTENTS</h2> - -<table summary="CONTENTS"> - <tr> - <td colspan="2" class="left"><span class="smaller">CHAP.</span></td> - <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>I.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Lord of the Castle</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>II.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Chase</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_8">8</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>III.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Who Struck the Stag?</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_16">16</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">In the Greenwood</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_24">24</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>V.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Cwichelm's Hlawe</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_32">32</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">On the Downs</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_40">40</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Dorchester Abbey</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>VIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Baron and his Prisoners</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_56">56</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>IX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Lepers</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_64">64</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>X.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The New Novice</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_72">72</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Osric's first Ride</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Hermitage</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_87">87</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Osric at Home</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_xii" id="Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span>XIV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Hermitage</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_104">104</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Escape from Oxford Castle</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">After the Escape</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Life at Wallingford Castle</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_141">141</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XVIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Brother Alphege</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_150">150</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XIX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">In the Lowest Depths</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_158">158</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Meinhold and his Pupils</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_170">170</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">A Deathbed Disclosure</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Outlaws</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_189">189</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Pestilence (at Byfield)</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_200">200</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Opening of the Prison House</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_206">206</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXV.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">The Sanctuary</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_216">216</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVI.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Sweet Sister Death</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_226">226</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Frustrated</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_234">234</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXVIII.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">Father and Son</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_244">244</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td>XXIX.</td> - <td class="left"> <span class="smcap">In the Holy Land</span></td> - <td><a href="#Page_257">257</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER I</span> <span class="smaller">THE LORD OF THE CASTLE</span></h2> - -<p>It was the evening of the 30th of September in the year of grace 1139; -the day had been bright and clear, but the moon, arising, was rapidly -overpowering the waning light of the sun.</p> - -<p>Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of Wallingford Castle by marriage with the Lady -Maude (<i>Matildis Domina de Walingfort</i>), the widow of the doughty Baron -Milo Crispin, who died in 1107, without issue—was pacing the ramparts -of his castle, which overlooked the Thames. Stern and stark was this -mediæval baron, and large were his possessions. He was the son of Count -Alain of Brittany<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a>—a nephew of Hamelin de Baladin, of Abergavenny -Castle, from whom he inherited large possessions in Wales: a nephew also -of Brian, lord of a manor in Cornwall, which he also inherited.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Great his houses, lands, and castles,</div> -<div>Written in the Domesday Book."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Furthermore, he was an especial favourite with Henry the First, who -commanded the Lady of Wallingford to marry his minion—according to the -law which placed such widows at the disposal of the crown—he was -present at the consecration of the great abbey of Reading, where amongst -the co-signatories we read "<i>Signum Brientii filii comitis, de -Walingfort</i>:" the seal of Brian Fitz-Count of Wallingford.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p><p>He walked the ramparts on this last evening of September, and gazed -upon his fair castle, or might have done so had his mind been at rest, -but "black care sat on his back."</p> - -<p>Still we will gaze, unimpeded by that sable rider, although we fear he -is not dead yet.</p> - -<p>The town of Wallingford had been utterly destroyed by the Danes in 1006, -as recorded in our former story of <i>Alfgar the Dane</i>. It was soon -afterwards rebuilt, and in the time of Edward the Confessor, was in the -hands of the thane, and shire-reeve (sheriff) Wigod de Wallingford, a -cupbearer of the pious monarch, and one who shared all that saintly -king's Norman proclivities. Hence it is not wonderful that when William -the Conqueror could not cross the Thames at Southwark, owing to the -opposition of the brave men of London town, he led his army along the -southern bank of the great river to Wallingford, where he was assured of -sympathy, and possessed an English partisan. Here Wigod received him in -his hall—a passable structure for those times—which subsequently -formed a part of the castle which the Norman king ordered to be built, -and which became one of the strongest fortresses in the kingdom, and the -key of the midlands.</p> - -<p>The Conqueror was a guest of Wigod for several days, and before he left -he witnessed the marriage of the eldest daughter of his host, the -English maiden Aldith, to a Norman favourite, Robert d'Oyley, whom he -made Lord of Oxford.</p> - -<p>Now the grand-daughter of that Wigod, whom we will not call traitor to -his country—although some might deem him so—in default of male issue, -became the wife of Brian Fitz-Count. The only son of Wigod, who might -have passed on the inheritance to a line of English lords—Tokig of -Wallingford—died in defence of William the Conqueror<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>at the battle -of Archenbrai, waged between the father and his son Robert Courthose.</p> - -<p>To build the new castle,<a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> Robert d'Oyley, who succeeded to the -lordship on the death of Wigod, destroyed eight houses, which furnished -space for the enlargement, and material for the builders. We are not -told whether he made compensation—it is doubtful.</p> - -<p>The castle was built within the ancient walls in the north-east quarter -of the town, occupying a space of some twenty or thirty acres, and its -defence on the eastern side was the Thames.</p> - -<p>Within the precincts rose one of those vast mounds thrown up by -Ethelfleda, lady of the Mercians, and daughter of the great Alfred, a -century and a half earlier. It formed the kernel of the new stronghold, -and surmounted by a lofty tower, commanded a wondrous view of the -country around, from a height of some two hundred feet.</p> - -<p>On the north-east lay the long line of the Chilterns; on the south-west, -the Berkshire downs stretching towards Cwichelm's Hlawe, and the White -Horse Hill; between the two lay the gorge of the Thames, and in the -angle the fertile alluvial plain, chiefly filled at that time by a vast -park or chase, or by forest or marsh land.</p> - -<p>The Chilterns were covered with vast beech forests, the Berkshire downs -were more bare.</p> - -<p>There were three bastions to the north and two on the south; within the -inner dyke or moat on the east was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> "glacis," which sloped abruptly -towards the river: the main entrance, on the west, was approached by a -series of drawbridges, while beneath the tower a heavy portcullis -defended the gateway.</p> - -<p>Upon the keep stood two sentinels, who from the summit of their lofty -tower scrutinised the roads and open country all day long, until they -were relieved by those who watched by night. Beneath them lay the town -with its moat, and earthen rampart in compass a good mile and more, -joining the river at each extremity. Within the compass were eleven -parishes, "well and sufficiently built," with one parish church in each -of them, well constructed, and with chaplains and clerks daily -officiating, so that people had no lack of spiritual provision.</p> - -<p>Beyond, the roads stretched in all directions: the Lower Icknield Street -ran by woody Ewelme along the base of the downs, towards distant -Stokenchurch and Wycombe; while on the opposite side, it ran across the -wild moor land through Aston and Blewbery to the Berkshire downs, where -it joined the upper way again, and continued its course for Devizes. Our -readers will know this road well by and by.</p> - -<p>Another road led towards the hills, called "Ye Kynge's Standynge," where -it ascended the downs, and joining the upper Icknield Street, stretched -across the slopes of Lowbury Hill, the highest point on the eastern -downs, where the remains of a strong Roman tower formed a conspicuous -object at that date. Another road led directly to the west, and to -distant Ffaringdune, along the southern side of the twin hills of -Synodune.</p> - -<p>Now we will cease from description and take up our story.</p> - -<p class="space-above">"Our lord looks ill at ease," said Malebouche, one of the sentinels on -the keep, to Bardulf, his companion.</p> - -<p>"As well he may on this day!"</p> - -<p>"Why on this day?"</p> - -<p>"Dost thou not know that he is childless?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p><p>"I suppose that is the case every day in the year."</p> - -<p>"Ah, thou art fresh from fair Brittany, so I will tell thee the tale, -only breathe it not where our lord can hear of my words, or I shall make -acquaintance with his dog-whip, if not with gyves and fetters. Well, it -chanced that thirteen years agone he burnt an old manor-house over on -the downs near Compton, inhabited by a family of English churls who -would not pay him tribute; the greater part of the household, unable to -escape, perished in the flames, and amongst them, the mother and eldest -child. In a dire rage and fury the father, who escaped, being absent -from home, plotted revenge. Our lord had a son then, a likely lad of -some three summers, and soon afterwards, on this very day, the child was -out with scanty attendance taking the air, for who, thought they, would -dare to injure the heir of the mighty baron, when some marauders made a -swoop from the woods on the little party, slew them all and carried off -the child—at least the body was never found, while those of the -attendants lay all around, male and female."</p> - -<p>"And did not they make due search?"</p> - -<p>"Thou mayst take thy corporal oath of that. They searched every thicket -and fastness, but neither the child nor any concerned in the outrage -were ever found. They hung two or three poor churls and vagrants on -suspicion, but what good could that do; there was no proof, and the -wretches denied all knowledge."</p> - -<p>"Did not they try the 'question,' the '<i>peine forte et dure</i>?'"</p> - -<p>"Indeed they did, but although one poor vagrant died under it, he -revealed nothing, because he had nothing to reveal, I suppose."</p> - -<p>"What ho! warder! dost thou see nought on the roads?" cried a stern, -loud voice which made both start.</p> - -<p>"Nought, my lord."</p> - -<p>"Keep a good look-out; I expect guests."</p> - -<p>And Brian Fitz-Count resumed his walk below—to and fro, communing with -his own moody thoughts.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p><p>An hour had passed away, when the sentinel cried aloud—</p> - -<p>"A party of men approaches along the lower Ickleton Way from the west."</p> - -<p>"How many in number?"</p> - -<p>"About twenty."</p> - -<p>"Where are they?"</p> - -<p>"They cross the moor and have just left the South Moor Town."</p> - -<p>"Canst thou make out their cognisance?"</p> - -<p>"The light doth not serve."</p> - -<p>"Order a troop of horse: I ride to meet them; let the banquet be -prepared."</p> - -<p>In another quarter of an hour a little party dashed over the lowered -drawbridges and out on the western road; meanwhile the great hall was -lighted, and the cooks hurried on the feast.</p> - -<p>In less than another hour the blast of trumpets announced the return of -the Lord of the Castle with his guest. And Brian Fitz-Count rode proudly -into his stronghold: on his right hand rode a tall knight, whose squires -and attendants followed behind with the Wallingford men.</p> - -<p>"Welcome, Sir Milo of Gloucester, to my castle," exclaimed the Lord of -Wallingford, as he clasped the hand of his visitor beneath the entrance -tower.</p> - -<p>"By'r ladye, a fine stronghold this of yours; that tower on the keep -might rival in height the far-famed tower of Babel."</p> - -<p>"We do not hope to scale Heaven, although, forsooth, if the Masses said -daily in Wallingford are steps in the ladder, it will soon be long -enough."</p> - -<p>And they both laughed grimly in a way which did not infer implicit -belief in the power of the Church.</p> - -<p>"The bath, then the board—prepare the bath for our guest."</p> - -<p>So they led him to the bathroom, for the Normans washed themselves, for -which the natives charged them<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> with effeminacy; and there they brought -towels, and perfumed waters, and other luxuries. After which two pages -conducted the guest to the great hall, which was nearly a hundred feet -in length. The high table stood at the one end upon a platform, and -there the Lord of Wallingford seated himself, while upon his left hand -sat the Lady Maude, a lady of middle age, and upon his right a seat of -state was prepared, to which the pages led his visitor.</p> - -<p>Fully two hundred men banqueted in the hall that night, boards on -trestles were distributed all along the length at right angles to the -high table, with space between for the servers to pass, and troops of -boys and lower menials squatted on the rushes, while the men-at-arms sat -at the board.</p> - -<p>A gallery for the musicians projected above the feasters on one side of -the hall, and there a dozen performers with harps and lutes played -warlike songs, the while the company below ate and drank. The music was -rough but seemed to stir the blood as its melody rose and fell.</p> - -<p>And when at last the banquet was ended, a herald commanded silence, and -Brian Fitz-Count addressed the listening throng:</p> - -<p>"My merry men all, our guest here bringeth us news which may change our -festal attire for helm and hauberk, and convert our ploughshares and -pruning-hooks into swords and lances; but nought more of this to-night, -the morrow we hunt the stag, and when we meet here on to-morrow night I -may have welcome news for all merry men who love war and glory better -than slothful ease."</p> - -<p>A loud burst of applause followed the speech, the purport of which they -fully understood, for the long peace had wearied them, and they were all -eager for the strife as the beasts of prey for rapine, so in song and -wassail they spent the evening, while the Baron and his guest withdrew -to take secret council in an inner chamber.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Anglo-Saxon Chronicle.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> William's first wound came from the hand from which a wound -is most bitter. Father and son met face to face in the battle; the -parricidal spear of Robert pierced the hand of his father, an arrow at -the same moment struck the horse on which he rode, and the Conqueror lay -for a moment on the earth expecting death at the hands of his own son. A -loyal Englishman sped to the rescue—Tokig, the son of Wigod of -Wallingford, sprang down and offered his horse to the fallen king—at -that moment the shot of a crossbow gave the gallant thane of Berkshire a -mortal wound, and Tokig gave up his life for his sovereign.—<i>Freeman.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> Leland writes—giving his own observations in the sixteenth -century (temp. Henry VIII.):—"The castle joineth to the north gate of -the town, and hath three dykes, large and deep and well watered; about -each of the two first dykes, as upon the crests of the ground, runneth -an embattled wall now sore in ruin; all the goodly building with the -tower and dungeon be within the three dykes." The dykes or moats were -supplied with water from the <i>Moreton</i> brook.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER II</span> <span class="smaller">THE CHASE</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Hail, smiling morn,</div> -<div>That tips the hills with gold."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The merry sound of horns blowing the <i>reveillée</i> greeted the sleepers as -they awoke, lazily, and saw the morning dawn shining through their -windows of horn, or stretched skin, or through the chinks of their -shutters in the chambers of Wallingford Castle, and in a very short -space of time the brief toilettes were performed, the hunting garb -donned, and the whole precincts swarmed with life, while the clamour of -dogs or of men filled the air.</p> - -<p>Soon the doughty Baron with his commanding voice stilled the tumult, as -he gave his orders for the day; the <i>déjeûner</i> or breakfast of cold -meats, washed down with ale, mead, or wine, was next despatched, a -hunting Mass was said in "St. Nicholas his Chapel"—that is, a Mass -shorn of its due proportions and reduced within the reasonable compass -of a quarter of an hour—and before the hour of Prime (7 <span class="smaller">A.M.</span>) the whole -train issued from the gates, Milo, Sheriff of Gloucester,<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a> riding by -the side of his host.</p> - -<p>It was a bright, bracing morning that First of October, the air keen but -delicious—one of those days when we hardly regret the summer which has -left us and say we like autumn best; every one felt the pulses of life -beat the more healthily, as the hunting train rode up by the side of the -Moreton brook, towards distant Estune or East-town, as Aston was then -called.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p><p>They were now approaching a densely-wooded district, for all that -portion of the "honour" of Wallingford which lay beneath the downs, was -filled with wood and marsh nourished by many slow and half stagnant -streams, or penetrated by swiftly running brooks which still follow the -same general course through the district in its cultivated state.</p> - -<p>At length they reached a wide open moor covered with gorse or heather; -gay and brilliant looked the train as it passed over the spot. The -hunters generally wore a garb familiar to some of us by pictorial -representations, a green hunting tunic girded by a belt with silver -clasps, a hunting knife in the girdle, a horn swung round the shoulder -dependent from the neck; but beneath this gay attire the great men wore -suits of chain mail, so flexible that it did not impede their movements -nor feel half so uncomfortable as some present suits of corduroy would -feel to a modern dandy. There were archers a few, there were also -spearmen who ran well and kept up with the mounted company at a steady -swinging trot, then there were fine-looking dogs of enormous size, and -of wondrous powers of strength and motion. The very thought of it is -enough to make the modern hunter sigh for the "good old times."</p> - -<p>Onward! onward! we fly, the moor is past, the hunting train turns to the -right and follows the course of the brook towards the park of Blidberia -(or Blewbery), the wood gets thicker and thicker; it is a tangled marsh, -and yet a forest; tall trees rise in endless variety, oaks that might -have borne mistletoes for the Druids; huge beeches with spreading -foliage, beneath which Tityrus might have reclined nor complained of -want of shade; willows rooted in water; decaying trunks of trees, -rotting in sullen pools of stagnant mire; yet, a clear, fresh spring -rushes along by the side of the track.</p> - -<p>And at intervals the outline of the Bearroc hills, the Berkshire downs, -rises above the forest, and solemnly in the distance looms the huge -tree-covered barrow, where Cwichelm, the last King of Wessex, sleeps his -long sleep<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> while his subjugated descendants serve their Norman masters -in the country around his hill-tomb.</p> - -<p>And now a gallant stag is roused—a stag of ten branches. He scents the -dogs as the wind blows from them to him, he shakes the dewdrops from his -flanks, he listens one moment to the clamour of the noisy pack of canine -foes, he shakes his head disdainfully, and rushes on his headlong -course. The dogs bark and bay, the horns ring out, the voices of men and -boys, cheering and shouting as they spur their willing steeds, join the -discord. Hark! hark! Halloa! halloa! Whoop! whoop! and onward they fly. -The timid hares and rabbits rush away or seek their burrows. The hawks -and birds of prey fly wildly overhead in puzzled flight, as the wild -huntsmen rush along.</p> - -<p>But now the natural obstacles retard their flight, and the stag gains -the downs first, and speeds over the upper plains. A mile after him, the -hunt emerges just above the tangled maze of Blewbery. Now all is open -ground, and the stag heads for Cwichelm's Hlawe.</p> - -<p>Swiftly they sweep along; the footmen are left far behind. The wind is -blowing hard, and the shadows of fleecy clouds are cast upon the downs, -but the riders outstrip them, and leave the dark outlines behind them. -The leaves blow from many a fading tree, but faster rush the wild -huntsmen, and Brian Fitz-Count rides first.</p> - -<p>They have left the clump on Blewbery down behind: the sacred mound on -which St. Birinus once stood when he first preached the Gospel of Christ -to the old English folk of Wessex, is passed unheeded. When lo! they -cross a lateral valley and the stag stops to gaze, then as if mature -reflection teaches him the wood and tangled marsh are safer for him, -descends again to the lower ground.</p> - -<p>What a disappointment to be checked in such a gallant run, to leave the -springy turf and have again to seek the woods and abate their speed, and -what is worse, when they enter the forest they find all the dogs at -variance of purpose; a fox, their natural enemy, has crossed the track<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> -but recently, and nearly all the pack are after him, while the rest -hesitate and rush wildly about. The huntsmen strive to restore order, -but meanwhile the stag has gained upon his pursuers. The poor hunted -beast, panting as though its heart would break, is safe for a while.</p> - -<p class="space-above">Let us use a tale-teller's privilege and guide the reader to another -scene.</p> - -<p>Not many furlongs from the spot where the hunters stopped perplexed, -stood a lonely cot in a green islet of ground, amidst the mazy windings -of a brook, which sprang from the hills and rising from the ground in -copious streams, inundated the marsh and gave protection to the dwellers -of this primæval habitation.</p> - -<p>It was a large cottage for that period, divided into three rooms, the -outer and larger one for living, the two inner and smaller for -bedchambers. Its construction was simple and not unlike those raised by -the dwellers in the wild parts of the earth now. Larches or pines, about -the thickness of a man's leg, had been cut down, shaped with an axe, -driven into the earth at the intervals of half a yard, willow-twigs had -been twined round them, the interstices had been filled with clay, cross -beams had been laid upon the level summits of the posts, a roof of bark -supported on lighter timber placed upon it, slightly shelving from the -ridge, and the outer fabric was complete. Then the inner partitions had -been made, partly with bark, partly with skins, stretched from post to -post; light doors swung on hinges of leather, small apertures covered -with semitransparent skin formed the windows, and a huge aperture in the -roof over a hearth, whereon rested a portable iron grate, served for -chimney.</p> - -<p>A table, roughly made, stood upon trestles, two or three seats, like -milking-stools, supplied the lack of chairs—such was the furniture of -the living room.</p> - -<p>Over the fire sat the occupants of the house—whom we must particularly -introduce to our readers.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>The first and most conspicuous was an old man, dressed mainly in -vestments of skin, but the one impression he produced upon the beholder -was "fallen greatness." Such a face, such noble features, withered and -wrinkled though they were by age; long masses of white hair, untouched -by barber or scissors, hung down his back, and a white wavy beard -reached almost to his waist.</p> - -<p>By his side, attentive to his every word, sat a youth of about sixteen -summers, and he was also worthy of notice—he seemed to combine the -characteristic features of the two races, Norman and English—we will -not use that misnomer "Saxon," our ancestors never called themselves by -other name than English after the Heptarchy was dissolved. His hair was -dark, his features shapely, but there was that one peculiarity of -feature which always gives a pathetic look to the face—large blue eyes -under dark eyebrows.</p> - -<p>The third person was evidently of lower rank than the others, although -this was not evident from any distinction of dress, for poverty had -obliterated all such tokens, but from the general manner, the look of -servitude, the air of submission which characterised one born of a race -of thralls. In truth she was the sole survivor of a race of hereditary -bondsmen, who had served the ancestors of him whom she now tended with -affectionate fidelity amidst poverty and old age.</p> - -<p>Let us listen to their conversation, and so introduce them to the -reader.</p> - -<p>"And so, grandfather," said the boy in a subdued voice of deep feeling, -"you saw him, your father, depart for the last time—the very last?"</p> - -<p>"I remember, as if it were but yesterday, when my father gathered his -churls and thralls<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a> around him at our house at Kingestun under the -downs to the west: there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> were women and children, whose husbands and -fathers were going with him to join the army of Harold at London; they -were all on foot, for we had few knights in those days, but ere my -father mounted his favourite horse—'Whitefoot'—he lifted me in his -arms and kissed me. I was but five years old, and then he pressed my -mother to his bosom, she gave one sob but strove to stifle it, as the -wife of a warrior should. Then all tried to cry—'Long live Thurkill of -Kingestun.'</p> - -<p>"'Come, my men,' said my father, 'we shall beat these dainty Frenchmen, -as our countrymen have beaten the Danes at Stamford, so the 'bode' here -tells me. We go to fill the places of the gallant dead who fell around -our Harold in the hour of victory—let there be no faint hearts amongst -us, 'tis for home and hearth; good-bye, sweethearts,' and they rode -away.</p> - -<p>"They rode first to the Abbey town (Abingdon), and there made their vows -before the famous 'Black Cross' of that ancient shrine; then all bent -them for the long march to London town, where they arrived in time to -march southward with the hero king, the last English king, and -seventy-three years ago this very month of October the end came; blessed -were the dead who fell that awful day on the heights of Senlac, thrice -blessed—and cursed we who survived, to lose home, hearth, altar, and -all, and to beget a race of slaves."</p> - -<p>"Nay, not slaves, grandfather; thou hast never bent the knee."</p> - -<p>"Had I been ten years older, I had been at Senlac and died by my -father's side."</p> - -<p>"But your mother, you lived to comfort her."</p> - -<p>"Not long; when the news of our father's death came, she bore up for my -sake—but when our patrimony was taken by force, and we who had fought -for our true king were driven from our homes as rebels and traitors, to -herd with the beasts of the field; when our thralls became the bondsmen -of men of foreign tongues and hard hearts—her<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> heart broke, and she -left me alone, after a few months of privation."</p> - -<p>"But you fought against the Norman."</p> - -<p>"I fought by the side of the last Englishman who fought at all, with -Hereward and his brave men at the 'Camp of Refuge'; and spent the prime -of my life a prisoner in the grim castle of the recreant Lords of -Wallingford."</p> - -<p>And he lifted up his eyes, suffused with tears, to heaven.</p> - -<p>"Why do you call the Lords of Wallingford Castle recreant?"</p> - -<p>"Because they were false to their country, in submitting to the Norman -invader. When the Conqueror came to Southwark, the brave men of the city -of London, guarded by their noble river and Roman walls, bade him -defiance. So he came up the south bank of the stream to Wallingford, -where the shire-reeve (the sheriff), Wigod, was ready, like a base -traitor, to receive him. There Wigod sumptuously entertained him, and -the vast mound which told of English victory in earlier days, became the -kernel of a Norman stronghold. The Conqueror gave the daughter of Wigod -in marriage to his particular friend, Robert d'Oyley, of Oxford Castle; -and when men afterwards saw men like Wigod of Wallingford and Edward of -Salisbury glutted with the spoils of Englishmen, better and braver than -themselves, they ate their bread in bitterness of spirit, and praised -the dead more than the living."</p> - -<p>Just then a rustling in the branches attracted their attention.</p> - -<p>"Oh, grandfather, there is a gallant stag! may I go and take him?—it -will replenish our larder for days. We have been so hungry."</p> - -<p>"It is death to kill the Baron's deer."</p> - -<p>"When he can catch us!—that!—for him," and the boy snapped his -fingers.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p><p>"Hist! I hear the sound of hound and horn—be cautious, or we may get -into dire trouble."</p> - -<p>"Trust me, grandfather. Where are my arrows? Oh, here they are. Come, -Bruno."</p> - -<p>And a large wolf-hound bounded forth, eager as his young master.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> Sir Milo was Sheriff of Gloucester, and was afterwards -created Earl of Hereford by the Empress Maude.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> Otherwise ceorls and theowes, tenant farmers and labourers, -the latter, bondsmen, "<i>adscripti glebæ</i>," bought with the land, but who -could not be sold apart from it.</p></div> </div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER III</span> <span class="smaller">WHO STRUCK THE STAG?</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"It was a stag, a stag of ten,</div> -<div>Bearing his branches sturdily."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We left the grandson of the recluse setting forth in quest of the stag.</p> - -<p>Forth he and his dog bounded from the thick covert in which their -cottage was concealed, and emerging from the tall reeds which bordered -the brook, they stood beneath the shade of the mighty beech-trees, whose -trunks upbore the dense foliage, as pillars in the solemn aisles of -cathedrals support the superstructure; for the woods were God's first -temples, and the inhabitants of such regions drew from them the -inspiration from which sprang the various orders of Gothic architecture.</p> - -<p>Here Osric, for such was his name, paused and hid in a thicket of hazel, -for he spied the stag coming down the glade towards him, he restrained -the dog by the leash: and the two lay in ambush.</p> - -<p>The hunted creature, quite unsuspecting any new foes, came down the -glen, bearing his branches loftily, for doubtless he was elate, poor -beast, with the victory which his heels had given him over his human and -canine foes. And now he approached the ambush: the boy had fitted an -arrow to his bow but hesitated, it seemed almost a shame to lay so noble -an animal low; but hunger and want are stern masters, and men must eat -if they would live.</p> - -<p>Just then the creature snuffed the tainted air, an instant, and he would -have escaped; but the bow twanged, and the arrow buried itself in its -side, the stag bounded<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> in the death agony towards the very thicket -whence the fatal dart had come; when Osric met it, and drawing his keen -hunting-knife across its throat, ended its struggles and its life -together.</p> - -<p>He had received a woodland education, and knew what to do; he soon -quartered the stag, whose blood the dog was lapping, and taking one of -the haunches on his shoulders, entered the tangled maze of reeds and -water wherein lay his island-home.</p> - -<p>"Here, grandfather, here is one of the haunches, what a capital fat one -it is! truly it will be a toothsome morsel for thee, and many tender -bits will there be to suit thy aged teeth; come, Judith, come and help -me hang it on the tree; then I will go and fetch the rest, joint by -joint."</p> - -<p>"But stop, Osric, what sound, what noise is that?" and the old man -listened attentively—then added—</p> - -<p>"Huntsmen have driven that stag hitherwards, and are following on its -trail."</p> - -<p>The breeze brought the uproarious baying of dogs and cries of men down -the woods. It was at that moment, that, as stated in our last chapter, -the fox had crossed the track, and baffled them for the moment.</p> - -<p>Alas for poor Osric, only for the moment, for the huntsmen had succeeded -in getting some of the older and wiser hounds to take up the lost trail, -and the scent of their former enemy again greeting their olfactory -organs, they obeyed the new impulse—or rather the old one renewed, and -were off again after the deer.</p> - -<p>And as we see a flock of sheep, stopped by a fence, hesitating where to -go, until one finds a gap and all follow; so the various undecided dogs -agreed that venison was better than carrion, and the stag therefore a -nobler quarry than the fox; so, save a few misguided young puppies, they -resumed the legitimate chase.</p> - -<p>The huntsmen followed as fast as the trees and bushes allowed them, -until, after a mile or two, they all came to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> sudden stand, where the -object of the chase had already met its death at the hands of Osric.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the unhappy youth had heard them drawing nearer and nearer. He -knew that it would be impossible to escape discovery, unless the -intricacies of their retreat should baffle the hunters, whom they heard -drawing nearer and nearer. The dogs, they knew, would not pursue the -chase beyond the place of slaughter. Oh! if they had but time to mangle -it before the men arrived, so that the manner in which it had met its -death might not be discovered—but that was altogether unlikely. And in -truth clamorous human cries mingled with wild vociferous barkings, -howlings, bayings, and other canine clamour, showed that the hunt was -already assembled close by.</p> - -<p>"I will go forth and own the deed: then perhaps they will not inquire -further——"</p> - -<p>"Nay, my son, await God's Will here."</p> - -<p>And the old man restrained the youth.</p> - -<p>At length they heard such words as these—</p> - -<p>"He cannot be far off."</p> - -<p>"He is hidden amongst the reeds."</p> - -<p>"Turn in the dogs."</p> - -<p>"They have tasted blood and are useless."</p> - -<p>"Fire the reeds."</p> - -<p>"Nay, grandfather, I must go, the reeds are dry, they will burn us all -together. They may show me mercy if I own it bravely."</p> - -<p>"Nay, they love their deer too well; they will hang thee on the nearest -beech."</p> - -<p>"Look! they have fired the reeds."</p> - -<p>"It may be our salvation: they cannot penetrate them when burning, and -see, if the smoke stifle us not, the fire will not reach us; there is -too much green and dank vegetation around the brook between us and the -reeds."</p> - -<p>"Ah! the wind blows it the other way; nay, it eddies—see that tongue of -flame darting amongst the dry fuel—now another: that thick smoke—there -it is changed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> flame. Oh, grandfather, let us get off by the other -side—at once—at once."</p> - -<p>"Thou forgettest I am a cripple; but there may be time for you and -Judith to save yourselves."</p> - -<p>"Nay," said Osric, proudly, "we live or die together."</p> - -<p>"Judith will stay with her old master," said the poor thrall, "and with -her young lord too."</p> - -<p>They were yet "lords" in her eyes, bereft although they were of their -once vast possessions.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps we are as safe here; their patience will wear out before they -can penetrate the island. See, they are firing the reeds out yonder. -Normans love a conflagration," said the old man.</p> - -<p>In fact, it was as much with that inherent love of making a blaze, which -had marked the Normans and the Danes from the beginning, when church, -homestead, barn, and stack, were all kindled as the fierce invaders -swept through the land; that the mischievous and vindictive men-at-arms -had fired the reeds, wherein they thought the slayer of the deer had -taken refuge, when they found that the dogs would not enter after him. -There was little fear of any further harm than the clearing of a few -acres. The trees were too damp to burn, or indeed to take much harm from -so hasty and brief a blaze: so they thought, if they thought at all.</p> - -<p>But the season had been dry, the material was as tinder, and the blaze -reached alarming proportions—several wild animals ran out, and were -slain by the bystanders, others were heard squeaking miserably in the -flames; but that little affected the hardened folk of the time, they had -to learn mercy towards men, before the time came to start a society for -the prevention of cruelty to animals.</p> - -<p>"He cannot be there or he would have run out by this time."</p> - -<p>"He has escaped the other side."</p> - -<p>"Nay, Alain and his men have gone round there to look out."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p><p>"But they cannot cross the brook on foot, and even a horse would get -stuck in the mire."</p> - -<p>"They will do their best."</p> - -<p>The three in the cottage saw the flames rise and crackle all round them, -and the dense clouds of smoke were stifling. Osric got water from the -brook and dashed it all over the roof and the more inflammable portions -of their dwelling, lest a spark should kindle them, and worked hard at -his self-imposed task, in the intense heat.</p> - -<p>But the conflagration subsided almost as rapidly as it arose from sheer -want of fuel, and with the cessation of the flames came the renewal of -the danger of discovery.</p> - -<p>Other voices were now heard, one loud and stern as befitted a leader:—</p> - -<p>"What meaneth this? Who hath kindled the reeds without my order?"</p> - -<p>"The deer-slayer lurketh within."</p> - -<p>"What deer-slayer? Who struck the stag?"</p> - -<p>"We know not. It could not have been many minutes before we arrived; the -carcase was still warm."</p> - -<p>"He must be caught; thou shalt not suffer a poacher to live, is the -royal command, and mine too; but did you not set the dogs after him?"</p> - -<p>"They had tasted blood, my lord."</p> - -<p>"But if he were hidden herein, he must have come forth. If the bed of -reeds were properly encircled—it seems to cover some roods of forest."</p> - -<p>"A shame for so fine a beast to be so foully murdered."</p> - -<p>"It was a stag of ten branches."</p> - -<p>"And he gave us good sport."</p> - -<p>"We will hang his slayer in his honour."</p> - -<p>"A fine acorn for a lusty oak."</p> - -<p>"When we catch him."</p> - -<p>"He shall dance on nothing, and we will amuse ourselves by his -grimaces."</p> - -<p>"Nothing more laughable than the face a <i>pendu</i> makes with the rope -round his neck."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p><p>"Has anybody got a rope?"</p> - -<p>"Has anybody found the poacher?"</p> - -<p>A general laugh.</p> - -<p>"Silence, listen."</p> - -<p>A dry old oak which had perhaps seen the Druids, and felt the keen knife -bare its bosom of the hallowed mistletoe, had kindled and fallen; as it -fell sending forth showers upon showers of sparks.</p> - -<p>The fall of the tree opened a sort of vista in the flames, and -revealed——</p> - -<p>"Look," said the Baron, "I see something like the roof of a hut just -beyond the opening the tree has made."</p> - -<p>"I think so too," said Sir Milo of Gloucester.</p> - -<p>"Very well, wait here awhile, my men; these reeds are all burnt, and the -ground will soon cool, then you may go in and see what that hut -contains: reserve them for my judgment. Here, Tristam, here, Raoul, hold -our horses."</p> - -<p>Two sprightly-looking boy pages took the reins, and Brian and Milo, if -we may presume to call them by such familiar appellations, walked -together in the glade.</p> - -<p>Deep were their cogitations, and how much the welfare of England -depended upon them, would hardly be believed by our readers. We would -fain reveal what they said, but only the half can be told.</p> - -<p>"It can be endured no longer!"</p> - -<p>"Soon no one but he will be allowed to build a castle!"</p> - -<p>"But to lay hands upon two anointed prelates."</p> - -<p>"The Bishops of Sarum and Lincoln."</p> - -<p>"Arrested just when they were trusting to his good faith."</p> - -<p>"The one in the king's own ante-chamber, the other in his lodgings -eating his dinner."</p> - -<p>"The Bishop of Ely only escaped by the skin of his teeth."</p> - -<p>"And he, too, was forced to surrender his castle, for the king vowed -that the Bishop of Salisbury should have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> no food until his nephew of -Ely surrendered, and led poor Roger, pale and emaciated, stretching -forth his skinny hands, and entreating his nephew to save him from -starvation, to and fro before the walls, until he gained his ends, and -the castle was yielded."</p> - -<p>"He is not our true king, but a foul usurper."</p> - -<p>"Well, my good cousin, a few hours may bring us news. But, listen; can -our folk have caught the deer-slayers? let us return to them."</p> - -<p>In the absence of their leaders, the men-at-arms, confiding in the -goodness of their boots and leggings, had trodden across the smoking -soil in the direction where their leader had pointed out the roof of a -hut amidst leafy trees, and had quickly discovered their victims, -crossed the brook, and surrounded the house.</p> - -<p>"Come forth, Osric, my son," said the old man, "whatever befalls, let us -not disgrace our ancestry; let nothing become us in life more than the -mode of leaving it, if die we must."</p> - -<p>"But must we die? what have we done?"</p> - -<p>"Broken their tyrannical laws. Judith, open the door."</p> - -<p>A loud shout greeted the appearance of the old man, his beard descending -to his waist, as he issued forth, leading Osric by the hand.</p> - -<p>"What seek ye, Normans? wherefore have ye surrounded my humble home, -whither tyranny has driven me?"</p> - -<p>A loud shout of exultation.</p> - -<p>"The deer—give up the deer—confess thy guilt."</p> - -<p>"Search for it"—"a haunch was gone"—"if in the house, we need no -further trial"—"to the nearest tree."</p> - -<p>The house was rudely entered—but the haunch, which had been removed -from the tree and hidden by Judith, could not be found.</p> - -<p>"Ye have no proof that we have offended."</p> - -<p>They searched a long while in vain, they opened cupboard and chest, but -no haunch appeared.</p> - -<p>"Examine them by torture: try the knotted cord."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p><p>"One should never go out without thumbscrews in this vile country; they -would fit that young poacher's thumbs well."</p> - -<p>Just then the Baron was seen returning from his stroll with his guest.</p> - -<p>"Bring them to the Baron! bring them to the Baron!"</p> - -<p>"And meanwhile fire the house."</p> - -<p>"Nay, not till we have orders; our master is stern and strict."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IV</span> <span class="smaller">IN THE GREENWOOD</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"What shall he have who killed the deer?"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The return of Brian Fitz-Count and his companion from their stroll in -the woods probably saved our aged friend Sexwulf and his grandson from -much rough treatment, for although in the presence of express orders -from their dread lord, the men-at-arms would not attempt aught against -the <i>life</i> of their prisoners, yet they might have offered any violence -and rudeness short of that last extremity, in their desire to possess -proof of the slaughter of the deer.</p> - -<p>Poor beast, the cause of so much strife: it had behoved him to die -amongst the fangs of the hounds, and he had been foully murdered by -arrow and knife! It was not to be endured.</p> - -<p>But no sooner did the Baron return, than the scene was changed.</p> - -<p>"What means this clamour? Shut your mouths, ye hounds! and bring the -deer-slayers before me; one would think Hell had broken loose amongst -you."</p> - -<p>He sat deliberately down on the trunk of a fallen tree, and called Milo -to be his assessor (<i>amicus curiæ</i>), as one might have said.</p> - -<p>A circle was immediately formed, and the old man and boy, their arms -tied behind them, were placed before their judge.</p> - -<p>He looked them sternly in the face, as if he would read their hearts.</p> - -<p>"Whose serfs are ye?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p><p>"We were never in bondage to any man."</p> - -<p>"It is a lie—all Englishmen are in serfdom."</p> - -<p>"Time will deliver them."</p> - -<p>"Do you dare to bandy words with me; if so, a short shrift and a long -halter will suffice: you are within my jurisdiction, and your lives are -as much in my power as those of my hounds."</p> - -<p>This was not said of hot temper, but bred of that cool contempt which -the foreign lords felt for the conquered race with which, nevertheless, -they were destined to amalgamate.</p> - -<p>"Your names?"</p> - -<p>"Sexwulf, son of Thurkill, formerly thane of Kingestun."</p> - -<p>"Whose father fell in the fight at Senlac (Hastings), by the side of the -perjured Harold; and is this thy son? brought up doubtless to be a rebel -like thyself."</p> - -<p>"He is my grandson."</p> - -<p>"And how hast thou lived here, so long unknown, in my woods?"</p> - -<p>"The pathless morass concealed us."</p> - -<p>"And how hast thou lived? I need not ask, on my red deer doubtless."</p> - -<p>"No proof has been found against us," said the old man, speaking with -that meek firmness which seemed to impress his questioner.</p> - -<p>"And now, what hast thou done with the haunch of this deer?"</p> - -<p>"I have not slain one."</p> - -<p>"But the boy may have done so—come, old man, thou lookest like one who -would not lie even to save his neck; now if thou wilt assure me, on the -faith of a Christian, and swear by the black cross of Abingdon that thou -knowest nought of the deer, I will believe thee."</p> - -<p>A pause—but Brian foresaw the result of his appeal.</p> - -<p>"I cannot," said the captive at length; "I did not slay it, yet if, -according to your cruel laws, a man must die for a deer: I refuse not to -die—I am weary of the world."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p><p>"Nay, the father shall not bear the iniquity of the son; that were -contrary to Scripture and to all sound law."</p> - -<p>"Grandfather, thou shalt not die," interrupted the boy; "Baron, it was -I; but must I die for it? we were so hungry."</p> - -<p>"Oh my lord, crush not the young life in the springtime of youth. God -has taken all my children in turn from me, He has deprived me of home -and kin: but He is just. He has left this boy to comfort my old age: -take not away the light of the old man's eyes. See I, who never asked -favour of Norman or foreign lord before, bow my knees to thee; let the -boy live, or if not, let both die together."</p> - -<p>"One life is enough for <i>one</i> deer."</p> - -<p>"Nay, then let me die."</p> - -<p>"Who slew the deer?"</p> - -<p>"I, my lord, and I must die, not my grandfather."</p> - -<p>"It was for me, and I must die, as the primal cause of the deed," said -the old man.</p> - -<p>"By the teeth of St. Peter, I never saw two thralls contending for the -honour of a rope before," said Milo.</p> - -<p>"Nor I, but they have taken the right way to escape. Had they shown -cowardice, I should have felt small pity, but courage and self-devotion -ever find a soft place in my heart; besides, there is something about -this boy which interests me more than I can account for. Old man, tell -the truth, as thou hopest for the life of the boy. Is he really thy -grandson?"</p> - -<p>"He is the son of my daughter, now with the Saints."</p> - -<p>"And who was his sire?"</p> - -<p>"An oppressed Englishman."</p> - -<p>"Doubtless: you all think yourselves oppressed, as my oxen may, because -they are forced to draw the plough, but the boy has the face of men of -better blood, and I should have said there was a cross in the breed: but -hearken! Malebouche, cut their bonds, take a party of six, escort them -to the castle, place them in the third story of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> North Tower, give -them food and drink, but let none have access to them till I return."</p> - -<p>Further colloquy was useless; the Baron spoke like a man whose mind was -made up, and his vassals had no choice but to obey.</p> - -<p>Therefore the party broke up, the rest of the train to seek another -stag, if they could find one, but Brian called the Sheriff of Gloucester -aside.</p> - -<p>They stood in a glade of the forest near a tree blown down by the wind, -where they could see the downs beyond.</p> - -<p>"Dost see that barrow, Sir Milo?"</p> - -<p>"I do."</p> - -<p>"It is called Cwichelm's Hlawe; there an old king of these English was -buried; they say he walks by night."</p> - -<p>"A likely place."</p> - -<p>"Well, I have a curiosity to test the fact, moreover the hill commands a -view unrivalled in extent in our country; I shall ride thither."</p> - -<p>"In search of ghosts and night scenery, the view will be limited in -darkness."</p> - -<p>"But beacon fires will show best in the dark."</p> - -<p>"I comprehend; shall I share thy ride?"</p> - -<p>"Nay, my friend, my mind is ill at rest, I want solitude. Return with -the hunting train and await my arrival at the castle; and the Baron -beckoned to his handsome young page Alain, to lead the horse to him.</p> - -<p>"Well, Alain, what didst thou think of the young Englishman? He -confronted death gallantly enough."</p> - -<p>"He is only half an Englishman; I am sure he has Norman blood, <i>noblesse -oblige</i>," replied the boy, who was a spoiled pet of his stern lord, -stern to others.</p> - -<p>"Well, the old man feared the cord as little."</p> - -<p>"He has not much life left to beg for: one foot in the grave already."</p> - -<p>"How wouldst thou like that boy for a fellow-page?"</p> - -<p>"Not at all, my lord."</p> - -<p>"And why not?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p><p>"Because I would like my companions to be of known lineage and of -gentle blood on both sides."</p> - -<p>"The great Conqueror himself was not."</p> - -<p>"And hence many despised him."</p> - -<p>"They did not dare tell him so."</p> - -<p>"Then they were cowards, my lord; I hope my tongue shall never conceal -what my heart feels."</p> - -<p>"My boy, if thou crowest so loudly, I fear thou wilt have a short life."</p> - -<p>"I can make my hands keep my head, at least against my equals."</p> - -<p>"Art thou sorry I pardoned the lad then?"</p> - -<p>"No, I like not to see the brave suffer; had he been a coward I should -have liked the sport fairly well."</p> - -<p>"Sport?"</p> - -<p>"It is so comical to see deer-stealers dance on nothing, and it serves -them right."</p> - -<p>Now, do not let my readers think young Alain unnatural, he was of his -period; pity had small place, and the low value set on life made boys -and even men often see the ridiculous side of a tragedy, and laugh when -they should have wept: yet courage often touched their sympathies, when -entreaty would have failed.</p> - -<p>But the Lord of Wallingford was in a gentle frame of mind, uncommon in -him: he had not merely been touched by the strife, which of the two -should die, between the ill-assorted pair, but there had been something -in every tone and gesture of the boy which had awakened strange sympathy -in his heart, and the sensation was so unprecedented, that Brian longed -for solitude to analyse it.</p> - -<p>In truth, the prisoners had not been in great danger, for although their -judge was pleased to try their courage, he had not the faintest -intention of proceeding to any extremities with either grandsire or -grandson—not at least after he had heard the voice of the boy.</p> - -<p>The party broke up, the Baron rode on alone towards the heights, the -sheriff, attended by young Alain, returned<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> down the course of the -stream towards the castle. The rest separated into divers bands, some to -hunt for deer or smaller game, so as not to return home with empty -hands, to the great wrath of the cooks and others also. Malebouche with -six archers escorted the prisoners. They rode upon one steed, the boy in -front of his sire.</p> - -<p>"Old man, what is the stripling's name?"</p> - -<p>"Osric."</p> - -<p>"And you will not tell who his sire was?"</p> - -<p>"If I would not tell your dread lord, I am not likely to tell thee."</p> - -<p>"Because I have a <i>guess</i>: a mere suspicion."</p> - -<p>"'Thoughts are free;' it will soon be shown whether it be more."</p> - -<p>"Which wouldst thou soonest be in thy heart, boy, English or Norman?"</p> - -<p>"English," said the boy firmly.</p> - -<p>"Thou preferrest then the deer to the lion?"</p> - -<p>"I prefer to be the oppressed rather than the oppressor."</p> - -<p>"Well, well, each man to his taste, but I would sooner be the wolf who -eats, than the sheep which is eaten; of the two sensations I prefer the -former. Now dost thou see that proud tower soaring into the skies down -the brook? it is the keep of Wallingford Castle. Stronger hold is not in -the Midlands."</p> - -<p>"I have been there before," said old Sexwulf.</p> - -<p>"Not in my time."</p> - -<p class="space-above">Our readers may almost have forgotten the existence of the poor thrall -Judith during the exciting scene we have narrated.</p> - -<p>She loved her masters, young and old, deeply loved them did this -hereditary slave, and her anxiety had been extreme during the period of -their danger: she skipped in and out of the hut, for no one thought her -worth molesting, she peered through the bushes, she acted like a hen -partridge whose young are in danger, and when they bound Osric,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> -actually flew at the men-at-arms, but they thrust her so roughly aside -that she fell; little recked they. An English thrall, were she wife, -mother, or daughter, was naught in their estimation.</p> - -<p>Yet she did not feel the same anxiety in one respect, which Sexwulf -felt. "I can save him yet," she muttered; "they shall never put a rope -around his bonnie neck, not even if I have to betray the secret I have -kept since his infancy."</p> - -<p>So she listened close at hand. Once or twice she seemed on the point of -thrusting herself forward, when the fate of her dear boy seemed to hang -in the balance, but restrained herself.</p> - -<p>"I promised," she said, "I promised, and <i>he</i> will grieve to learn that -I was faithless to my word. The old woman has a soul, aged crone though -she be: and I swore by the black cross of Abingdon. Yet black cross or -white one, I would risk the claws of Satan, sooner than allow the rope -to touch his neck: bad enough that it should encircle his fair wrists."</p> - -<p>When at last the suspense was over, and the grandsire and grandson were -ordered to be taken as prisoners to the castle, she seemed content.</p> - -<p>"I must see him," she said, "and tell him what has chanced: he will know -what to do."</p> - -<p>Just then she heard a voice which startled her.</p> - -<p>"Shall we burn the hut, my lord?"</p> - -<p>A moment of suspense: then came the stern reply.</p> - -<p>"He that doth so shall hang from the nearest oak."</p> - -<p>She chuckled.</p> - -<p>"The spell already works," she said; "I may return to the shelter which -has been mine so long. He will not harm them."</p> - -<p>The time of the separation of the foe had now come; the Baron rode off -to his midnight watch on Cwichelm; Malebouche conducted the two captives -along the road to the distant keep; the others, men and dogs, circulated -right and left in the woods.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p><p>The woods and reeds were still smoking, the atmosphere was dense and -murky, as Judith returned to the hut.</p> - -<p>She sat by the fire which still smoked on the hearth, and rocked herself -to and fro, and as she sat she sang in an old cracked voice—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"They sought my bower one murky night,</div> -<div>They burnt my bower, they slew my knight;</div> -<div>My servants all for life did flee,</div> -<div>And left me in extremitie:</div> -<div>But vengeance yet shall have its way,</div> -<div>When shall the son the sire betray?"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The last line was very enigmatical, like a Delphic response; perhaps our -tale may solve it.</p> - -<p>Then at last she arose, and going to a corner of the hut, opened a chest -filled with poor coarse articles of female attire, such as a slave might -wear, but at the bottom wrapped in musty parchment was something of -greater value.</p> - -<p>It was a ring with a seal, and a few articles of baby attire, a little -red shoe, a small frock, and a lock of maiden's hair.</p> - -<p>She kissed the latter again and again, ere she looked once more at the -ring: it bore a crest upon a stone of opal, and she laughed weirdly.</p> - -<p>The crest was the crest of Brian Fitz-Count.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER V</span> <span class="smaller">CWICHELM'S HLAWE</span></h2> - -<p>It was a wild and lonely spot, eight hundred feet above sea level, the -highest ground of the central downs of Berkshire, looking northward over -a vast expanse of fertile country, as yet but partially tilled, and -mainly covered with forest.</p> - -<p>A tumulus or barrow of huge dimensions arose on the summit, no less than -one hundred and forty yards in circumference, and at that period some -fifty feet in height; it had been raised five hundred years earlier in -the history of the country over the remains of the Saxon King Cwichelm, -son of Cynegils, and grandson of Ceol, who dwelt in the Isle of Ceol—or -Ceolseye—and left his name to Cholsey.</p> - -<p>A wood of firs surrounded the solemn mound, which, however, dominated -them in height; the night wind was sighing dreamily over them, the -heavens were alternately light and dark as the aforesaid wind made rifts -in the cloud canopy and closed them again—ever and anon revealing the -moon wading amidst, or rather beyond, the masses of vapour.</p> - -<p>An aged crone stood on the summit of the mound clad in long flowing -garments of coarse texture, bound around the waist with a girdle of -leather; her hair, white as snow, streamed on the wind. She supported -her strength by an ebony staff chased with Runic figures. Any one who -gazed might perchance have thought her a sorceress, or at least a seer -of old times raised again into life.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span></p><p>"Ah, he comes!"</p> - -<p>Over the swelling ridges of the downs she saw a horseman approaching; -heard before she saw, for the night was murky.</p> - -<p>The horseman dismounted in the wood, tied his horse to a tree, left it -with a huge boar-hound, as a guard, and penetrating the wood, ascended -the mound.</p> - -<p>"Thou art here, mother: the hour is come; it is the first day of the -vine-month, as your sires called it."</p> - -<p>"Yes, the hour is come, the stars do not lie, nor did the mighty dead -deceive me."</p> - -<p>"The dead; call them not, whilst I am here."</p> - -<p>"Dost thou fear them? We must all share their state some day."</p> - -<p>"I would sooner, far sooner, not anticipate the time."</p> - -<p>"Yet thou hast sent many, and must send many more, to join them."</p> - -<p>"It is the fortune of war; I have had Masses said for their souls. It -might have chanced to me."</p> - -<p>"Ha! ha! so thou wouldst not slay soul and body both?"</p> - -<p>"God forbid."</p> - -<p>"Well, once I believed in Priest and Mass—I, whom they call the witch -of 'Cwichelm's Hlawe': now I prefer the gods of war, of storm, and of -death; Woden, Thor, and Teu; nay, even Hela of horrid aspect."</p> - -<p>"Avaunt thee, witch! wouldst worship Satan!"</p> - -<p>"Since God helped me not: listen, Brian Fitz-Count. I, the weird woman -of the haunted barrow, was once a Christian, and a nun."</p> - -<p>"A nun!"</p> - -<p>"Yea, and verily. A few of us had a little cell, a dozen were we in -number, and we lived under the patronage—a poor reed to lean on we -found it—of St. Etheldreda.<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a> Now a stern Norman like thyself came -into those parts after the conquest; he had relations abroad who 'served -God'<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> after another rule; he craved our little home for them; he drove -us out to perish in the coldest winter I remember. The abbess, clinging -to her home and refusing to go, was slain by the sword: two or three -others died of cold; we sought shelter in vain, the distress was -everywhere. I roamed hither—I was born at the village of Hendred -below—my friends were dead and gone, my father had followed Thurkill of -Kingestun, and been killed at Senlac. My mother, in consequence, had -been turned out of doors by the new Norman lord, and none ever learned -what became of her, my sweet mother! my brothers had become outlaws; my -sisters—well, I need tell thee no more. I lost faith in the religion, -in the name of which, and under the sanction of whose chief teacher, the -old man who sits at Rome, the thing had been done. They say I went mad. -I know I came here, and that the dead came and spoke with me, and I -learned mysteries of which Christians dream not, yet which are true for -good or ill."</p> - -<p>"And by their aid thou hast summoned me here, but I marvel thou hast not -perished as a witch amidst fire and faggot."</p> - -<p>"They protect me!"</p> - -<p>"Who are they?"</p> - -<p>"Never mind; that is my secret."</p> - -<p>"Thou didst tell me that if I came to-night I should see the -long-expected signal to arm my merrie men, and do battle for our winsome -ladie."</p> - -<p>"Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war. Well, I told thee truly: the -hour is nigh, wait and watch with me; fix thine eyes on the south."</p> - -<p>Dim and misty the outlines of the hills looked in that uncertain -gloaming; here and there a light gleamed from some peasant's hut, for -the hour of eight had not yet struck, when, according to the curfew law, -light and fire had to be extinguished. But our lone watchers saw them -all disappear at last, and still the light they looked for shone not -forth.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span></p><p>"Why does not the bale-fire blaze?"</p> - -<p>"Baleful shall its influence be."</p> - -<p>"Woman, one more question I have. Thou knowest my family woes, that I -have neither kith nor kin to succeed me, no gallant boy for whom to win -honour: two have I had, but they are dead to the world."</p> - -<p>"The living death of leprosy."</p> - -<p>"And one—not indeed the lawful child of my spouse—was snatched from me -in tender infancy; one whom I destined for my heir: for why should that -bar-sinister which the Conqueror bore sully the poor child. Thou -rememberest?"</p> - -<p>"Thou didst seek me in the hour of thy distress, and I told thee the -child lived."</p> - -<p>"Does it yet live? tell me." And the strong man trembled with eagerness -and emotion as he looked her eagerly in the face.</p> - -<p>"They have not told me; I know not."</p> - -<p>"Methinks I saw him to-day."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"In the person of a peasant lad—the grandson of an old man, who has -lived, unknown, in my forest, and slain my deer."</p> - -<p>"And didst thou hang him, according to thy wont?"</p> - -<p>"No, for he was brave, and something in the boy's look troubled me, and -reminded me of her I once called my 'Aimèe.' She was English, but -Eadgyth was hard to pronounce, so I called her 'Aimèe.'"</p> - -<p>"Were there any marks by which you could identify your boy? Pity such a -race should cease."</p> - -<p>"I remember none. And the grandfather claims the lad as his own. Tell -me, is he mine?"</p> - -<p>"I know not, but there is a way in which thou canst inquire."</p> - -<p>"How?"</p> - -<p>"Hast thou courage?"</p> - -<p>"None ever questioned it and lived."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span></p><p>"But many could face the living, although girt in triple mail, who fear -the dead."</p> - -<p>"I am distracted with hope."</p> - -<p>"And thou canst face the shrouded dead?"</p> - -<p>"I would dare their terrors."</p> - -<p>"Sleep here, then, to-night."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"In a place which I will show thee, ha! ha!"</p> - -<p>"Is it near?"</p> - -<p>"Beneath thy feet."</p> - -<p>"Beneath my feet?"</p> - -<p>"It is the sepulchre of the royal dead."</p> - -<p>"Of Cwichelm?"</p> - -<p>"Even he."</p> - -<p>"May I see it? the bale-fire blazes not, and it is cold waiting here."</p> - -<p>"Come."</p> - -<p>"Lead on, I follow."</p> - -<p>She descended the sloping sides of the mound, he followed. At the base, -amidst nettles and briars, was a rude but massive door. She drew forth a -heavy key and opened it. She passed along a narrow passage undeterred by -a singular earthy odour oppressive to the senses, and the Baron followed -until he stood by her side, in a chamber excavated in the very core of -the huge mound.</p> - -<p>There, in the centre, was a large stone coffin, and within lay a giant -skeleton.</p> - -<p>"It is he, who was king of this land."</p> - -<p>"Cwichelm, son of Ceol, who dwelt in the spot they now call Ceolseye."</p> - -<p>"And the son of the Christian King of Wessex—they mingled Christian and -Pagan rites when they buried him here. See his bow and spear."</p> - -<p>"But who burrowed this passage? Surely they left it not who buried him?"</p> - -<p>"Listen, and your ears shall drink in no lies. Folk said that his royal -ghost protected this spot, and that if the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> heathen Danes came where the -first Christian king lay, guarding the land, even in death, they should -see the sea no more. Now, in the Christmas of the year 1006, aided by a -foul traitor, Edric Streorn, they left the Isle of Wight, where they -were wintering, and travelling swiftly, burst upon the ill-fated, -unwarned folk of this land, on the very day of the Nativity, for Edric -had removed the guardians of the beacon fires.<a name="FNanchor_7_7" id="FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> They burnt Reading; -they burnt Cholsey, with its church and priory; they burned Wallingford; -they slew all they met, and left not man or beast alive whom they could -reach, save a few most unhappy captives, whom they brought here after -they had burned Wallingford, for here they determined to abide as a -daring boast, having heard of the prophecy, and despising it. And here -they revelled after the fashion of fiends for nine days and nights. Each -day they put to death nine miserable captives with the torture of the -Rista Eorn, and so they had their fill of wine and blood. And as they -had heard that treasures were buried with Cwichelm, they excavated this -passage. Folk said that they were seized with an awful dread, which -prevented their touching his bones or further disturbing his repose. At -length they departed, and each year since men have seen the ghosts of -their victims gibbering in the moonlight between Christmas and Twelfth -Day."</p> - -<p>"Hast thou?"</p> - -<p>"Often, but covet not the sight; it freezes the very marrow in the -bones. Only beware that thou imitate not these Danes in their -wickedness."</p> - -<p>"I?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, even thou."</p> - -<p>"Am I a heathen dog?"</p> - -<p>"What thou art I know, what thou wilt become I think I trow. But peace: -wouldst thou invoke the dead king to learn thy future path? I can raise -him."</p> - -<p>Brian Fitz-Count was a brave man, but he shuddered.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p><p>"Another time; besides, mother, the bale-fire may be blazing even now!"</p> - -<p>"Come and see, then. I foresee thou wilt return in time of sore need."</p> - -<p>They reached the summit of the mound. The change to the open air was -most refreshing.</p> - -<p>"Ah! the bale-fire!!"</p> - -<p>Over the rolling wastes, far to the south, arose the mountainous range -now called Highclere. It was but faintly visible in the daytime, and -under the uncertain moonlight, only those familiar with the locality -could recognise its position. The central peak was now tipped with fire, -crowned with a bright flickering spot of light.</p> - -<p>And while they looked, Lowbury caught the blaze, and its beacon fire -glowed in the huge grating which surmounted the tower, whose foundations -may yet be traced. From thence, Synodune took up the tale and told it to -the ancient city of Dorchester, whose monks looked up from cloistered -hall and shuddered. The heights of Nettlebed carried forward the fiery -signal, and blazing like a comet, told the good burgesses of Henley and -Reading that evil days were at hand. The Beacon Hill, above Shirburne -Castle, next told the lord of that baronial pile that he might buckle on -his armour, and six counties saw the blaze on that beacon height. -Faringdon Clump, the home of the Ffaringas of old, next told the news to -the distant Cotswolds and the dwellers around ancient Corinium; and soon -Painswick Beacon passed the tidings over the Severn to the old town of -Gloucester, whence Milo came, and far beyond to the black mountains of -Wales. The White Horse alarmed Wiltshire, and many a lover of peace -shook his head and thought of wife and children, although but few knew -what it all meant, namely, that the Empress Maud, the daughter of the -Beauclerc, had come to claim her father's crown, which Stephen, thinking -it right to realise the prophecy contained in his name,<a name="FNanchor_8_8" id="FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> had put on -his own head.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span></p><p>And from Cwichelm's Hlawe the curious ill-assorted couple we have -portrayed beheld the war beacons' blaze.</p> - -<p>She lost all her self-possession, she became entranced; her hair -streamed behind her in the wind; she stretched out her aged arms to the -south and sang—did that crone of ninety years—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Come hither, fatal cloud of death,</div> -<div>O'er England breathe thy hateful breath;</div> -<div>Breathe o'er castles, churches, towns,</div> -<div>Brood o'er flat plain, and cloud-flecked downs,</div> -<div>Until the streams run red with gore,</div> -<div>From eastern sea to western shore.</div> -<div>Let mercy frighted haste away,</div> -<div>Let peace and love no longer stay,</div> -<div>Let justice outraged swoon away,</div> -<div>But let revenge and bitter hate</div> -<div>Alone control the nation's fate;</div> -<div>Let fell discord the chorus swell,</div> -<div>Let every hold become a hell——</div> -<div>Let——"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>"Nay, nay, mother, enough! Thou ravest. Every hold a hell! not at least -Wallingford Castle!"</p> - -<p>"That worst of all, Brian Fitz-Count. There are possibilities of evil in -thee, which might make Satan laugh! Thy sword shall make women -childless, thy torch light up——"</p> - -<p>"Nay, nay, no more, I must away. My men will go mad when they see these -fires. I must home, to control, advise, direct."</p> - -<p>"Go, and the powers of evil be with thee. Work out thy curse and thy -doom, since so it must be!"</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> See a similar instance in Thierry's <i>Norman Conquest</i>, vol. -i.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_7_7" id="Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> I have told the story of this Danish invasion in <i>Alfgar -the Dane</i>.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_8_8" id="Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> "Stephanus" signifies "a crown."</p></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VI</span> <span class="smaller">ON THE DOWNS</span></h2> - -<p>We fear that Brian Fitz-Count must have sunk in the reader's estimation. -After the perusal of the last chapter, it is difficult to understand how -a doughty warrior and belted knight could so demean himself as to take -an old demented woman into his consultations, and come to her for -guidance.</p> - -<p>Let us briefly review the phases of mind through which he had passed, -and see whether we can find any rational explanation of his condition.</p> - -<p>The one great desire of Brian's life was to have a son to whom he could -bequeath his vast possessions, and his reflected glory. Life was short, -but if he could live, as it were, in the persons of his descendants, it -seemed as if death would be more tolerable. God heard his prayer. He had -two sons, fine lads, by his Countess, and awhile he rejoiced in them, -but the awful scourge of leprosy made its appearance in his halls. For a -long time he would not credit the reality of the infliction, and was -with difficulty restrained from knocking down the physician who first -announced the fact. By degrees the conviction was forced upon him, and -the law of the time—the unwritten law especially—forced him to consign -them to a house of mercy for lepers, situated near Byfield in -Northamptonshire. Poor boys, they wept sore, for they were old enough to -share their father's craving for glory and distinction; but they were -torn away and sent to this living tomb, for in the eyes of all men it -was little better.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span></p><p>Brian wearied Heaven with prayers; he had Masses innumerable said on -their behalf; he gave alms to all the churches of Wallingford for the -poor; he made benefactions to Reading Abbey and the neighbouring -religious houses; he helped to enrich the newly-built church of Cholsey, -built upon the ruins of the edifice the Danes had burnt. But still -Heaven was obdurate, the boys did not recover, and he had to part with -the delight of his eyes.</p> - -<p>And then ensued a sudden collapse of faith. He ceased to pray. God heard -not prayer: perhaps there was no God; and he ceased from his good deeds, -gave no alms, neglected Divine service, and became a sceptic in -heart—secretly, however, for whatever a man might think in his heart in -those days of ecclesiastical power, the doughtiest baron would hesitate -to avow scepticism; men would condone, as, alas, many do now, an -irreligious life, full of deeds of evil, if only the evil-doer -<i>professed</i> to believe in the dominant Creed.</p> - -<p>When a man ceases to believe in God, he generally comes to believe in -the Devil. Men must have a belief of some sort; so in our day, men who -find Christianity too difficult, take to table turning, and like -phenomena, and practise necromancy of a mild description.</p> - -<p>So it was then. Ceasing to believe in God, Brian Fitz-Count believed in -witches.</p> - -<p>The intense hatred of witchcraft, begotten of dread, which kindled the -blazing funeral pyres of myriads of people, both guilty—at least in -intention—and innocent of the black art, had not yet attained its -height.</p> - -<p>Pope Innocent had not yet pronounced his fatal decree. The witch -inquisitors had not yet started on their peregrinations, Hopkins had yet -to be born, and so the poor crazed nun who had done no one any harm, -whom wise men thought mad, and foolish ones inspired, was allowed to -burrow at Cwichelm's Hlawe.</p> - -<p>And many folk resorted to her, to make inquiries about lost property, -lost kinsfolk, the present and the future.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> Amongst others, a seneschal -of Wallingford, who had lost a valuable signet ring belonging to his -lord.</p> - -<p>"On your return to the castle seize by the throat the first man you meet -after you pass the portals. He will have the ring."</p> - -<p>And the first man the seneschal met was a menial employed to sweep and -scour the halls; him without fear he seized by the throat. "Give me the -ring thou hast found," and lo, the affrighted servitor, trembling, drew -it forth and restored it.</p> - -<p>Brian heard of the matter; it penetrated through the castle. He gave -orders to hang the servitor, but the poor wretch took sanctuary in time; -and then he rode over to Cwichelm's Hlawe himself.</p> - -<p>What was his object?</p> - -<p>To inquire after his progeny.</p> - -<p>One son, a beautiful boy, had escaped the fatal curse, but it was not -the child of his wife. Brian had loved a fair English girl, whom he had -wooed rather by violence than love. He carried her away from her home, a -thing too common in those lawless days to excite much comment. She died -in giving birth to a fair boy, and was buried in the adjacent graveyard.</p> - -<p>After he lost his other two children by leprosy, Brian became devoted to -this child; the reader has heard how he lost him.</p> - -<p>And to inquire whether, perchance, the child, whose body had never been -found, yet lived, Brian first rode to Cwichelm's Hlawe.</p> - -<p>"Have I given the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?" was his -bitter cry. "Doth the child yet live?"</p> - -<p>The supposed sorceress, after incantations dire, intended to impress the -mind, replied in the affirmative.</p> - -<p>"But where?"</p> - -<p>"Beware; the day when thou dost regain him it will be the bitterest of -thy life."</p> - -<p>"But where shall he be found?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span></p><p>"That the dead have not told me."</p> - -<p>"But they may tell."</p> - -<p>"I know not, but thou shalt see him again in the flesh. Come again in -the vine-month, when the clouds of war and rapine shall begin to gather -over England once more, and I will tell thee all I shall have learned."</p> - -<p>"The clouds of war and rapine?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, Brian Fitz-Count. Dost thou, the sworn ally of the banished -Empress, mistake my words?"</p> - -<p>And we have seen the result of that last interview—in the second visit.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>When Brian rode from the barrow—out on the open downs—he gazed upon -the beacons which yet blazed, and sometimes shouted with exultation, for -like a war-horse he sniffed the coming battle, and shouted ha! ha! He -gave his horse the reins and galloped along the breezy ridge—following -the Icknield way—his hound behind him.</p> - -<p>And then he saw another horseman approaching from the opposite -direction, just leaving the Blewbery down. In those days when men met it -was as when in a tropical sea, in days happily gone by, sailors saw a -strange sail: the probability was that it was an enemy.</p> - -<p>Still Brian feared not man, neither God nor man, and only loosing his -sword in its sheath, he rode proudly to the <i>rencontre</i>.</p> - -<p>"What ho! stranger! who? and whence?"</p> - -<p>"Thy enemy from the grave, whither thou hast sent my kith and kin."</p> - -<p>"Satan take thee; when did I slay them? If I did, must I send thee to -rejoin them?"</p> - -<p>"Try, and God defend the right. Here on this lonely moor, we meet face -to face. Defend thyself."</p> - -<p>"Ah! I guess who thou art: an outlaw!"</p> - -<p>"One whom thou didst make homeless."</p> - -<p>"Ah! I see, Wulfnoth of Compton. Tell me, thou English boar, what thou -didst with my child."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p><p>"And if I slew him, as thou didst mine, what then?"</p> - -<p>A mighty blow was the reply, and the two drawing their swords, fell to -work—the deadly work.</p> - -<p>And by their sides a canine battle took place, a wolf-hound, which -accompanied the stranger, engaged the boar-hound of the Baron.</p> - -<p>Oh! how they strove; how blow followed blow; how the horses seemed to -join in the conflict, and tried to bite and kick each other with their -rampant fore-feet; how the blades crashed; how thrust, cut, and parry, -succeeded each other.</p> - -<p>But Norman skill prevailed over English strength, and the Englishman -fell prone to the ground, with a frightful wound on the right shoulder, -while his horse galloped round and round in circles.</p> - -<p>And meanwhile the opposite result took place in the struggle between the -quadrupeds: the wolf-hound had slain the boar-hound. Brian would fain -have avenged his favourite, but the victor avoided his pursuit, and bow -and arrows had he none, nor missile of any kind, for he had accidentally -left his hunting spear behind.</p> - -<p>He looked at his foe who lay stretched on the turf, bleeding profusely. -Then dismounting, he asked sternly—</p> - -<p>"Say what thou didst with my boy!"</p> - -<p>"Strike; thou shalt never know."</p> - -<p>And Brian would have struck, but his opponent fell back senseless, and -he could not strike him in that condition: something restrained his -hand.</p> - -<p>"Poor Bruno," he said, as he gave his gallant hound one sigh. "Less -fortunate than thy lord; that mongrel cur hath slain thee: but I may not -stay to waste tears over thee," and remounting, he rode away unscathed -from the struggle, leaving the horse of the vanquished one to roam the -downs.</p> - -<p>And as he rode, his thoughts were again on his lost child, and on the -boy whom he had seen on the previous day, and sent before him in -durance. Was it possible<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> this was his son? Nay, the old man, who would -not lie to save his life, had affirmed the contrary. Still he would make -further inquiries, and keep the lad in sight, if not assured of his -birth and parentage.</p> - -<p>A thought struck him: should he threaten the torture to the aged -Englishman, and so strive to wring the secret—if there were one—from -him. Yet he hesitated, and debated the question with its pros and cons -again and again, until the greater urgency of the coming struggle -extinguished all other thoughts in his mind.</p> - -<p>He had enemies, yes, bitter ones, and now that the dogs of war were -allowed to be unchained, he would strike a blow for himself, as well as -for Maud. Why, there was that hated rival, the Lord of Shirburne, who -boasted that he kept the Key of the Chilterns in his hand—there was his -rival of Donnington Castle over the downs—what splendid opportunities -for plunder, vainglory, and revenge.</p> - -<p>In such meditations did the Lord of Wallingford ride home through the -forest, and adown the Moreton brook.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>Meanwhile his defeated foe, upon whom the victor had scarcely bestowed a -passing thought, lay stiff and stark upon the ground.</p> - -<p>The night wind sang a dirge over him, but no human being was there to -see whether the breath was yet in him. But a canine friend was -there—his poor wolf hound—mangled by the teeth of his foe, but yet -alive and likely to live. And now he came up to the prostrate body of -his master and licked his face, while from time to time he raised his -nose in the air, and uttered a plaintive howl, which floated adown the -wind an appeal for help.</p> - -<p>Was it a prayer for the living or the dead?</p> - -<p>Surely there were the signs of life, the hues of that bloodless cheek -are not yet those of death; see, he stirs! only just a stir, but it -tells of life, and where there is life there is hope.</p> - -<p>But who shall cherish the flickering spark?</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p><p>The aspect of nature seems all merciless. Is there mercy yet in man?</p> - -<p>A faint beating of the heart; a faint pulsation of the wrist—it might -be quickened into life.</p> - -<p>Is it well that he should live?</p> - -<p>A typical Englishman, of Saxon lineage, stout, thickset. Did we believe -in the transmigration of souls, we should say he had been a bull in some -previous state of existence. Vast strength, great endurance, do find -their incarnations in that frame: he might have felled an ox, but yet he -went down before the subtlety of Norman fence.</p> - -<p>Is it good that he should live, an outlaw, whose life any Norman may -take and no questions asked? Look at that arm; it may account for many a -Norman lost in solitary wayfaring. Oh! what memories of wrong sleep -within that insensible brain!</p> - -<p>Happily it is for a wiser power to decide.</p> - -<p>Listen, there is a tinkling of small bells over there in the distance. -It draws nearer; the dog gives a louder howl—now the party is close.</p> - -<p>Five or six horses, a sumpter mule, five or six ecclesiastics in sombre -dress, riding the horses, the hoods drawn back over the heads, the -horses richly caparisoned, little silver bells dependent here and there -from their harness.</p> - -<p>"What have we here, brother Anselm? why doth the dog thus howl?"</p> - -<p>"There hath been a fray, brother Laurentius. Here is a corpse; pray for -his soul."</p> - -<p>"Nay, he yet liveth," said a third, who had alighted. "I feel his heart -beat; he is quite warm. But, oh! Saint Benedict! what a wound, what a -ghastly gash across the shoulder."</p> - -<p>"Raise him on the sumpter mule; we must bear him home and tend him. -Remember the good Samaritan."</p> - -<p>"But first let me bind up the wound as well as I can, and pour in oil -and wine. I will take him before me.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> Sancta Maria! what a weight! No, -good dog, we mean thy master no harm."</p> - -<p>But the dog offered no opposition; he saw his master was in good hands. -He only tried as well as his own wounds would let him to caper for joy.</p> - -<p>"Poor dog, he hath been hurt too. How chanced it? What a mystery."</p> - -<p>Happily the good brothers never travelled without medicinal stores, and -a little ointment modifies pain.</p> - -<p>So in a short time they were on their road again, carrying the wounded -with them.</p> - -<p>They were practical Christians, those monks.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VII</span> <span class="smaller">DORCHESTER ABBEY</span></h2> - -<p>The Abbey of Dorchester stood on the banks of the river Tame, a small -stream arising near the town of the same name, and watering the finest -pasture land of the county of Oxfordshire, until, half a mile below the -Abbey, it falls into the Isis, which thence, strictly speaking, becomes -the Thames (Tamesis).</p> - -<p>This little town of Dorchester is not unknown to fame; it was first a -British town, then a Roman city. Destroyed by the Saxons, it rose from -its ashes to become the Cathedral city of the West Saxons, and the scene -of the baptism of Cynegils, son of Ceol, by the hands of St. Birinus. -The see was transferred to Winchester, but afterwards it became the seat -of the great Mercian bishopric, and as its jurisdiction had once reached -the Channel, so now it extended to the Humber and the Wash.</p> - -<p>Cruelly destroyed by the Danes, it never regained its importance, and on -account of its impoverished state,<a name="FNanchor_9_9" id="FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> the see was again removed by -Remigius, the first Norman Bishop, to Lincoln, in the year 1092. But -although the ancient city was thus deserted, the Bishop strove to make -it some amends. He took care that an abbey should be created at -Dorchester, lest the place should be ruined, or sunk in oblivion; and -some say the Abbey was built with the stones which came from the -Bishop's palace, the site of which is still marked by a farm called -"Bishop's Court."</p> - -<p>But the earlier buildings must have been of small extent,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> for at the -time of our story, Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln, was busy with a more -magnificent structure, and he had already removed into the buildings, as -yet but incomplete, a brotherhood of Black Canons, or Augustinians, -under the rule of Abbot Alured.</p> - -<p>The great church which had been the cathedral—the mother church of the -diocese—had been partially rebuilt in the Norman style,<a name="FNanchor_10_10" id="FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> and around -stood the buildings of the Abbey, west and north of the church.</p> - -<p>In the scriptorium, overlooking the Tame, sat Abbot Alured. The Chapter -Mass, which followed Terce (9 <span class="smaller">A.M.</span>), had been said, and he was busy with -the librarian, arranging his books. Of middle stature, with dark -features, he wore an air of asceticism, tempered by an almost feminine -suavity, and his voice was soft and winning.</p> - -<p>He was the son of a Norman knight by an English wife, who had brought -the aforesaid warrior an ample dowry in lands, for thus did the policy -of the Conqueror attempt the reconciliation of conflicting interests and -the amalgamation of the rival races of conquerors and conquered. For a -long time the pair were childless, until the mother—like Hannah, whose -story she had heard in church—vowed, if God would grant her a child, to -dedicate it to God. Alured was born, and her husband, himself weary of -perpetual fighting and turmoil, allowed her to fulfil her vow. The boy -was educated at Battle Abbey, and taught monastic discipline; sent -thence to Bec, which the fame of Lanfranc and Anselm—both successively -translated to Canterbury—had made the most renowned school of theology -in Northern Europe. There he received the tonsure, and passed through -the usual grades, until, attracting the attention of Bishop Alexander, -during a visit of that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> prelate to Bec, he was selected to be the new -Abbot of Dorchester.</p> - -<p>And now he was in the library, or scriptorium—the chamber he loved best -in his Abbey. What books, forsooth, had he there in those dark ages!</p> - -<p>First there were all the books of the Old Testament in several volumes -and in the Latin tongue; then the New Testament in three volumes; there -were all the works of St. Augustine, in nineteen large tomes, with most -of the books of the other fathers of the Western Church; the lives of -the great monastic Saints, and the martyrology or acts of the Martyrs. -There were books of ecclesiastical history, and treatises on Church -music, with various liturgical works. Of light reading there was none, -but the lives of the Saints and Martyrs furnished the most exciting -reading, wherein fact was unintentionally blended with fiction.</p> - -<p>"What a wonderful mine of wealth we have here in this new martyrology! -Truly, my brethren, here we have the patience and faith of the Saints to -encourage us in our warfare," said the Abbot, opening a huge volume -bound in boar's hide, and glancing round at the scribes, who, pen in -hand and ink-horn at their girdles, with clear sheets of vellum before -them, prepared to write at his dictation.</p> - -<p>"This book was lent us by the Abbot of Abingdon, now six months ago, and -before Advent it must be returned thither—not until every letter has -been duly transcribed into our new folios. Where didst thou leave off -yesterday?"</p> - -<p>"At the 'Acts of St. Artemas.'"</p> - -<p>And the Abbot read, while they wrote down his words: "Artemus was a -Christian boy, who lived at Puteoli, and who was sent, at the -instigation of heathen relations, to the school of one Cathageta, a -heathen. But the little scholar could not hide his faith, although -bidden to do so, lest he should suffer persecution. But what is deep in -the heart comes out of the mouth, and he converted two or three -<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>schoolfellows, so that at the next festival, in honour of Diana, they -omitted to place the customary garlands on her image. This aroused -inquiry, and the young athlete of Christ was discovered. The master, -bidding him renounce his faith in vain, severely scourged him, but the -boy said: 'The more you scourge me the more you whip my religion into -me.' Whereupon Cathageta, turning to the other scholars, said: 'Perhaps -your endeavours will be more successful than mine in wiping out this -disgrace from the school;' and he departed, leaving him to the mercies -of the other boys, who, educated in the atrocities of the arena, stabbed -him to death with their stili or pointed iron pens."<a name="FNanchor_11_11" id="FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a></p> - -<p>"Poor boy," murmured the youngest copyist—himself but a boy—when the -dictation was finished.</p> - -<p>"Nay; glorious Martyr, you mean. He has his reward now. You have heard -me speak of the martyrdom of St. Euthymius; that was a harder one. It -follows here.</p> - -<p>"St. Euthymius was a Bishop of the African Church, who, being taken by -his persecutors, and refusing to offer sacrifice to the idols, was shut -up in a close stone cell with a multitude of mice. A wire, attached to a -bell outside, was placed near his hand, and he was told that if he were -in distress he might ring it, and should obtain immediate assistance; -but that his doing so would be taken as equivalent to a renunciation of -Christ. No bell was heard, and when on the third day they opened the -cell, they found nought but a whitened skeleton and a multitude of -fattened mice."</p> - -<p>Every one drew in his breath, some in admiration, some in horror.</p> - -<p>The young novice had suspended his labours to listen.</p> - -<p>"Benedict, you are neglecting your gradual," said the Abbot. "The music -must be completed for the coming festival of All Saints; it is the chant -of Fescamp—somewhat softer to our ears than the harsher Gregorian -strains.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> Yet many love the latter well; as did the monks of -Glastonbury."</p> - -<p>Here he paused, and waited until he saw they were all open-mouthed for -his story; for such was monastic discipline, that no one ventured to -say: "Tell us the story."</p> - -<p>"Well," he said, "the English monks of Glastonbury had endured much -unmerited severity at the hands of Thurstan, their Norman Abbot, but -they bore all, until he bade them leave off their crude Gregorian -strains, and chant the lays of William of Fescamp. Then they stoutly -refused; and he sent for a troop of men-at-arms. The monks rushed to the -great church and barred themselves in, but the men-at-arms forced a way -into the church, and slew the greater part of the monks with their -arrows. So thick was the storm of piercing shafts, that the image of the -Christ on the rood was stuck full of these sacrilegious missiles."</p> - -<p>"And what became of Thurstan?" asked one of the elder brethren.</p> - -<p>"The king deposed him, as unfit to rule; suggesting that a shepherd -should not flay his sheep."</p> - -<p>"And that was all?" said an indignant young novice, whose features -showed his English blood.</p> - -<p>"Hush! my son Wilfred. Novices must hear—not speak. Speech is silver; -silence is golden."</p> - -<p>At that moment the Prior made his appearance in the doorway.</p> - -<p>"My father Abbot, the brethren have returned from our poor house at -Hermitage, and they bring a wounded man, whom they found on the downs."</p> - -<p>"English or Norman?"</p> - -<p>"The former, I believe, but he has not yet spoken."</p> - -<p>"Send for the almoner and infirmarer. I will come and look at him -myself."</p> - -<p>Leaving the scriptorium, the Abbot traversed the pleasant cloisters, -which were full of boys, learning their lessons under the -superintendence of certain brethren—some declining Latin nouns or -conjugating verbs; some<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> reading the scanty leaves of parchment which -served as lesson books, more frequently repeating passages <i>viva voce</i> -after a master, while seated upon rude forms, or more commonly standing. -So were the cloisters filled—the only schools for miles around. They -looked upon an inner quadrangle of the monastery, with the great church -to the south. Passing through a passage to the west of the nave, the -Abbot reached the gateway of the abbey, somewhere near the site of the -present tower, which is modern. The view to the south from this point -stretched across the Thames to Synodune; nearer at hand rose to left and -right the towers of two parish churches,<a name="FNanchor_12_12" id="FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> the buildings of the town -(or city, as it had hitherto been), poor and straggling as compared with -the ecclesiastical dwellings, lay before them; the embankment of the -Dyke hills then terminated the town in this direction, and beyond rose -the stately clumps of Synodune.</p> - -<p>Inside the porch rested the wayfarers; their beasts had been led to the -stables, and on a sort of hand-bier before them, resting on tressels, -lay the prostrate form of the victim of the prowess of Brian Fitz-Count.</p> - -<p>"Where didst thou find him?" asked the Abbot.</p> - -<p>"Near the spot on the downs where once holy Birinus preached the -Evangel."</p> - -<p>"And this dog?"</p> - -<p>"Was with him, wounded by teeth as the master by sword. It was his moans -and howls which attracted us."</p> - -<p>The Abbot bent over the prostrate form.</p> - -<p>"Has he spoken since you found him?"</p> - -<p>"No, my lord; only moans and gasps."</p> - -<p>"I see he is much hurt; I fear you have only brought him hither to die."</p> - -<p>"Houselled, anointed and annealed?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span></p><p>"If he recover his senses sufficiently."</p> - -<p>Just then a moan, louder than before, made them all start, then followed -a deep, hollow, articulate voice.</p> - -<p>"Where am I?"</p> - -<p>"At the Abbey of Dorchester."</p> - -<p>"Who brought me hither?"</p> - -<p>"Friends."</p> - -<p>He gazed wildly round, then sank with a deep groan back on the bier.</p> - -<p>"Take him to the infirmary, and on the morrow we will see him."</p> - -<p>A chance medley on the downs—a free fight between two who met by -chance—was so common, that the Abbot thought far less of the matter -than we may imagine.</p> - -<p>"Insooth, he is ghastly," he said, "but in the more need of our aid. I -trust we shall save both soul and body. Let the dog also have food and -shelter."</p> - -<p>But the dog would not leave his master's side, and they were forced to -move both into the same cell, where the poor beast kept licking the hand -which dropped pendent from the couch.</p> - -<p>"My lord Abbot, there are weightier matters to consider than the welfare -of one poor wounded wayfarer, who has fallen among thieves."</p> - -<p>"What are they?"</p> - -<p>"Didst thou mark the bale-fire on Synodune last night?"</p> - -<p>"We did, and marvelled what it could mean."</p> - -<p>"They were lighted all over the country: Lowbury, Highclere, White -Horse, Shirburne Beacon—all sent their boding flames heavenward."</p> - -<p>"What does it portend?"</p> - -<p>"There were rumours that Matilda, the Empress Queen, had landed -somewhere in the south."</p> - -<p>"Then we shall have civil war, and every man's hand will be against his -brother, which God forbid. Yet when Stephen seized our worthy Bishop in -his chamber, eating his dinner of pulse and water——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p><p>"Pheasant, washed down with malmsey, more likely," muttered a voice.</p> - -<p>The Abbot heard not, but continued—</p> - -<p>"And shut him in a dungeon—the anointed of the Lord—and half starved -him——"</p> - -<p>"Making him fast for once, in earnest!"</p> - -<p>"Until he should deliver his castles of Newark and Sleaford——"</p> - -<p>"Pretty sheepfolds for a shepherd to keep!"</p> - -<p>"Such a king has little hold of his people; and it may be, God's just -judgments are impending over us. And what shall we do if we cannot save -the poor sheep committed to our charge; for be the one party or the -other victorious, the poor will have to suffer. Therefore, my dear -brethren, after Sext, we will hold a special chapter before we take our -meridiana" (noontide nap, necessitated when there was so much night -rising), "and consider what we had best do. Haste ye, my brother -Ambrose; take thy party to the cellarer, and get some light refreshment. -This is the day when he asks pardon of us all for his little -negligencies, and in return for the Miserere we sing in his name, we get -a better refection than usual. So do not spoil your appetites now. -Haste, and God be with you. The sacristan has gone to toll the bell for -Sext."</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_9_9" id="Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> "Quæ urbs propter parvitatem Remigio displicebat."—<span class="smcap">John of -Brompton.</span></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_10_10" id="Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> It consisted of the present nave, exclusive of the south -aisle, and extended some distance beyond the chancel arch, including the -north aisle as far as the present door. The cloister extended northward, -covering the small meadow which separates the manor-house grounds from -the church. The latter were probably the gardens of the abbey.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_11_11" id="Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> This true story is the foundation of <i>The Victor's -Laurel</i>, a tale of school life in Italy, by the same author.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_12_12" id="Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Leland thus marks their site—three in all besides the -abbey church—one a little by south from the abbey, near the bridge; one -more south above it (nearer the Dyke); and "there was the 3 Paroch -Chirch by south-west" (towards Wittenham).</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER VIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE BARON AND HIS PRISONERS</span></h2> - -<p>When Brian Fitz-Count returned to his castle it was buried in the -silence and obscurity of night; only the sentinels were awake, and as -they heard his password, they hastened to unbar the massive gates, and -to undraw the heavy bolts, and turn the ponderous keys which gave -admittance to his sombre castle.</p> - -<p>The fatigue of a long day had made even the strong man weary, and he -said nought to any man, but sought his inner chamber, threw himself on -his pallet, and there the man of strife slept, for he had the soldier's -faculty of snatching a brief nap in the midst of perplexity and toil.</p> - -<p>In vain did the sentinels look for some key to the meaning of the -bale-fires, which had blazed all round; their lord was silent. "The -smiling morn tipped the hills with gold," and the <i>reveillée</i> blew loud -and long; the busy tide of life began to flow within the walls; men -buckled on their armour, to try if every rivet were tight; tried the -edge of their swords, tested the points of their lances; ascended the -towers and looked all round for signs of a foe; discussed, wondered, -argued, quarrelled of course, but all without much result, until, at the -hour of <i>déjeûner</i> (or breakfast), their dread lord appeared, and took -his usual place at the head of the table in the great hall.</p> - -<p>The meal—a substantial one of flesh, fish, and fowl, washed down by -ale, mead and wine—was eaten amid the subdued murmur of many voices, -and not till it was ended,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> and the Chaplain had returned thanks—for -such forms did Brian, for policy's sake, if for no better motive, always -observe—than he rose up to his full height and spoke—</p> - -<p>"Knights and pages, men-at-arms all! I have good news for you! The -Empress—our rightful Queen—has landed in Sussex, and this very day I -go to meet her, and to aid in expelling the fell usurper Stephen. Who -will follow in my train?"</p> - -<p>Every hand was upraised, amidst a clamour of voices and cheers, for they -sniffed the battle afar, like the war-horse in Job, and delighted like -the vulture in the scent of blood.</p> - -<p>"It is well. I would sooner have ten free-hearted volunteers than a -hundred lagging retainers, grudgingly fulfilling their feudal -obligations. Let every man see to his horse, armour, sword, shield, and -lance, and at noontide we will depart."</p> - -<p>"At what time," asked the Chaplain, "shall we have the special Mass -said, to evoke God's blessing on our efforts to dethrone the tyrant, who -has dared to imprison our noble Bishop, Alexander?"</p> - -<p>"By all means a Mass, it will sharpen our swords: say at nine—a hunting -Mass, you know." (That is, a Mass reduced to the shortest proportions -the canons allowed.)</p> - -<p>When the household had dispersed, all save the chief officers who waited -to receive their lord's orders about the various matters committed -severally to their charge, Brian called one of them aside.</p> - -<p>"Malebouche, bid Coupe-gorge, the doomster, be ready with his minions in -the torture-chamber, and take thither the old man whom we caught in the -woods yestere'en. I will be present myself, and give orders what is to -be done, in half an hour."</p> - -<p>Malebouche departed on the errand, and Brian hastened to accomplish -various necessary tasks, ere the time to which he looked forward with -some interest arrived. It came at last, and he descended a circular -stone staircase<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> in the interior of the north-west tower, which seemed -to lead into the bowels of the earth.</p> - -<p>Rather into a vaulted chamber, curiously furnished with divers chains -and pulleys, and hooks, and pincers, and other quaint instruments of -mediæval cruelty. In one corner hung a thick curtain, which concealed -all behind from view.</p> - -<p>In the centre there was a heavy wooden table, and at the head a massive -rude chair, wherein the Baron seated himself.</p> - -<p>Before the table stood the prisoner—the aged Sexwulf—still preserving -his composure, and gazing with serene eye upon the fierce Baron—the -ruthless judge, in whose hands was his fate.</p> - -<p>Two lamps suspended from the roof shed a lurid light upon the scene.</p> - -<p>"Sexwulf, son of Thurkill, hearken, and thou, Malebouche, retire up the -stairs, and wait my orders on the landing above."</p> - -<p>"My lord, the tormentor is behind the curtain," whispered Malebouche, as -he departed.</p> - -<p>Brian nodded assent, but did not think fit to order the departure of the -doomster, whose horrible office made him familiar with too many secrets, -wrung from the miserable victims of his art, and who was, like a -confessor, pledged to inviolable secrecy. A grim confessor he!</p> - -<p>"Now, old man," said the Baron, "I am averse to wring the truth from the -stammering lips of age. Answer me, without concealment, the truth—the -whole truth!"</p> - -<p>"I have nought to conceal."</p> - -<p>"Whose son is the boy I found in thy care?"</p> - -<p>"My daughter's son."</p> - -<p>"Who was his father?"</p> - -<p>"Wulfnoth of Compton."</p> - -<p>"Now thou liest; his features proclaim him Norman."</p> - -<p>"He has no Norman blood."</p> - -<p>"And thou dost persist in this story?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p><p>"I have none other to tell."</p> - -<p>"Then I must make the tormentor find thee speech. What ho! Coupe-gorge!"</p> - -<p>The curtain was drawn back with a clang, and revealed the rack and a -brasier, containing pincers heated to a gray heat, and a man in leathern -jerkin with a pendent mask of black leather, with two holes cut therein -for the eyes, and two assistants similarly attired—one a black man, or -very swarthy Moor.</p> - -<p>The old man did not turn his head.</p> - -<p>"Look," said Brian.</p> - -<p>"Why should I look? I have told thee the very truth; I have nought to -alter in my story. If thou dost in thy cruelty misuse the power which -God has given thee, and rend me limb from limb, I shall soon be beyond -thy cruelty. But I can tell thee nought."</p> - -<p>"We will see," said Brian. "Place him on the rack!"</p> - -<p>"It needs not force," said the aged Englishman. "I will walk to thy bed -of pain," and he turned to do so.</p> - -<p>Again this calm courage turned Brian.</p> - -<p>"Man," he said, "thou wouldst not lie before to save thy life; nor now, -I am convinced, to save thy quivering flesh, if it does quiver. Tell me -what thou hast to tell, without being forced to do so."</p> - -<p>"I will. Thou didst once burn a house at Compton—the house of -Wulfnoth."</p> - -<p>"I remember it too well. The churl would not pay me tribute."</p> - -<p>"Tribute to whom tribute is due," muttered the aged one; then, aloud, -"One child escaped the flames, in which my daughter and her other poor -children perished. A few days afterwards the father, who had escaped, -brought me this child and bade me rear it, in ignorance of the fate of -kith and kin, while he entered upon the life of a hunted but destroying -wolf, slaying Normans."</p> - -<p>"And he said the boy was his own?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p><p>"And why should he not be? He has my poor daughter's features in some -measure, I have thought."</p> - -<p>"She must have been lovely, then," thought Brian, but only said—</p> - -<p>"Tormentor, throw aside thy implements; they are for cowards. Old man, -ere thou ascend the stairs, know that thy life depends upon thy -grandson. Canst thou spare him to me?"</p> - -<p>"Have I any choice?"</p> - -<p>"Nay. But wilt thou bid him enter my service, and perchance win his -spurs?"</p> - -<p>"Not for worlds."</p> - -<p>"Why refuse so great an opening to fame?"</p> - -<p>"I would sooner far follow him to his grave! Thou wouldst destroy the -soul."</p> - -<p>"Fool! has he a soul? Have I or you got one? What is it? I do not know." -Then he repressed these dangerous words—dangerous to himself, even in -his stronghold.</p> - -<p>"Malebouche!"</p> - -<p>Malebouche appeared.</p> - -<p>"Take the grandsire away. Bring hither the boy."</p> - -<p>He waited in a state of intense but subdued feeling.</p> - -<p>The boy appeared at last—pale, not quite so free from apprehension as -his grandsire: how could any one expect a real boy, unless he were a -phenomenon, to enter a torture chamber as a prisoner without emotion? -What are all the switchings, birchings, and canings modern boys have -borne, compared with rack, pincer, and thumbscrew—to the hideous -sachentage, the scorching iron? The very enumeration makes the hair rise -in these days; only they are but a memory from the grim bad past now.</p> - -<p>"Osric, whose son art thou?"</p> - -<p>"The son of Wulfnoth."</p> - -<p>"And who was thy mother?"</p> - -<p>The boy flushed.</p> - -<p>"I know not—save that she is dead."</p> - -<p>"Does thy father live?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p><p>"I know not."</p> - -<p>"Art thou English or Norman?"</p> - -<p>"English."</p> - -<p>"Thou art not telling the truth."</p> - -<p>"Not the truth!" cried the boy, evidently surprised.</p> - -<p>"No, and I must force it from thee."</p> - -<p>"Force it from me!" stammered the poor lad.</p> - -<p>"Look!"</p> - -<p>Again the curtain opened, and the grisly sight met the eyes of Osric. He -winced, then seemed to make a great effort at self-control, and at last -spoke with tolerable calmness—</p> - -<p>"My lord, I have nought to tell if thou pull me in pieces. What should I -hide, and why? I have done thee no harm; why shouldst thou wish to -torture me—a poor helpless boy, who never harmed thee?"</p> - -<p>The Baron gazed at him with a strange expression.</p> - -<p>"Thou knowest thou art in my hands, to do as I please with thee."</p> - -<p>"But God will protect or avenge me."</p> - -<p>"And this is all thou hast to say? Dost thou not fear the rack, the -flame?"</p> - -<p>"Who can help fearing it?"</p> - -<p>"Wouldst thou lie to escape it?"</p> - -<p>"No, God helping me. That is, I would do my best."</p> - -<p>The Baron drew a long breath. There was something in the youth which -fascinated him. He loved to hear him speak; he revelled in the tones of -his voice; he even liked to see the contest between his natural courage -and truthfulness and the sense of fear. But he could protract it no -longer, because it pained while it pleased.</p> - -<p>"Boy, wilt thou enter my service?"</p> - -<p>"I belong to my grandsire."</p> - -<p>"Wouldst thou not wish to be a knight?"</p> - -<p>"Nay, unless I could be a true knight."</p> - -<p>"What is that?"</p> - -<p>"One who keeps his vow to succour the oppressed, and never draw sword -save in the cause of God and right."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span></p><p>Again the Baron winced.</p> - -<p>"Wilt thou be my page?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>Brian looked at him fixedly.</p> - -<p>"Thou must!"</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Thy life is forfeit to the laws; it is the only avenue of escape."</p> - -<p>"Then must I die."</p> - -<p>"Wouldst thou sooner die than follow me?"</p> - -<p>"I think so; I do not quite know."</p> - -<p>"And thy grandsire, too? Ye are both deer-stealers, and I have hanged -many such."</p> - -<p>"Oh, not my grandsire—not my poor grandfather!" and the boy knelt down, -and raised his hands joined in supplication. "Hang me, if thou wilt, but -spare him."</p> - -<p>"My boy, neither shalt hang, if thou wilt but hear me—be my page, and -he shall be free to return to his hut, with permission to kill one deer -per month, and smaller game as he pleases."</p> - -<p>"And if I will not promise?"</p> - -<p>"Thou must rot in a dungeon till my return, when I will promise thou -wilt be glad to get out at any price, and <i>he</i> must hang to-day—and -thou wilt know thou art his executioner."</p> - -<p>The boy yielded.</p> - -<p>"I <i>must</i> give way. Oh! must I be thy page?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, foolish boy—a good thing for thee, too."</p> - -<p>"If I must, I will—but only to save his life. God forgive me!"</p> - -<p>"God forgive thee? For what?"</p> - -<p>"For becoming a Norman!"</p> - -<p>"Malebouche!" called Brian.</p> - -<p>The seneschal descended.</p> - -<p>"Take this youth to the wardrobe, and fit him with a page's suit; he -rides with me to-day. Feed the old man, and set him free."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p><p>He sent for Alain, the chief and leader amongst his pages—a sort of -cock of the walk.</p> - -<p>"Alain, that English boy we found in the woods rides with us to-day. -Mark me, neither tease, nor bully him thyself, nor allow thy fellows to -do so. Thou knowest that I will be obeyed."</p> - -<p>"My lord," said the lad, "I will do my best. What is the name of our new -companion?"</p> - -<p>"'Fitz-urse'—that is enough."</p> - -<p>"I should say Fitz-daim," muttered the youngster, as soon as he was outside.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER IX</span> <span class="smaller">THE LEPERS</span></h2> - -<p>The scene was the bank of a large desolate pond or small lake in -Northamptonshire. It was on high table-land, for the distant country -might be seen through openings in the pine-trees on every side: here and -there a church tower, here and there a castle or embattled dwelling; -here and there a poverty-stricken assemblage of huts, clustering -together for protection. In the south extended the valley of the -Cherwell, towards the distant Thames; on the west the high table-land of -North Oxfordshire sank down into the valley of the Avon and Severn.</p> - -<p>It was a cold windy autumnal morning, the ground yet crisp from an early -frost, the leaves hung shivering on the trees, waiting for the first -bleak blast of the winter wind to fetch them down to rot with their -fellows.</p> - -<p>On the edge of a pond stood two youths of some fifteen and thirteen -years. They had divested themselves of their upper garments—thick warm -tunics—and gazed into the water, here deep, dark, and slimy. There was -a look of fixed resolution, combined with hopeless despair, in their -faces, which marked the would-be suicides.</p> - -<p>They raised their pale faces, their eyes swollen with tears, to heaven.</p> - -<p>"O God," said the elder one, "and ye, ye Saints—if Saints there -be—take the life I can bear no longer: better trust to your mercies -than those of man—better Purgatory, nay, Hell, than earth. Come, -Richard, the rope!"</p> - -<p>The younger one was pale as death, but as resolved as<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> the elder. He -took up a rope, which he had thrown upon the grass, and gave it -mechanically, with hands that yet trembled, to his brother.</p> - -<p>"One kiss, Evroult—the last!"</p> - -<p>They embraced each other fervently.</p> - -<p>"Let us commend ourselves to God; He will not be hard upon us, if He is -as good as the Chaplain says—He knows it all."</p> - -<p>And they wound the rope around them, so as to bind both together.</p> - -<p>"We shall not be able to change our minds, even if the water be cold, -and drowning hard."</p> - -<p>The younger shivered, but did not falter in his resolution. What mental -suffering he must have gone through; for the young naturally cling to -life.</p> - -<p>But the dread secret was all too visible.</p> - -<p>From the younger boy two fingers had fallen off—rotted away with the -disease. The elder had a covering over the cheek, a patch, for the -leprosy had eaten through it. There was none of the spring and gladness -of childhood or youth in either; they carried the tokens of decay with -them. They had the sentence of physical death in themselves.</p> - -<p>Now they stood tottering on the brink. The wind sighed hoarsely around -them; a raven gave an ominous croak-croak, and flew flapping in the air. -One moment—and they leapt together.</p> - -<p>There was a great splash.</p> - -<p>Was all over?</p> - -<p>No; one had seen them, and had guessed their intent, and now arrived -panting and breathless on the brink, with a long rope, terminated by a -large iron hook, in his hand. Behind him came a second individual in a -black cassock, but he had girded up his loins to run the better.</p> - -<p>The man threw the rope just as the bodies rose to the surface—it missed -and they disappeared once more. He watched—a moment of suspense—again -they rose; he threw once more. Would the hook catch? Yes; it is -entangled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> in the cord with which they have bound themselves, and they -are saved! It is an easy task now to draw them to the land.</p> - -<p>"My children! my children!" said the Chaplain, "why have ye attempted -self-murder; to rush unsummoned into the presence of your Judge? Had we -not been here ye had gone straight to eternal misery."</p> - -<p>The boys struggled on the shore, but the taste of the cold water had -tamed them. The sense of suffocation was yet upon them; they could not -speak, but their immersion was too brief to have done them much harm, -and after a few minutes they were able to walk. No other words were -said, and their rescuers led them towards a low building of stone.</p> - -<p>It was a building of great extent—a quadrangle enclosing half an acre, -with an inner cloister running all round. In the centre rose a simple -chapel of stern Norman architecture; opening upon the cloister were -alternate doors and unglazed windows, generally closed by shutters, in -the centre of which was a thin plate of horn, so that when the weather -necessitated their use, the interiors might not be quite destitute of -light. On one side of the square was the dining-hall, on the other the -common room; these had rude cavernous chimneys, and fires were kindled -on the hearths; there was no upper story. In each of the smaller -chambers was a central table and three or four rough wooden bedsteads.</p> - -<p>In the cloisters were scores of hapless beings, men and boys, some -lounging about, some engaged in games now long forgotten; some talking -and gesticulating loudly. All races which were found in England had -their representatives—the Norman, the Saxon, the Celt.</p> - -<p>It was the recreation hour, for they were not left in idleness through -the day; the community was mainly self-supporting. Men wrought at their -own trades, made their own clothes and shoes, baked their own bread, -brewed their own beer, worked in the fields and gardens within<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> the -outer enclosure. The charity of the outside world did the rest, upon -condition that the lepers never strayed beyond their precincts to infect -the outer world of health.</p> - -<p>The Chaplain, himself also enclosed, belonged to an order of brethren -who had devoted themselves to this special work throughout Europe—they -nearly always took the disease.<a name="FNanchor_13_13" id="FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> Father Ambrose quite understood, -when he entered upon his self-imposed task, that he would probably die -of the disease himself, but neither priests, physicians, nor sisters -were ever wanting to fulfil the law of Christ in ministering to their -suffering brethren, remembering His words: "Inasmuch as ye have done it -to the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me."</p> - -<p>The day was duly divided: there was the morning Mass, the service of -each of the "day hours" in the chapel, the hours of each meal, the time -of recreation, the time of work; all was fixed and appointed in due -rotation, and could the poor sufferers only have forgotten the world, -and resigned themselves to their sad fate, they were no worse off than -the monks in many a monastery.</p> - -<p>But the hideous form of the disease was always there; here an arm in a -sling, to hide the fact the hand was gone;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> here a footless man, here an -eyeless one; here a noseless one, there another—like poor Evroult—with -holes through the cheek; here the flesh livid with red spots or circles -enclosing patches white as snow—so they carried the marks of the most -hideous disease of former days.</p> - -<p>Generally they were the objects of pity, but also of abhorrence and -dread. The reader will hardly believe that in France, in the year 1341, -the lepers were actually burnt alive throughout the land, in the false -plea that they poisoned the waters, really in the cruel hope to stamp -out the disease.<a name="FNanchor_14_14" id="FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a></p> - -<p>Outside the walls were all the outhouses, workshops, and detached -buildings, also an infirmary for the worst cases; within the enclosure -also the last sad home when the fell destroyer had completed his -work—the graveyard, God's acre; and in the centre rose a huge plain -cross, with the word <span class="smcap">Pax</span> on the steps.</p> - -<p>It was a law of the place that no one who entered on any pretence might -leave it again: people did not believe in cures; leprosy was -incurable—at least save by a miracle, as when the Saviour trod this -weary world.</p> - -<p>The Chaplain took the poor boys to his own chamber, a little room above -the porch of the chapel, containing a bed, over which hung the crucifix, -a chair, a table, and a few MS. books, a gospel, an epistle, a -prophetical book, the offices, church services; little more.</p> - -<p>He made them sit in the embrasure of the window, he did not let them -speak until he had given each a cup of hot wine, they sat sobbing there -a long time, he let nature have its way. At length the time came and he -spoke.</p> - -<p>"Evroult, my dear child, Richard, how could you attempt self-murder? -Know you not that your lives are God's, and that you may not lay them -down at your own pleasure."</p> - -<p>"Oh, father, why did you save us? It would have been all over now."</p> - -<p>"And where would you have been?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><p>The boy shuddered. The teaching about Hell, and the horrors of the -state of the wicked dead, was far too literal and even coarsely -material, at that time, for any one to escape its influence.</p> - -<p>"Better a thousand times to be here, only bear up till God releases you, -and He will make up for all this. You will not think of the billows past -when you gain the shore."</p> - -<p>"But, father, anything is better than this—these horrid sights, these -dreadful faces, and my father a baron."</p> - -<p>"Thou art saved many sins," said and felt the priest; "war is a dreadful -thing, strife and bloodshed would have been thy lot."</p> - -<p>"But I loved to hunt, to <i>fight</i>; I long to be a man, a knight, to win a -name in the world, to win my spurs. Oh, what shall I do, how can I bear -this?"</p> - -<p>"And do <i>you</i> feel like this, Richard," said the priest, addressing the -younger boy.</p> - -<p>"Indeed I do, how can I help it? Oh, the green woods, the baying of the -hounds, the delightful gallop, the sweet, fresh air of our Berkshire -downs, the hall on winter nights, the gleemen and their songs, their -stories of noble deeds of prowess, the——"</p> - -<p>"And the tilt-yard, the sword and the lance, the tournament, the -<i>melée</i>," added the other.</p> - -<p>"And Evroult, so brave and expert; oh what a knight thou wouldst have -made, my brother."</p> - -<p>"And our father loved to see us wrestle and fight, and ride, and jump, -and called us his brave boys; and our mother was proud of us—oh, how -can we bear the loss of all?"</p> - -<p>What could be said: nature was too strong, the instincts of generations -were in the boys, the blood of the sea-kings of old ran in their veins.</p> - -<p>"Oh, can you not help us? we know you are kind; shall we never get out? -is there no hope?"</p> - -<p>The tears streamed down the venerable man's cheeks.</p> - -<p>"We know you love us or you would not be here; they say you came of your -own accord."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span></p><p>He glanced at a glowing circle of red on his right hand, encircling a -spot of leprous flesh as white as snow.</p> - -<p>"Ah, my dear boys," he said, "I had your feelings once; nay, I was a -knight too, and had wife and children."</p> - -<p>"Do they live?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but not here; a neighbour, Robert de Belesme, you may have heard -of him——"</p> - -<p>"As a cruel monster, a wicked knight."</p> - -<p>"Stormed my castle in my absence, and burnt it with all therein."</p> - -<p>"And did you not avenge them?"</p> - -<p>"I was striving to do so, when the hand of God was laid upon me, and I -woke from a burning fever to learn that He has said, 'Vengeance is Mine, -I will repay.'"</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"I came here."</p> - -<p>"Poor Father Ambrose," said Richard.</p> - -<p>"If I could get out <i>I</i> would try to avenge him," said Evroult.</p> - -<p>"The murderer has gone before his Judge; leave it," said the priest; -"there the hidden things shall be made clear, my boys, <i>noblesse -oblige</i>, the sons of a baron should keep their word."</p> - -<p>"Have we ever broken it?"</p> - -<p>"Not so far as I am aware, and I am sure you will not now."</p> - -<p>"What are we to promise?"</p> - -<p>"Promise me you will not strive to destroy yourselves again."</p> - -<p>They looked at each other.</p> - -<p>"It is cowardly, unworthy of gentlemen."</p> - -<p>"<i>Cowardly!</i>" and the hot blood rose in their faces.</p> - -<p>"Base cowardice."</p> - -<p>"None ever called me coward before; but you are a priest."</p> - -<p>"My children, will you not promise? Then you shall not be confined as -you otherwise must be——"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p><p>"Let them confine us; we can dash our heads against the walls!"</p> - -<p>"For my sake, then; they hurt me when they hurt you."</p> - -<p>They paused, looked at each other, and sighed.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Evroult?" said Richard.</p> - -<p>"Yes, be it then, father; we promise."</p> - -<p>But there was another thought in Evroult's mind which he did not reveal.</p> - -<p>The bell then rang for chapel, but we fear the boys did not take more -than their bodies there; and when they were alone in their own little -chamber—for they were treated with special distinction (their father -"subscribed liberally to the charity")—the hidden purpose came out.</p> - -<p>"Richard," said Evroult, "we must escape."</p> - -<p>"What shall we do? where can we go?"</p> - -<p>"To Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"But our father will slay us."</p> - -<p>"Not he; he loves us too well. We shall recover then. Old Bartimœus -here told me many do recover when they get away, and live, as some do, -in the woods. It is all infection <i>here</i>; besides, I <i>must</i> see our -mother again, if it is only once more—<span class="smaller">MUST</span> see her, I long for her so."</p> - -<p>"But do you not know that the country people would slay us."</p> - -<p>"They are too afraid of the disease to seize us."</p> - -<p>"But they keep big dogs—mastiffs, and would hunt us if they knew we -were outside."</p> - -<p>"We must escape in the night."</p> - -<p>"The gates are barred and watched."</p> - -<p>"A chance will come some evening, at the last hour of recreation before -dark, we will hide in the bushes, and as soon as the others go in make -for the wall; we can easily get over; now, Richard, are you willing?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the younger, who always looked up to his elder brother with -great belief, "I am willing, but do not make the attempt yet; let us -wait a day or two; we are watched and suspected now."</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_13_13" id="Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> The disease of leprosy has been deemed incurable, and so -practically it was; but it was long before it proved fatal; it -ordinarily ran its course in a period not less than ten, nor exceeding -twenty, years. -</p><p> -The first symptoms were not unlike those of malarious disease; perhaps -leprosy was not so much contagious as endemic, bred of foul waters, or -the absence of drainage, or nourished in stagnant marshes; but all men -deemed it highly contagious. -</p><p> -The distinctive symptoms which next appeared were commonly reddish spots -on the limbs; these by degrees extended, until, becoming white as snow -in the centre, they resembled rings; then the interior became ulcerous, -and as the ulcer ate into the flesh, the latter presented the tuberous -or honey-combed appearance which led to the disease being called -<i>leprosa tuberosa</i>. Especially did the disease affect the joints of the -fingers, the wrists, and the elbows; and limbs would sometimes fall -away—or "slough off," as it is technically called. -</p><p> -By degrees it spread inward, and attacking the vital organs, -particularly the digestive functions, the sufferer died, not so much -from the primary as from the secondary effects of the disease—from -exhaustion and weakness.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_14_14" id="Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> <i>Chronicle of St. Evroult</i> in loco.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER X</span> <span class="smaller">THE NEW NOVICE</span></h2> - -<p>It was the day of St. Calixtus, the day on which, seventy-three years -earlier in the history of England, the Normans had stormed the heights -of Senlac, and the brave Harold had bitten the dust in the agonies of -death with the despairing cry, "Alas for England."</p> - -<p>Of course it was ever a high day with the conquering race, that -fourteenth of October, and the reader will not be surprised that it was -observed with due observance at Dorchester Abbey, and that special -thanksgiving for the victory was offered at the chapter Mass, which took -place at nine of the clock.</p> - -<p>Abbot Alured had just divested himself of the gorgeous vestments, in -which he had officiated at the high altar, when the infirmarer craved an -audience—it was granted.</p> - -<p>"The wounded guest has partially recovered, his fever has abated, his -senses have returned, and he seems anxious to see thee."</p> - -<p>"Why does he wish to see me particularly?"</p> - -<p>"Because he has some secret to communicate."</p> - -<p>"And why not to thee?"</p> - -<p>"I know not, save that he knows that thou art our father."</p> - -<p>"Dost think he will ever fight again?"</p> - -<p>"He will lay lance in rest no more in this world."</p> - -<p>"Nor in the next either, I presume, brother. I will arise and see him."</p> - -<p>Passing through the cloister—which was full of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> hum of boys, like -busy bees, learning their tasks—and ascending a flight of steps to the -"<i>dorture</i>," the Abbot followed the infirmarer to a pleasant and airy -cell, full of the morning sunlight, which streamed through the panes of -thin membrane—such as frequently took the place of glass.</p> - -<p>There on a couch lay extended the form of the victim of the prowess of -Brian Fitz-Count, his giant limbs composed beneath the coverlet, his -face seamed with many a wrinkle and furrow, and marked with deep lines -of care, his eyes restless and wandering.</p> - -<p>"Thou hast craved to speak with me, my son," said Abbot Alured.</p> - -<p>"Alone," was the reply, in a deep hoarse voice.</p> - -<p>"My brother, leave us till I touch the bell," said the Abbot, pointing -to a small handbell which stood on the table.</p> - -<p>The infirmarer departed.</p> - -<p>"And now, my son, what hast thou to tell me? First, who art thou? and -whence?"</p> - -<p>"I am in sanctuary here, and none can drag me hence; is it not so?"</p> - -<p>"It is, my son, unless thou hast committed such crime as sacrilege, -which God forbid."</p> - -<p>"Such crime can none lay to my charge. Tell me, father, dost thou think -it wrong for a man to slay those who have deprived him of his loved -ones, of all that made life worth living?"</p> - -<p>"'Vengeance is Mine,' saith God."</p> - -<p>"Well, I took mine into my own hand, and now my task is ended. I am -assured that I am a cripple, never to strike a fair blow again."</p> - -<p>"The more time for repentance, the better for thy soul. Thou hast not -yet told me thy name and home?"</p> - -<p>"I tell it thee in confidence, for thou wilt not betray me to mine -enemy."</p> - -<p>"Not unless justice should demand it."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span></p><p>"Well, I will tell thee my tale first. I was a husband and a father, -and a happy one, living in a home on the downs. In consequence of some -paltry dispute about black-mail or feudal dues, Brian Fitz-Count sent -men who burnt my house in my absence, and my wife and children perished -in the flames."</p> - -<p>"All!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I found not one alive, so I took to the life of a hunted wolf, -rending and destroying, and slew many foreigners, for I am Wulfnoth of -Compton; now I have told thee all."</p> - -<p>"God's mercy is infinite, thy provocation was indeed great. I judge thee -not, poor man. I never had wife or child, but I can guess how they feel -who have had and lost them. My brother, thine has been a sad life, thy -misery perhaps justified, at least, excused thy life as a leader of -outlaws; I, who am a man in whose veins flows the blood of both races, -can feel for thee, and pardon thy errors."</p> - -<p>"Errors! to avenge her and them."</p> - -<p>"The Saviour forgave His murderers, and left us an example that we -should follow His steps. Listen, my brother, thou must live for -repentance, and to learn submission to God's will; tell thy secret to no -man, lest thy foe seek thee even here, and trouble our poor house."</p> - -<p>"But I hoped to have seen him bite the dust."</p> - -<p>"And God has denied thee the boon; he is a man of strife and blood, and -no well-wisher to Holy Church; he seldom hears a Mass, never is shriven, -at least, so I have been told in confidence, for in this neighbourhood -men speak with bated breath of Brian Fitz-Count, at least within sight -of the tall tower of his keep. We will leave him to God. He is a most -unhappy man; his children are lepers."</p> - -<p>"No, at least not <i>one</i>."</p> - -<p>"So I have heard; they are in the great Leper House at Byfield, poor -boys; my cousin is the Chaplain there."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p><p>"And now, father, I will tell thee more. Thou knowest I have been -delirious, yet my senses have been awake to other scenes than these. -Methought my dear wife came to me in my delirium, came to my bedside, -sat in that seat, bathed my fevered brow, nay, it was no dream, her -blest spirit was allowed to resume the semblance of throbbing flesh, and -there she sat, where thou sittest now."</p> - -<p>The Abbot of course saw in this only a phase of delirium, but he said -nought; it was at least better than visions of imps and goblins.</p> - -<p>"Alas, dear one," continued he, as in a soliloquy, "hadst thou lived, I -had not made this life one savage hunting scene, caring only to rush in, -knock down, and drag out the prey, and now I am unfit to be where thou -art, and may never meet thee again."</p> - -<p>"My brother," said the sympathising Alured, "thou believest her to be in -Paradise?"</p> - -<p>"I do, indeed; I know they are there."</p> - -<p>"And thou wouldst fain meet them?"</p> - -<p>"I would."</p> - -<p>"Repent then, confess, thou shall be loosed from thy sins; and since -thou art unfitted for the active walks of life, take upon thee the vows -of religion."</p> - -<p>"May I? what order would admit me?"</p> - -<p>"We will; and thus strive to restore thee to thy dear ones again."</p> - -<p>"And Brian Fitz-Count will escape?"</p> - -<p>"Leave him to God."</p> - -<p>"Well, I will; doubtless he will die and be damned, and we shall never -see him; Heaven would not be Heaven if he were there."</p> - -<p>The Abbot sighed.</p> - -<p>"Ah, brother, thou hast much yet to learn ere thou becomest a true -follower of Him, Who at the moment of His supremest agony prayed for His -murderers."</p> - -<p>But the patient could bear no more, hot tears were streaming down his -cheeks.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span></p><p>"Brother, peace be with thee, from the Lord of peace, all good Saints -aid thee; say nought of this to any one but me and thou wilt be safe."</p> - -<p>He touched the bell, the infirmarer came in.</p> - -<p>"God hath touched his heart, he will join our order; as soon as possible -he shall take the vows of a novice and assume our garb, then neither -Brian Fitz-Count nor any other potentate, not the king himself, can drag -him forth."</p> - -<p>The last words were uttered in a sort of soliloquy, the infirmarer, for -whom they were not meant, did not catch them.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>And so the days sped on towards the Feast of All Saints, darkening days -and long nights too, often reddened by the light of distant -conflagrations, for that terrible period of civil strife—nay, of worse -than civil strife—was approaching, when, instead of there being only -two parties in the land, each castle was to become its own centre of -strife—declaring war upon all its neighbours; when men should fear to -till the land for others to reap; when every man's hand should be -against every man; when men should fill their strongholds with human -devils, and torture for torture sake, when there was no longer wealth to -exact; when men should say that God and His Saints were asleep—to such -foul misery and distress did the usurpation of Stephen bring the land.</p> - -<p>But those days were only beginning, as yet the tidings reached -Dorchester slowly that the Empress was the guest of her mother-in-law, -the Queen-Dowager, the widow of Henry the First, at Arundel Castle, in -Sussex, under the protection of only a hundred and forty horsemen; then, -that Robert, Earl of Gloucester, leaving his sister in comparative -safety, had proceeded through the hostile country to Bristol with only -twelve horsemen, until he was joined midway on his journey by Brian -Fitz-Count and his troop from Wallingford Castle; next, that Henry, -Bishop of Winchester, and brother of the king, had declared for her,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> -and brought her in triumph to Bristol. Lastly, that she had been -conducted by her old friend, Milo, Sheriff of Gloucester, in triumph to -that city, and there received the allegiance of the citizens.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile, the storm of fire and sword had begun; wicked men took -advantage at once of the divided state of the realm, and the eclipse of -the royal authority.</p> - -<p>They heard at Dorchester that Robert Fitz-Hubert, a savage baron, or -rather barbarian, had clandestinely entered the city of Malmesbury and -burnt it to the ground, so that divers of the wretched inhabitants -perished in the flames, of which the barbarian boasted as though he had -obtained a great triumph, declaring himself on the side of the Empress -Queen; and, further, that King Stephen, hearing of the deed, had come -after him, put him to flight, and retaken Malmesbury Castle.</p> - -<p>So affairs progressed up to the end of October.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>It was All Saints' Day, and they held high service at Dorchester Abbey; -the Chant of William of Fescamp was introduced, without any of the dire -consequences which followed it at Glastonbury.</p> - -<p>It was a day never to be forgotten by our reclaimed outlaw, Wulfnoth of -Compton, he was that day admitted to the novitiate, and received the -tonsure; dire had been the conflict in his mind; again and again the old -Adam waxed strong within him, and he longed to take advantage, like -others, of the political disturbances, in the hope of avenging his own -personal wrongs; then the sweet teachings of the Gospel softened his -heart, and again and again his dear ones seemed in his dreams to visit -him, and bid him prepare for that haven of peace into which they had -entered.</p> - -<p>"God hath done all things well," the sweet visitants of his dreams -seemed to say; "let the past be the past, and let not its black shadow -darken the glorious future—the parting was terrible, the meeting shall -be the sweeter."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span></p><p>The ceremony was over, Wulfnoth of Compton had become the Novice -Alphege of Dorchester, for, in accordance with custom, he had changed -his name on taking the vows.</p> - -<p>After the long ceremony was over, he sat long in the church undisturbed, -a sensation of sweet peace came upon him, of rest at last found, the -throbbing heart seemed quiet, the stormy passions stilled.</p> - -<p>And now, too, he no longer needed the protection of carnal weapons, he -was safe in the immunities of the church, none could drag him from the -cloister—he belonged to God.</p> - -<p>What a refuge the monastic life afforded then! Without it men would have -been divided between beasts of burden and beasts of prey.</p> - -<p>And when at last he took possession of his cell, through the narrow -window he could see Synodune rising over the Thames; it was a glorious -day, the last kiss of summer, when the "winter wind was as yet -suspended, although the fading foliage hung resigned."</p> - -<p>Peace ineffable filled his mind.</p> - -<p>The hills of Synodune for one moment caught his gaze, they had been -familiar landmarks in his days of war, rapine, and vengeance, the past -rose to his mind, but he longed not after it now.</p> - -<p>But was the old Adam dead or only slumbering? We shall see.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XI</span> <span class="smaller">OSRIC'S FIRST RIDE</span></h2> - -<p>Amidst a scene of great excitement, the party of Brian Fitz-Count left -Wallingford Castle, a hundred men, all armed to the teeth, being chosen -to accompany him, while at least five hundred were left behind, capable -of bearing arms, charged with the defence of the Castle, with orders, -that at least two hundred of their number should repair to a rendezvous, -when the progress of events should require their presence, and enable -the Baron to fix the place of meeting by means of a messenger.</p> - -<p>The day was—as it will be remembered—the second of October, in the -year 1139; the season was late, that is, summer was loth to depart, and -the weather was warm and balmy. The wild cheers of their companions, who -envied them their lot, contrasted with the sombre faces of the -townsfolk, foreboding evil in this new departure.</p> - -<p>By the Baron's side rode Milo of Gloucester, and they engaged in deep -conversation.</p> - -<p>Our young friend Osric was committed to the care of the senior page -Alain, who anticipated much sportive pleasure in catechising and -instructing his young companion—such a novice in the art of war.</p> - -<p>And it may be added in equitation, for we need not say old Sexwulf kept -no horses, and Osric had much ado to ride, not gracefully, but so as to -avoid the jeers and laughter of his companions.</p> - -<p>The young reader, who remembers his own first essay in horsemanship, -will appreciate poor Osric's difficulty, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> will easily picture the -suppressed, hardly suppressed, laughter of Alain, at each uneasy jolt. -However, Osric was a youth of good sense, and instead of turning red, or -seeming annoyed, laughed heartily too at himself. His spirits were -light, and he soon shook off the depression of the morning under the -influence of the fresh air and smiling landscape, for the tears of youth -are happily—like an April shower—soon followed by sunshine.</p> - -<p>They rode across Cholsey common, then a wide meadowed space, stretching -from Wallingford to the foot of the downs; they left the -newly-<i>restored</i> or rather <i>rebuilt</i> Church of St. Mary's of Cholsey on -their right, around which, at that time, clustered nearly all the houses -of the village, mainly built upon the rising ground to the north of the -church, avoiding the swampy common.<a name="FNanchor_15_15" id="FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> - -<p>Farther on to the left, across the clear and sparkling brook, they saw -the burnt and blackened ruins of the former monastery, founded by -Ethelred "the unready," in atonement for the murder of his half-brother, -Edward the Martyr, and burnt in the same terrible inroad; one more mile -brought them to the source of the Cholsey brook, which bubbled up from -the earth amidst a thicket of trees at the foot of a spur of the downs.</p> - -<p>Here they all stopped to drink, for the spring was famous, and had -reputed medicinal properties, and, in sooth, the water was pleasant to -the taste of man and beast.</p> - -<p>A little beyond was a moated grange belonging to the Abbot of Reading, a -pleasant summer residence in peaceful times; but the days were coming -when men should avoid lonely country habitations; there were a few -invalid monks there, they came forth and gazed upon the party, then<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> -shook their tonsured heads as the burgesses of Wallingford had done.</p> - -<p>Another mile, and they began to ascend the downs, where, according to -tradition, the battle of Æscendune had been fought, in the year of -grace, 871. Arriving at the summit, they looked back at the view: -Wallingford, the town and churches, dominated by the high tower of the -keep, was still in full view, and, beyond, the wavy line of the -Chilterns stretched into the misty distance, as described in the preface -to our tale.</p> - -<p>But most interesting to Osric was the maze of woodland which filled the -country about Aston (East-tun) and Blewbery (Blidberia), for there lay -the hut of his grandfather; and the tears rose to the affectionate lad's -eyes at the thought of the old man's future loneliness, with none but -poor old Judith to console him for the loss of his boy.</p> - -<p>Before them rose Lowbury Hill—dominated then by a watch-tower—which -they ascended and stood on the highest summit of the eastern division of -the Berkshire downs; before them on the south rose the mountainous range -of Highclere, and a thin line of smoke still ascended from the bale-fire -on the highest point.</p> - -<p>Here a horseman was seen approaching, and when he came near enough, a -knight, armed <i>cap-a-pie</i>, was disclosed.</p> - -<p>"Friend or foe?" said Alain to his companion.</p> - -<p>"If a foe, I pity him."</p> - -<p>"See, the Baron rides forth alone to meet him!"</p> - -<p>They met about a furlong from the party; entered into long and amicable -conference, and soon returned to the group on the hill; the order -brought news which changed their course, they turned to the west, and -instead of riding for Sussex, followed the track of the Icknield Street -for Devizes and the west.</p> - -<p>This brought them across the scene of the midnight encounter, and -Alain's quick eyes soon detected the traces of the combat.</p> - -<p>"Look, there has been a fight here—see how the ground<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> is trampled, and -here is a broken sword—ah! the ground is soaked with blood—there has -been a gallant tussle here—would I had seen it."</p> - -<p>Osric was not yet so enthusiastic in the love of strife.</p> - -<p>Alain's exclamations brought several of the riders around him; and they -scrutinised the ground closely, and they speculated on the subject.</p> - -<p>The Baron smiled grimly, and thought—</p> - -<p>"What has become of the corpse?" for he doubted not he had fed fat his -ancient grudge, and slain his foe.</p> - -<p>"Look in yon thicket for the body," he cried.</p> - -<p>They looked, but as our readers anticipate, found nought.</p> - -<p>The Baron wondered, and said a few confidential words to his friend -Milo, which none around heard.</p> - -<p>Shortly afterwards their route led them by Cwichelm's Hlawe, described -before; the Baron halted his party; and then summoning Osric to attend -him, rode into the thicket.</p> - -<p>The reputed witch stood at the door of her cell.</p> - -<p>"So thou art on thy way to battle; the dogs of war are unslipped."</p> - -<p>"Even so, but dost thou know this boy?"</p> - -<p>"Old Sexwulf's grandson, down in the woods; so thou hast got him, ha! -ha! he is in good hands, ha! ha!"</p> - -<p>"What means thy laughter, like the noise of an old croaking crow?"</p> - -<p>"Because thou hast caught him, and the decrees of fate are about to be -accomplished."</p> - -<p>"Retire, Osric, and join the rest."</p> - -<p>"Now, mother, tell me what thou dost mean?"</p> - -<p>"That thy conjunction with this youth bodes thee and thine little -good—the stars have told me that much."</p> - -<p>"Why, what harm can he do <i>me</i>, a mere boy?"</p> - -<p>"The free people of old taught their children to sing, 'Tremble, -tyrants; we shall grow up.'"</p> - -<p>"If he proved false, a blow would rid me of so frail an encumbrance."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p><p>"Which thou mightest hesitate to strike."</p> - -<p>"Tell me why; I thought he might be my stolen child, but the lips of old -Sexwulf speak truth, and he swears the lad is his grandson."</p> - -<p>"It is a wise grandfather who knows his own grandson."</p> - -<p>"Thou knowest many things; the boy is so like my poor——" he hesitated, -and suppressed a name; "that, hard as my heart is, he has softened it: -his voice, his manner, his gestures, tell me——"</p> - -<p>"I cannot as yet."</p> - -<p>"Dost thou know?"</p> - -<p>"Only that old Sexwulf would not wilfully deceive."</p> - -<p>"And is that all thou hast to say?"</p> - -<p>"No, wait, keep the boy near thee, thou shalt know in time; thy men are -calling for thee—hark thee, Sir Brian, the men of Donnington are out."</p> - -<p>"That for them," and the Baron snapped his fingers.</p> - -<p>When he rejoined his troop, he found them in a state of great -excitement, which was explained when they pointed to moving objects some -two or three miles away on the downs; the quick eye of the Baron -immediately saw that it was a troop which equalled his own in numbers.</p> - -<p>"The witch spoke the truth," he said; and eager as a war-horse sniffing -the fray afar, he gave the word to ride towards the distant party, which -rapidly rose and became distinct to the sight.</p> - -<p>"I see their pennons, they are the men of Donnington, and their lord is -for King Stephen; now, my men, to redden our bright swords. Osric, thou -art new to all this—Alain, thou art young—stay behind on that mound, -and join us when we have done our work."</p> - -<p>Poor Alain looked grievously hurt.</p> - -<p>"My lord!"</p> - -<p>"Well?"</p> - -<p>"Do let me share the fight!"</p> - -<p>"Thou wilt be killed."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p><p>"I will take my chance."</p> - -<p>"And Osric?"</p> - -<p>"I am not afraid, my lord," said Osric.</p> - -<p>"But thou canst hardly ride, nor knowest not yet the use of lance and -sword; here, old Raoul, stay with this lad."</p> - -<p>"My lord!"</p> - -<p>"And thou, too; well, boy, wilt thou pledge me thy word not (he lowered -his voice) to attempt to escape?"</p> - -<p>He marked a slight hesitation.</p> - -<p>"Remember thy grandfather."</p> - -<p>"My lord, I will do as thou biddest—stay where thou shalt bid me, or -ride with thee."</p> - -<p>"Stay on the crest of yonder hill."</p> - -<p>All this time they had been riding forward, and now the enemy was within -hearing.</p> - -<p>Both parties paused.</p> - -<p>Brian rode forward.</p> - -<p>A knight on the other side did the same.</p> - -<p>"For God and the Empress," said the former.</p> - -<p>"For God and the King," cried the latter.</p> - -<p>Instantly the two charged, and their followers waited to see the result: -the lance of the King's man broke; that of Sir Brian held firm, and -coming full on the breast, unhorsed the other, who fell heavily prone, -on his head, like one who, as old Homer hath it, "seeketh oysters in the -fishy sea."</p> - -<p>The others waited no longer, but eager on either side to share their -leader's fortunes, charged too. Oh, the awful shock as spear met spear; -oh, the crash, the noise, the wild shouts, the splintering of lances, -then the ringing of swords upon armour; the horses caught the enthusiasm -of the moment and bit each other, and struck out with their fore-legs: -it was grand, at least so they said in that iron age.</p> - -<p>But it was soon decided—fortune kept steadfast to her first -inclinations—the troops fared as their leaders had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> fared—and those -who were left alive of the Donnington men were soon riding southward for -bare life.</p> - -<p>Brian ordered the trumpeter to recall his men from the pursuit.</p> - -<p>"Let them go—I have their leader—he at least shall pay ransom; they -have been good company, and we feel sorry to see them go."</p> - -<p>The poor leader, Sir Hubert of Donnington, the eldest son of the lord of -that ilk, was lifted, half-stunned, upon a horse behind another rider, -while Brian remembered Osric.</p> - -<p>What had been the feelings of the latter?</p> - -<p>Did the reader ever meet that story in St. Augustine's Confessions, of a -young Christian taken against his will to see the bloody sports of the -amphitheatre. His companions dragged him thither, he said they might -have his body, but he shut his eyes and stopped his ears until a louder -shout than usual pierced through the auricular protection—one moment of -curiosity, he opened his eyes, he saw the victor thrust the trident into -the palpitating body of the vanquished, the demon of blood-thirstiness -seized him, he shouted too, and afterwards sought those cruel scenes -from choice, until the grace of God stopped him.</p> - -<p>So now with our Osric.</p> - -<p>He felt no desire at first to join the <i>mêlée</i>, indeed, he knew how -helpless he was; but as he gazed a strange, wild longing came over him, -he felt inclined, nay, could hardly restrain himself from rushing in; -but his promise to stay on the hill prevailed over him: perhaps it was -hereditary inclination.</p> - -<p>But after all was over, he saw Alain wiping his bloody sword as he -laughed with savage glee.</p> - -<p>"Look, Osric, I killed one—see the blood."</p> - -<p>Instead of being shocked, as a good boy should have been, Osric envied -him, and determined to spend all the time he possibly could in mastering -the art of jousting and fencing.</p> - -<p>They now rode on, leaving twenty of their own dead<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> on the plain, and -forty of the enemy; but, as Napoleon afterwards said—"You cannot make -an omelette without breaking eggs."</p> - -<p>And now, alas, the eggs were human lives—men made in the image of -God—too little accounted of in those days.</p> - -<p>They now passed Letcombe Castle,—a huge circular camp with trench and -vallum, capable of containing an army; it was of the old British times, -and the mediæval warriors grimly surveyed this relic of primæval war. -Below there lay the town of Wantage,—then strongly walled around,—the -birthplace of Alfred. Three more miles brought them to the Blowing -Stone, above Kingston Lisle, another relic of hoar antiquity; and Alain, -who had been there before, amused Osric by producing that deep hollow -roar, which in earlier days had served to alarm the neighbourhood, as he -blew into the cavity.</p> - -<p>Now the ridgeway bore straight to the highest summit of the whole -range,—the White Horse Hill,—and here they all dismounted, and -tethering their horses, prepared to refresh man and beast. Poor Osric -was terribly sore and stiff, and could not even walk gracefully; he was -still able to join Alain in his laughter, but with less grace than at -first.</p> - -<p>But we must cut this chapter short; suffice it to say, that after a -brief halt they resumed their route; camped that night under the shelter -of a clump of trees on the downs, and the next day, at Devizes, effected -a junction with the troops of Earl Robert of Gloucester, who, having -left his sister safe in Arundel Castle, was on his way to secure -Bristol, attended by only twelve horsemen.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_15_15" id="Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> It was a cruciform structure, a huge tower on the -intersection of the arms of the cross, the present chancel was not then -in existence, a smaller sanctuary of Norman architecture supplied its -place. The old church had been destroyed with the village in that Danish -invasion of which we have told in the tale of <i>Alfgar the Dane</i>, which -took place in 1006, and the place had lain waste till the manor was -given to Reading Abbey, under whose fostering influence it had risen -from its ashes.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XII</span> <span class="smaller">THE HERMITAGE</span></h2> - -<p>For many days Evroult and Richard, the sons—unhappy, leprous sons—of -Brian Fitz-Count, bore their sad lot with apparent patience in the -lazar-house of Byfield; but their minds were determined, come weal or -woe, they would endeavour to escape.</p> - -<p>"Where there is a will," says an old proverb, "there is a way,"—the -chance Evroult had spoken of soon came.</p> - -<p>It was the hour of evening recreation, and in the spacious grounds -attached to the lazar-house, the lepers were walking listlessly around -the well-trodden paths, in all stages of leprous deformity; it was -curious to note how differently it affected different people; some -walked downcast, their eyes on the ground, studiously concealing their -ghastly wounds; some in a state of semi-idiotcy—no uncommon -result—"moped and mowed"; some, in hopeless despair, sighed and -groaned; and one cried "Lost, lost," as he wrung his hands.</p> - -<p>There were keepers here and there amongst them, too often lepers -themselves. The Chaplain, too, was there, endeavouring to administer -peripatetic consolation first to one, then to another.</p> - -<p>"Well, Richard, well, Evroult, my boys, how are you to-day?"</p> - -<p>"As well as we ever shall be here."</p> - -<p>"I want to get out of this place."</p> - -<p>"And I."</p> - -<p>"Oh will you not get us out? Can you not speak to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> the governor? see, we -are <i>nearly</i> well." Then Richard looked at his hand, where two fingers -were missing, and sobbed aloud.</p> - -<p>"It is no use, my dear boys, to dash yourselves against the bars of your -cage, like poor silly birds; I fear the time of release will never come, -till death brings it either for you or me—see, I share your lot."</p> - -<p>"But you have had your day in the world, and come here of your own -accord; we are only boys, oh, perhaps with threescore and ten years here -before us, as you say in the Psalms."</p> - -<p>"Nay, few here attain the age the Psalmist gives as the ordinary limit -of human life in his day, and, indeed, few outside in these days."<a name="FNanchor_16_16" id="FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a></p> - -<p>"Well, we should have been out of it all, had you not interfered."</p> - -<p>"And where?"</p> - -<p>Echo answered "Where?"—the boys were silent.</p> - -<p>The Chaplain saw that in their present mood he could do no good—he -turned elsewhere.</p> - -<p>Nothing but an intense desire to alleviate suffering had brought him to -Byfield lazar-house. The Christianity of that age was sternly practical, -if superstitious; and with all its superstition it exercised a far more -beneficent influence on society than fifty Salvation Armies could have -done; it led men to remember Christ in all forms of loathsome and cruel -suffering, and to seek Him in the suffering members of His mystical -body; if it led to self-chosen austerities, it also had its heights of -heroic self-immolation for the good of others.</p> - -<p>Such a self-immolation was certainly our Chaplain's. He walked amongst -these unfortunates as a ministering angel; where he could do good he did -it, where consolation<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> found acceptance he gave it, and many a -despairing spirit he soothed with the hope of the sunny land of -Paradise.</p> - -<p>And how he preached to them of Him Who sanctified suffering and made it -the path to glory; how he told them how He should some day change their -vile leprous bodies that He might make them like His own most glorious -Body, until the many, abandoning all hope here, looked forward simply -for that glorious consummation of body and soul in bliss eternal.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Oh! how glorious and resplendent</div> -<div class="i1">Shall this body some day be;</div> -<div>Full of vigour, full of pleasure,</div> -<div class="i1">Full of health, and strong and free:</div> -<div>When renewed in Christ's own image,</div> -<div class="i1">Which shall last eternally."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But all this was lost on Evroult and Richard. The inherited instincts of -fierce generations of proud and ruthless ancestors were in them—as -surely as the little tigerling, brought up as a kitten, begins -eventually to bite and tear, so did these poor boys long for sword and -lance—for the life of the wild huntsman or the wilder robber baron.</p> - -<p>Instincts worthy of condemnation, yet not without their redeeming -points; such were all our ancestors once, whether Angle, Saxon, Jute, or -Northman; and the fusion has made the Englishman what he is.</p> - -<p class="center">* * * * *</p> - -<p>The bell began to ring for Vespers; there was quite a quarter of an hour -ere they went into chapel.</p> - -<p>It was a dark autumnal evening, the sun had just gone down suddenly into -a huge bank of dark clouds, and gloom had come upon the earth, as the -two boys slipped into the bushes, which bordered their path, unseen.</p> - -<p>The time seemed ages until the bell ceased and they knew that all their -companions were in chapel, and that they must immediately be missed from -their places.</p> - -<p>Prompt to the moment, Evroult cried "<i>Now</i>, Richard," and ran to the -wall; he had woven a rope from his bed-clothes, and concealed it about -his person; he had wrenched<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> a bar from his window, and twisted it into -a huge hook; he now threw it over the summit of the lofty wall, and it -bit—held.</p> - -<p>Up the wall the boys swarmed, at the very moment when the Chaplain -noticed their missing forms in their seats in chapel, and the keepers, -too, who counted their numbers as they went in, found "two short," and -went to search the grounds.</p> - -<p>To search—but not to find. The boys were over the wall, and running for -the woods.</p> - -<p>Oh, how dark and dismal the woods seemed in the gloom. But happily there -was a full moon to come that night, as the boys knew, and they felt also -that the darkness shielded them from immediate pursuit.</p> - -<p>Onward they plunged—through thicket and brake, through firm ground and -swamp, hardly knowing which way they were going, until they came upon a -brook, and sat down on its bank in utter weariness.</p> - -<p>"Oh, Evroult, how shall we find our way? And we have had no supper; I am -getting hungry already," cried the younger boy.</p> - -<p>"Do you not know that all these brooks run to the Cherwell, and the -Cherwell into the Thames? We will keep down the brook till we come to -the river, and then to the river till we come to Oxnaford."</p> - -<p>"Listen, there is the bay of a hound! Oh, Evroult, he will tear us in -pieces! It is that savage mastiff of theirs, 'Tear-'em.' The keepers are -after us. Oh, what shall we do?"</p> - -<p>"Be men—like our father," said the sterner Evroult.</p> - -<p>"But we have no weapons."</p> - -<p>"I have my fist. If he comes at me I will thrust it down his foul -throat, or grasp his windpipe, and strangle him."</p> - -<p>"Evroult, I have heard that they cannot track us in water. Let us walk -down the brook."</p> - -<p>"Oh, there is a fire!"</p> - -<p>"No, it is the moon rising over the trees; that is the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> light she sends -before her. You are right—now for the brook. Ah! it feels clear and -pebbly, no mud to stick in. Come, Richard! let us start. No, stay, I -remember that if the brute finds blood he will go no farther. Here is my -knife," and the desperate boy produced a little pocket-knife.</p> - -<p>"What are you going to do?"</p> - -<p>"Drop a little blood. There is a big blue vein in my arm."</p> - -<p>And the reckless lad opened a vein in his arm, which bled freely.</p> - -<p>"Let me do the same," cried the other.</p> - -<p>"No; this is enough." And he scattered the blood all about, then looked -out for some "dock-leaf," and bound it over the wound with part of the -cord which had helped them over the wall.</p> - -<p>"Now, that will do. Let us hurry down the brook, Richard, before they -come in sight."</p> - -<p>Such determination had its reward; they left all pursuit behind them, -and heard no more of the hound.</p> - -<p>Tired out at last, they espied with joy an old barn by the brook side, -turned in, found soft hay, and, reckless of all consequences, slept till -the sun was high in the heavens.</p> - -<p>Then they awoke, and lo! a gruff man was standing over them.</p> - -<p>"Who are you, boys?"</p> - -<p>"The sons of the Lord of Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"How came you here?"</p> - -<p>"Lost in the woods."</p> - -<p>"But Wallingford is far away to the south."</p> - -<p>"We are on our road home; can you give us some food?"</p> - -<p>"If you will come to my house, you shall have what I can give you. Why! -what is the matter with that hand, that cheek? Good heavens, ye are -lepers; keep off!"</p> - -<p>The poor boys stood rooted to the spot with shame.</p> - -<p>"And ye have defiled my hay—no one will dare touch it. I have a great -mind to shut you both in, and burn you and the hay together."</p> - -<p>"That you shall not," said the fierce Evroult, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> dashed through the -open door, almost upsetting the man, who was so afraid of touching the -lepers that he could offer no effective resistance, and the two got off.</p> - -<p>"That was a narrow escape, but how shall we get food?"</p> - -<p>A few miles down the brook they began to feel very faint.</p> - -<p>"See, there is a farm; let us ask for some milk and bread."</p> - -<p>"Richard, you are not marked as I am, you go first."</p> - -<p>A poor sort of farm in the woods—farmhouse, ricks, stables, barns, of -rude construction. A woman was milking the cows in a hovel with open -door.</p> - -<p>"Please give us some milk," said Richard, standing in the doorway; "we -are very hungry and thirsty."</p> - -<p>"Drink from the bowl. How came you in the woods?"</p> - -<p>"Lost."</p> - -<p>"And there is another—your brother, is he?—round the door. Drink and -pass it to him."</p> - -<p>They both drank freely, Evroult turning away the bad cheek.</p> - -<p>As Richard gave back the bowl, the woman espied his hands.</p> - -<p>"Mother of mercy! why, where are your fingers? you are a leper, out! -out! John, turn out the dogs."</p> - -<p>"Nay! nay! we will go; only throw us a piece of bread."</p> - -<p>"Why are you not shut up? Good Saints!"</p> - -<p>"Please do not be hard upon us—give us some bread."</p> - -<p>"Will you promise to go away?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, if you will give us some bread."</p> - -<p>"Keep off, then;" and the good woman, a little softened, gave them some -oaten cakes, just as her husband appeared in the distance coming in from -the fields.</p> - -<p>"Now off, before any harm come of it; go back to Byfield lazar-house."</p> - -<p>"It was so dreadful; we have run away."</p> - -<p>"Poor boys, so young too; but off, or my good man may set the dogs at -you."</p> - -<p>And they departed, much refreshed.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p><p>"Oh Evroult, how every one abhors us!"</p> - -<p>"It is very hard to bear."</p> - -<p>At midday, still following the brook, they were saluted with a stern -"Stand, and deliver!"</p> - -<p>A fellow in forester's garb, with bow and arrow so adjusted that he -could send the shaft in a moment through any body, opposed their -passage.</p> - -<p>"We are only poor boys."</p> - -<p>"Whither bound?"</p> - -<p>"For Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"Why, that is three days' journey hence; come with me."</p> - -<p>He led them into an open glade; there was a large fire over which a -cauldron hung, emitting a most savoury stew as it bubbled, and stretched -around the fire were some thirty men, evidently outlaws of the Robin -Hood type.</p> - -<p>"What are these boys?"</p> - -<p>"Wanderers in the woods, who say they want to go to Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"Whose sons are ye?"</p> - -<p>"Of Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"By all the Saints! then my rede is to hang them for their father's -sake, and have no more of the brood. Have you any brothers? Good -heavens! they are lepers."</p> - -<p>"Send an arrow through each."</p> - -<p>"For shame, Ulf, the hand of God hath touched them; but depart."</p> - -<p>"Give us some food."</p> - -<p>"Not unless you promise to go back to the lazar-house, from which we see -you have escaped."</p> - -<p>Poor boys, even hungry as they were, they would not promise.</p> - -<p>"Put some bread on that stump," said the leader, "and let them take it; -come not near: now off!"</p> - -<p>It was the last food the poor boys got for many hours, for every one -abhorred their presence and drove them off with sticks and stones, -until, wearied out, Richard sank fainting on the ground on the eventide -of that weary day.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p><p>Evroult was at the end of his resources, and at last felt beaten; tears -were already trickling down his manly young face.</p> - -<p>An aged man bent over them.</p> - -<p>"Why do you weep, my son? what is the matter with your companion?"</p> - -<p>It was an old man who spoke, in long coarse robe, and a rope around his -waist. Evroult recognised the hermit.</p> - -<p>"We are lepers," said he despairingly.</p> - -<p>The old man bent down and kissed their sores.</p> - -<p>"I see Christ in you; come to my humble cell—there you shall have food, -fire, and shelter."</p> - -<p>He helped them to ascend the rocky side of the valley, until they came -to a natural cave half concealed by herbage—an artificial front had -been built of stone, with door and window; a spring of water bubbled -down the rock, to find its destination in the brook below. Far over the -forest they could see a river, red in the light of the setting sun, and -the buildings of a town of some size in the dim distance. The river, -although they knew it not, was the Cherwell, the town, Banbury.</p> - -<p>He led them and seated them by a fire, gave them food, then, after he -had heard their tale—</p> - -<p>"My dear children," he said, "if you dread the lazar-house so much, ye -may stay with me while ye will; go not forth again into the cruel, cruel -world, poor wounded lambs."</p> - -<p>And the good man put them to bed upon moss and leaves.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_16_16" id="Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> Too true. Bad sanitary arrangements causing constant -plague and fever, ignorance of medicine, frequent famines, the constant -casualties of war, had brought men to think fifty years a ripe old age -in the twelfth century.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIII</span> <span class="smaller">OSRIC AT HOME</span></h2> - -<p>It is not our intention to follow Osric's career closely during the -early period of his pagehood under the fostering care of Brian -Fitz-Count and the influence of Alain, but we shall briefly dwell in -this chapter upon the great change which was taking place in his life -and character.</p> - -<p>When we first met him, he was simple to a fault, but he had the sterling -virtues of truthfulness and obedience, purity and unselfishness, -sedulously cultivated in a congenial soil by his grandfather, one of -Nature's noblemen, although not ranked amongst the Norman <i>noblesse</i>.</p> - -<p>But it was the virtue which had never yet met real temptation. -Courageous and brave he was also, but still up to the date of the -adventure with the deer, he had never struck a blow in anger, or harmed -a fellow-creature, save the beasts of the chase whom he slew for food, -not for sport.</p> - -<p>Then came the great change in his life: the gentle, affectionate lad was -thrown into the utterly worldly and impure atmosphere of a Norman -castle—into a new world; thoughts and emotions were aroused to which he -had been hitherto a perfect stranger, and, strange to say, he felt -unsuspected traits in his own character, and desires in his own unformed -mind answering to them.</p> - -<p>For instance, he who had never raised a hand in angry strife, felt the -homicidal impulse rush upon him during the skirmish we described in a -previous chapter. He longed to take part in the frays, to be where blows -were going;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> thenceforward he gave himself up with ardour to the study -of war; he spent all his spare time in acquiring the arts of fence and -the management of weapons; and Brian smiled grimly as he declared that -Osric would soon be a match for Alain.</p> - -<p>But it was long before the Baron allowed him to take part in actual -bloodshed, and then only under circumstances which did not involve -needless risk, or aught more than the ordinary chances of mortal combat, -mitigated by whatsoever aid his elders could afford; for Brian loved the -boy with a strange attachment; the one soft point in his armour of proof -was his love for Osric—not a selfish love, but a parental one, as if -God had committed the boy to his charge in the place of those he had -lost.</p> - -<p>Yet he did not believe Osric was his long-lost son: no, that child was -dead and gone,—the statements of the old man were too explicit to allow -of further doubt.</p> - -<p>Osric was present when that brutal noble, Robert Fitz-Hubert, stormed -Malmesbury; there he beheld for the first time the horrors of a <i>sack</i>; -there he saw the wretched inhabitants flying out of their burning homes -to fall upon the swords of the barbarous soldiery. At the time he felt -that terrible thirst so like that of a wild beast,—which in some modern -sieges, such as Badajos, has turned even Englishmen into wild and -merciless savages,—and then when it was over, he felt sick and loathed -himself.</p> - -<p>He was fond of Alain, who returned the preference, yet Alain was a bad -companion, for he was an adept in the vices of his day—not unlike our -modern ones altogether, yet developed in a different soil, and of ranker -growth.</p> - -<p>Therefore Osric soon had many secrets he could not confide to his -grandfather, whom he was permitted to see from time to time,—a great -concession on the part of the Lord of Wallingford, who craved all the -boy's love for himself.</p> - -<p>"Thou art changed, my dear Osric," said his grandfather on one of these -occasions, a fine Sunday morn when Osric had leave of absence.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span></p><p>They were on their way through the tangled wood to the old Saxon Church -of Aston Upthorpe, in which King Alfred was said to have heard Mass.<a name="FNanchor_17_17" id="FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a></p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The woods were God's first temples, ere man raised</div> -<div>The architrave."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The very fountains babbled in His honour Who made them to laugh and -sing, the birds sang their matin songs in His praise—this happy -woodland was exempted from all those horrors of war which already -devastated the rest of England, for it was safe under the protection of -Brian, to whom, wiser than Wulfnoth of Compton, it paid tribute; and at -this juncture Maude and her party were supreme, for it was during -Stephen's captivity at Bristol.</p> - -<p>"Thou art changed, my dear Osric."</p> - -<p>"How, my grandsire?"</p> - -<p>"Thy face is the same, yet not the same, even as Adam's face was the -same, yet not the same, after he learned the secret of evil, which drove -him from Paradise."</p> - -<p>"And I too have been driven from Paradise: my Eden was here."</p> - -<p>"Wouldst thou return if thou couldst; if Brian consented to release -thee." And the old man looked the youth full in the face.</p> - -<p>Osric was transparently truthful.</p> - -<p>"No, grandfather," he said, and then blushed.</p> - -<p>"Ah, thou art young and lovest adventure and the gilded panoply of war: -what wonder! such was thy father, Wulfnoth of Compton, of whom thou art -the sole surviving child."</p> - -<p>"Tell me, grandfather, is he dead—is my poor father dead?"</p> - -<p>"That is a secret which may not be committed even to thee; were he -alive, he would curse thee, did he know thou wert fighting under Brian's -banner."</p> - -<p>"It was to save thy life."</p> - -<p>"I know it, my child, and would be the last to blame<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> thee, yet I am -glad thy father knows it not. He has never inquired concerning thee."</p> - -<p>"Then he is alive?"</p> - -<p>"Did I say he was? I meant not to do so—seek not to know—knowledge is -sometimes dangerous."</p> - -<p>"Well, if he is alive," said Osric, a little piqued, "he does not care -half so much for me as does my Lord of Wallingford. <i>He</i> would have -asked about me."</p> - -<p>"He treats thee well then."</p> - -<p>"As if he loved me."</p> - -<p>"It is strange—passing strange; as soon should I expect a wolf to -fondle a kid."</p> - -<p>"I am not a kid, at least not now."</p> - -<p>"What then, dear boy? a wolf?"</p> - -<p>"More like one, I think, than a kid."</p> - -<p>"And thou hast looked on bloodshed with unflinching eye and not -shuddered?"</p> - -<p>"I shuddered just at first; but I have got used to it: you have often -said war is lawful."</p> - -<p>"Yes, for one's country, as when Alfred fought against the Danes or -Harold at Senlac. So it was noble to die as died my father,—your own -ancestor, Thurkill of Kingestun; so, had I been old enough to have gone -with him, should I have died."</p> - -<p>"And you took part in the skirmishes which followed Senlac?"</p> - -<p>"I fought under the hero Hereward."</p> - -<p>"And did <i>you</i> shudder to look upon war?"</p> - -<p>"Only as a youth naturally does the first time he sees the blood of man -poured forth like water—it is not for that I would reproach thee, only -<i>we</i> fought for liberty; and it is better to die than to live a life of -slavery,—happier far were they who fell around our noble Harold on the -hill of Senlac, than they who survived to see the desolation and misery, -the chains and slavery which awaited the land; but, my child, what are -you fighting for? surely one tyrant is no better than another, Maude or -Stephen, what does it matter?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span></p><p>"Save, grandfather, that Maude is the descendant of our old English -kings—her great-grandfather was the Ironside of whose valiant deeds I -have often heard you boast."</p> - -<p>"True, my son, and therefore of the <i>two</i>, I wish her success; but she -also is the grandchild of the Conqueror, who was the scourge of God to -this poor country."</p> - -<p>"In that case God sent him."</p> - -<p>"Deliver my soul from the ungodly, which is a sword of Thine," quoted -the pious old man, well versed in certain translations from the Psalms.</p> - -<p>"My grandfather, I fought against it as long as I could, as thou -knowest; I would have died, and did brave the torture, rather than -consent to become a page of the Lord of Wallingford; and when I did so -become to save <i>thy</i> life, I felt bound in honour to be faithful, and so -to the best of my power I have been."</p> - -<p>"And now thou lovest the yoke, and wouldst not return?"</p> - -<p>Again the youth coloured.</p> - -<p>"Grandfather, I cannot help it—excitement, adventure, the glory of -victory, the joy even of combat, has that attraction for me of which our -bards have sung, in the old songs of the English Chronicles which you -taught me around the hearth."</p> - -<p>"The lion's cub is a lion still; let him but taste blood, and the true -nature comes out."</p> - -<p>"Better be a lion than a deer—better eat than be eaten, grandfather."</p> - -<p>"I know not," said the old man pensively, "but, my child, never draw thy -sword to oppress thy poor countrymen, unless thou wouldst have thy -father curse thee."</p> - -<p>"He is not dead then?"</p> - -<p>"I said not so."</p> - -<p>"Why not tell me whether my father lives?"</p> - -<p>"Because in thy present position, which thou canst not escape, the -knowledge would be dangerous to thee."</p> - -<p>"How came my father to leave me in thy care? how<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> did my mother die? why -am I the only one left of my kin?"</p> - -<p>"All this I am bound not to tell thee, my child; try and forget it all -until thou art of full age."</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"Perchance even <i>then</i> it were better to let the dead bury their dead."</p> - -<p>Osric sighed.</p> - -<p>"Why am I the child of mystery? why have I not a surname like my -compeers? they mock me now and then, and I have had two or three sharp -fights in consequence; at last the Baron found it out, for he saw the -marks upon my face, and he spoke so sternly to them that they ceased to -gibe."</p> - -<p>"My dear boy, commit it all to thy Heavenly Father; thou dost not forget -thy prayers?"</p> - -<p>"Not when I am in the Castle chapel."</p> - -<p>"And not at other times?"</p> - -<p>"It is impossible. I sleep amidst other pages. I just cross myself when -I think of it, and say a Pater and an Ave."</p> - -<p>"And how often dost thou go to Mass?"</p> - -<p>"When we are not out on an expedition, each Sunday."</p> - -<p>"Does the Baron go to church with you?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, but he does not believe much in it."</p> - -<p>"I feared not: and thy companions?"</p> - -<p>"They often laugh and jest during Matins or Mass."</p> - -<p>"And you?"</p> - -<p>"I try not to join them, because it would grieve you."</p> - -<p>"There should be a higher motive."</p> - -<p>"I know it."</p> - -<p>"And with regard to other trials and temptations, are your companions -good lads?"</p> - -<p>Osric laughed aloud.</p> - -<p>"No, grandfather, anything but that."</p> - -<p>"And you?"</p> - -<p>"I go to the good priest of St. Mary's to Confession, and that wipes it -off."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span></p><p>"Nay, my child, not without penitence, and penitence is shown by -ceasing to sin."</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>Now they had arrived at the rustic church of East-town, or Aston, on the -slope of the old Roman camp, which uprose above the forest. Many -woodsmen and rustics of the humble village were there. It was a simple -service: rude village psalmody; primitive vestments and ritual, quite -unlike the gorgeous scenes then witnessed in cathedral or abbey church, -in that age of display. Osmund of Sarum had not made his influence felt -much here, although the church was in the diocese he once ruled. All was -of the old Anglo-Saxon type, as when Alfred was alive, and England free. -There was not a Norman there to criticise; they shunned the churches to -which the rustics resorted, and where the homilies were in the English -tongue, which they would not trouble to learn.</p> - -<p>Poor Osric! his whole character and disposition may be plainly enough -traced in the conversation given above. The reader must not condemn the -grandfather, old Sexwulf, for his reticence concerning the mystery of -Osric's birth. When Wulfnoth of Compton brought the babe to his door, it -was with strict injunctions not to disclose the secret till he gave -permission. The old grandfather did not understand the reasons why so -much mystery was made of the matter, but he felt bound to obey the -prohibition.</p> - -<p>Hence all that Osric knew was that he was the last survivor of his -family, and that all besides him had perished in the wars, save a father -of whom little was known, except that he manifested no interest -whatsoever in his son.</p> - -<p>Perhaps the reader can already solve the riddle; we have given hints -enough. Only he must remember that neither Brian nor Sexwulf had his -advantages.</p> - -<p>The service of the village church sounded sweetly in the ears of Osric -that day. He was affected by the associations which cling about the -churches where we once knelt by a father or mother's side; and Osric -felt like a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> child again as he knelt by his grandfather—it might be for -the last time, for the possibility of sudden death on the battle-field, -of entering a deadly fray never to emerge alive, of succumbing beneath -the sword or lance of some stronger or more fortunate adversary, was -ever present to the mind; yet Osric did not fear death on the -battle-field. There was, and is, an unaccountable glamour about it: men -who would not enter a "pest-house" for the world, would volunteer for a -"forlorn hope."</p> - -<p>But it is quite certain that on that day all the religious impulses -Osric had ever felt, were revived, and that he vowed again and again to -be a true knight, <i>sans peur et sans reproche</i>, fearing nought but God, -and afraid only of sin and shame, as the vow of chivalry imported, if -knight he was ever allowed to become.</p> - -<p><i>Ite missa est</i><a name="FNanchor_18_18" id="FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a>—it was over, and they left the rustic church. -Outside the neighbours clustered and chatted as they do nowadays. They -congratulated Sexwulf on his handsome grandson, and flattered the boy as -they commented on his changed appearance, but there always seemed -something they left unsaid.</p> - -<p>Neither was their talk cheerful; it turned chiefly upon wars and rumours -of wars. They had been spared, but there were dismal tales of the -country around—of murder and arson, of fire and sword, of worse scenes -yet behind, and doom to come.</p> - -<p>They hoped to gather in <i>that</i> harvest, whether another would be theirs -to reap was very doubtful. And so at last they separated, and through -some golden fields of corn, for it was nearly harvest time, Sexwulf and -his grandson wended their way to their forest home. It was a day long -remembered, for it was the very last of a long series of peaceful -Sundays in the forest. Osric felt unusually happy that afternoon, as he -returned home with his grandfather, full of the strength of new -resolutions with which we are told the way to a place, unmentionable<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> to -ears polite, is paved; and his manner to his grandfather was so sweet -and affectionate, that the dear old man was delighted with his boy.</p> - -<p>The evening was spent at home, for there was no Vesper service at the -little chapel—amidst the declining shadows of the trees, the solemn -silence of the forest, the sweet murmuring of the brook. The old man -slept in the shade, seated upon a mossy bank. Osric slept too, with his -head pillowed upon his grandfather's lap; while in wakeful moments the -aged hands played with his graceful locks. Old Judith span in the -doorway and watched the lad.</p> - -<p>"He is as bonny as he is brave, and as brave as he is bonny, the dear -lad," she said.</p> - -<p>Then came the shadows of night. The old man brought forth his -dilapidated harp, and the three sang the evening hymn to its -accompaniment—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Te lucis ante terminum,"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>and repeated the psalm <i>Qui habitat</i>; then with a short prayer, not -unlike our "Lighten our darkness," indeed its prototype, they retired to -sleep, while the wind sighed a requiem about them through the arches of -the forest, and dewy odours stole through the crevices of the hut—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_17_17" id="Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> It still stands, one of the oldest of our old village -churches.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_18_18" id="Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> <i>Ite missa est</i>, <i>i.e.</i> the concluding words of the Mass.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIV</span> <span class="smaller">THE HERMITAGE</span></h2> - -<p>Nothing is more incomprehensible to the Christians of the nineteenth -century than the lives of the hermits, and the general verdict passed -upon them is, that they were useless, idle men, who fled from the world -to avoid its work, or else were possessed with an unreasoning -superstition which turned them into mere fanatics.</p> - -<p>But this verdict is one-sided and unjust, and founded upon ignorance of -the world of crime and violence from which these men fled,—a world -which seemed so utterly abandoned to cruelty and lust that men despaired -of its reformation; a world wherein men had no choice between a life of -strife and bloodshed, and the absolute renunciation of society; a world -wherein there was no way of escape but to flee to the deserts and -mountains, or enter the monastic life, for those, who, as ancient -Romans, might have committed suicide, but as Christians, felt they -<i>must</i> live, till God in His mercy called them hence.</p> - -<p>And so while the majority of those who sought God embraced what is -commonly called, <i>par excellence</i>, the religious life, others sought Him -in solitude and silence; wherein, however, they were followed by that -universal reverence which men, taught by the legends of the Church, -bestowed on the pious anchorite.</p> - -<p>Poverty, celibacy, self-annihilation, were their watchwords; and in -contemplation of death, judgment, Hell, and Heaven, these lonely hours -were passed.</p> - -<p>Such a man was Meinhold, with whom the youthful<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> sons of Brian -Fitz-Count had found refuge. From childhood upwards he had loathed the -sin he saw everywhere around him, and thence he sought the monastic -life; but as ill-hap would have it, found a monastery in which the monks -were forgetful of their vows, and slaves of sin, somewhat after the -fashion of those described in Longfellow's "Golden Legend," for such -there were, although, we believe, they were but exceptions to the -general rule—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Corruptio optimi est pessima."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>The corruption of that which is very good is commonly the worst of all -corruption: if monks did not rise above the world, they fell beneath it. -Meinhold sternly rebuked them; and, in consequence, when one day it was -his turn to celebrate the Eucharist, they poisoned the wine he should -have used. By chance he was prevented from saying the Mass that day, and -a poor young friar who took his place fell down dead on the steps of the -altar. Meinhold shook off the dust of his feet and left them, and they -in revenge said a Mass for the Dead on his behalf, with the idea that it -would hasten his demise; for if not religious they were superstitious.</p> - -<p>Then he determined that he would have nought more to do with his -fellow-men, and sought God's first temples, the forests. In the summer -time he wandered in its glades, reciting his Breviary, until he found -out a place where he might lay his head.</p> - -<p>A range of limestone hills had been cleft in the course of ages by a -stream, which had at length scooped out a valley, like unto the "chines" -in the Isle of Wight, and now rushed brawling into the river below, -adown the vale it had made. In the rock, on one side of the vale, -existed a large cave, formed by the agency of water, in the first place, -but now high and dry. It had not only one, but several apartments; -cavern opened out of cavern, and so dark and devious were their -windings, that men feared to penetrate them.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p><p>Hither, for the love of God, came Meinhold. He had found the place he -desired—a shelter from the storms of Heaven. In the outer cave he -placed a rude table and seat, which he made for himself; and in an inner -cavern he made a bed of flags and leaves.</p> - -<p>In the corner of the cell he placed his crucifix. Wandering in the woods -he found the skeleton of some poor hapless wayfarer, long since denuded -of its flesh. He placed the skull beneath the crucifix as a <i>memento -mori</i>, not without breathing a prayer for the poor soul to whom it had -once belonged.</p> - -<p>Here he read his Breviary, which, let the reader remember, was mainly -taken from the Word of God, psalms and lessons forming three-fourths of -the contents of the book, arranged, as in our Prayer Book, for the -Christian year. It was his sole possession,—a bequest of a deceased -friend, worth its weight in gold in the book market, but far more -valuable in Meinhold's eyes.</p> - -<p>Here, then, he passed a blameless if monotonous existence, to which but -one objection could be made—it was a <i>selfish</i> life. Even if the -selfishness were of a high order, man was not sent into the world simply -to save, each one, his own soul. The life of the Chaplain at Byfield -lazar-house showed how men could abjure self far more truly than in a -hermitage.</p> - -<p>Sometimes thoughts of this kind passed through the mind of our hermit -and drove him distracted, until his cry became,</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And while he thus sought to know God's Will, the two poor fugitives, -Evroult and Richard, came into his way.</p> - -<p>Poor wounded lambs! no fear had he of their terrible malady. The Lord -had sent them to him, and the hermit felt his prayers were answered. -Wearied out and tired by their long day's journey, the poor boys -passively accepted his hospitality; and they ate of his simple fare, -and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> slept on his bed of leaves as if it had been a couch of down; nor -did they awake till the sun was high in the heavens.</p> - -<p>The hermit had been up since sunrise. He had long since said his Matins -and Lauds from his well-thumbed book; and then kindling a fire in a sort -of natural hearth beneath a hole in the rock, which opened to the upper -air, he roasted some oatmeal cakes, and went out to gather blackberries -and nuts, as a sort of dessert after meat, for the boys. It was all he -had to offer.</p> - -<p>At last they awoke.</p> - -<p>"Where are we, Evroult?"</p> - -<p>It was some moments before they realised where they were—not an -uncommon thing when one awakes in the morning in a strange place.</p> - -<p>Soon, however, they bethought themselves of the circumstances under -which they stood, and rising from their couch, arranged their apparel, -passed their fingers through their hair in lieu of comb, rubbed their -sleepy eyes, and came into the outer cave, where the hermit crouched -before the fire acting the part of cook.</p> - -<p>He heard them, and stood up.</p> - -<p>"<i>Pax vobiscum</i>, my children, ye look better this morning; here is your -breakfast, come and eat it, and then we will talk."</p> - -<p>"Have you no meat?" Evroult was going to say, but the natural instinct -of a gentleman checked him. They had fed well at the lazar-house, but -better oaten cakes and liberty.</p> - -<p>"Oh what nice nuts," said Richard; "and blackberries, too."</p> - -<p>The hermit's eyes sparkled as he noted the sweet smile which accompanied -the words. The face of the younger boy was untouched by the leprosy. -They satisfied their hunger, and then began to talk.</p> - -<p>"Father, how long may we stay here?"</p> - -<p>"As long as you like—God has sent you hither."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p><p>"But we want to get to Wallingford Castle."</p> - -<p>"No! no! brother: let us stay here," said the younger and milder boy; -"think how every one hates us; that terrible day yesterday—oh, it was a -terrible day! they treated us as if we had been mad dogs or worse."</p> - -<p>"Yes, we will stay, father, at least for a while, if you will let us; we -are not a poor man's sons—not English, but Normans; our father is——"</p> - -<p>"Never mind, my child—gentle or simple is all one to God, and all one -here. Did your father then send you to the lazar-house?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, three years agone."</p> - -<p>"And has he ever sought you since?"</p> - -<p>"No, he has never been to see us—he has forgotten us; we were there for -life; we knew and felt it, and only a week ago strove to drown ourselves -in the deep pond."</p> - -<p>"That was very wrong—no one may put down the burden of the flesh, till -God give him leave."</p> - -<p>"Do you think you can cure us?"</p> - -<p>"Life and death, sickness and health, are all in God's hands. I will -try."</p> - -<p>Their poor wan faces lit up with joy.</p> - -<p>"And this hole in my cheek?"</p> - -<p>"But my poor fingers, two are gone; you cannot give them me back," and -Richard burst into tears.</p> - -<p>"Come, my child, you must not cry—God loves you and will never leave -nor forsake you. Every cloud has its bright side; what if you have -little part in the wicked world?"</p> - -<p>"But I <i>love</i> the world," said Evroult.</p> - -<p>"Love the world! Do you really love fighting and bloodshed, fire and -sword? for they are the chief things to be found therein just now."</p> - -<p>"Yes I do; my father is a warrior, and so would I be," said the -unblushing Evroult.</p> - -<p>"And thou, Richard?"</p> - -<p>"I hardly know," said he of the meeker spirit and milder mood.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span></p><p>"Come, ye children, and hearken unto me, and I will teach you the fear -of the Lord."</p> - -<p>"Slaves fear."</p> - -<p>"Ah, but it is not the fear of a <i>slave</i>, but a <i>son</i> of which I -speak—that fear which is the beginning of wisdom; and which, indeed, -every true knight should possess if he fulfil the vows of chivalry. But -I will not say more now. Wander in the woods if you like, just around -the cave, or down in the valley; gather nuts or blackberries, but go not -far, for fear ye meet men who may ill-treat you."</p> - -<p>Then the hermit went forth, and threw the crumbs out of his cave; the -birds came in flocks. Evroult caught up a stone.</p> - -<p>"Nay, my child, they are <i>my</i> birds; we hurt nothing here. See! come, -pet! birdie!" and a large blackbird nestled on his shoulder, and picked -at a crust which the hermit took in his hand.</p> - -<p>"They all love me, as they love all who are kind to them. Birds and -beasts are alike welcome here; some wolves came in the winter, but they -did me no harm."</p> - -<p>"I should have shot them, if I had had a bow."</p> - -<p>"Nay, my child, you must not slay my friends."</p> - -<p>"But may we not kill rabbits or birds to eat?"</p> - -<p>"No flesh is eaten here; we sacrifice no life of living thing to sustain -our own wretched selves."</p> - -<p>"No meat! not of any kind! not even on feast-days!"</p> - -<p>"My boy, you will be better without it—it nourishes all sorts of bad -passions, pride, cruelty, impurity, all are born of the flesh; and -<i>see</i>, it is not needed. I am well and strong and never ill."</p> - -<p>"But I should soon be," said Evroult.</p> - -<p>"Nay, I like cakes, nuts, and blackberries better," said Richard.</p> - -<p>"Quite right, my son; now go and play in the valley beneath, until -noonday, when you may take your noon meat."</p> - -<p>They lay in the shade of a tree. It was one of the last<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> days of summer, -and all seemed pleasant—the murmur of the brook and the like.</p> - -<p>"I can never bear this long," said Evroult.</p> - -<p>"I think it very pleasant," said Richard; "do not ask me to go away."</p> - -<p>Evroult made no reply.</p> - -<p>"It is no use, brother," said Richard, "<i>no</i> use; we can never be -knights and warriors unless we recover of our leprosy; and so the good -God has given us a home and a kind friend, and it is far better than the -lazar-house."</p> - -<p>"But our father?"</p> - -<p>"He has forsaken us, cast us off. We should never get out with his -permission. No! be content, let us stay here—yesterday frightened -me—we should never reach Wallingford alive."</p> - -<p>And so Evroult gave way, and tried his best to be content—tried to -learn of Meinhold, tried to do without meat, to love birds and beasts, -instead of shooting them, tried to learn his catechism; yes, there was -always a form of catechetical instruction for the young, taught -generally <i>viva voce</i>, and the good hermit gave much time to the boys -and found delight therein.</p> - -<p>Richard consented to learn to read and write; Evroult disdained it, and -would not learn.</p> - -<p>So the year passed on; autumn deepened into winter. There was plenty of -fuel about, and the boys suffered little from cold; they hung up skins -and coverings over the entrances to the caves, and kept the draught out.</p> - -<p>There was a mystery about those inner caves; the hermit would never let -them enter beyond the two or three outer ones—those dark and dismal -openings were, he assured them, untenanted; but their windings were such -that the boys might easily lose their way therein, and never get out -again—he thought there were precipitous gulfs into which they might -fall.</p> - -<p>But sometimes at night, when all things were still, the strangest sounds -came from the caves, like the sobbings of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> living things, the plaintive -sigh, the hollow groan: and the boys heard and shuddered.</p> - -<p>"It is only the wind in the hollows of the earth," said Meinhold.</p> - -<p>"How does it get in?" asked the boys.</p> - -<p>"There are doubtless many crevices which we know not."</p> - -<p>"I thought there were ghosts there."</p> - -<p>"Nay, my child. It is only the wind: sleep in peace."</p> - -<p>But as the winter storms grew frequent, these deep sighs and hollow -groans seemed to increase, and the boys lay and shuddered, while -sometimes even the hermit was fain to cross himself, and say a prayer -for any poor souls who might be in unrest.</p> - -<p>The winter was long and cold, but spring came at last. The change of air -had worked wonders in the general health of the boys, but the leprosy -had not gone: no, it could not really be said that there was any change -for the better.</p> - -<p>Only the poor boys were far happier than at Byfield; they entered into -the ideas and ways of the hermit more and more. Evroult at last -consented to learn to read, and found time pass more rapidly in -consequence.</p> - -<p>But he could not do one thing—he could not subdue those occasional -bursts of passion which seemed to be rooted in the very depths of his -nature. When things crossed him he often showed his fierce disposition, -and terrified his brother; who, although brave enough,—how could one of -such a breed be a coward,—stood in awe of the hermit, and saw things -with the new light the Gospel afforded more and more each day.</p> - -<p>One day the old hermit read to them the passage wherein it is written, -"If a man smite you on one cheek, turn to him the other." Evroult could -not restrain his dissent.</p> - -<p>"If I did that I should be a coward, and my father, for one, would -despise me. If <i>that</i> is the Gospel, I shall never be a real Christian, -nor are there many about."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p><p>"I would, my son, that you had grace, to think differently. These be -counsels of perfection, given by our Lord Himself to His disciples."</p> - -<p>"I could not turn the other cheek to my enemy to save my life."</p> - -<p>"Then let him smite you on the <i>same</i> one."</p> - -<p>"I could not do that either," said Evroult more sharply.</p> - -<p>"If you cannot, at least do not return evil for evil."</p> - -<p>"I should if I had the power."</p> - -<p>"My child, it is the devil in you which makes you say that."</p> - -<p>Evroult turned red with passion, and Richard began to cry.</p> - -<p>"Nay, my child, do not cry; that is useless. Pray for him," said the -hermit.</p> - -<p>Another time Evroult craved flesh.</p> - -<p>"No, my son," said Meinhold, "when a man fills himself with flesh, -straightway the great vices bubble out. I remember a monk who one Lent -went secretly and bought some venison from a wicked gamekeeper, and put -it in his wallet; when lo! as he was returning home, the dogs, smelling -the flesh, fell upon him, and tore him up as well as the meat."</p> - -<p>"Why is it wrong to eat meat? The Chaplain at Byfield told me that the -Bible said it was lawful at proper times, and this is not Lent."</p> - -<p>"It is always Lent here,—in a hermit's cell,—and it is a duty to be -contented with one's food. I knew a monk who grumbled at his fare and -said he would as soon eat toads; and lo! the just God did not disappoint -him of his desire. For a month and more his cell was filled with toads. -They got into his soup, they jumped upon his plate, they filled his bed, -until I think he would have died, had not all the brethren united in -prayer that he might be free from the scourge."</p> - -<p>Evroult laughed merrily at this, and forgot his craving. In short, the -old man was so loving and kind,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> and so transparently sincere, that he -could not be angry long.</p> - -<p>Another fault Evroult had was vanity. Once he was admiring himself in -the mirror of a stream, for he really was, but for the leprosy, a -handsome lad. "Ah, my child," said Meinhold, "thou art like a house -which has a gay front, but the thieves have got in by the back door."</p> - -<p>"Nay," said poor Evroult, putting his hand to his hollowed cheek, "they -have broken through the front window."</p> - -<p>"Ah, what of that; the house shall be set in order by and by, if thou -art a good lad."</p> - -<p>He meant in Heaven. But Evroult only sighed. Heaven seemed to him far -off: his longings were of the earth.</p> - -<p>And Richard: well, that supernatural influence we call "grace" had found -him in very deed. He grew less and less discontented with his lot; -murmured no more about the lost fingers; scarcely noticed the fact that -the others were going; but drank in all the hermit's talk about the life -beyond, with the growing conviction that there alone should he regain -even the perfection of the body. One effect of his touching resignation -was this, that the hermit conceived so much love towards him, that he -had to pray daily against idolatry, as he fancied the affection for an -earthly object must needs be, and so restrained it that there was little -fear of his spoiling the boy.</p> - -<p>The hermit, who, as we have seen, was a priest, had hitherto been -restrained by the canons from saying Mass alone, and had sought some -rustic church for Communion. Of course he could not take the young -lepers there, so he celebrated the Holy Mysteries in a third cave, -fitted up as best it might be for a chapel, and the boys assisted. One -would think Nature had designed this third cave for a chapel. There was -a natural recess for the altar; there were fantastic pillars like those -in a cathedral, only more irregular, supporting the roof, which was -lofty; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> stalactites, graceful as the pendants in an ice-cavern, hung -from above.</p> - -<p>They never saw other human beings, save now and then some grief-stricken -soul came for spiritual advice and assistance, always given without -their dwelling, with the stream between the hermit and the seeker. For -leprosy was known to be in the cave, and it was commonly reported that -Meinhold had paid the natural penalty of his self-devotion.</p> - -<p>It was too true.</p> - -<p>One day Evroult saw him looking at a red burning spot on his palm.</p> - -<p>He recognised it and burst into tears.</p> - -<p>"Father, you have given yourself for us: I wish the dogs had torn me -before I came here."</p> - -<p>"Christ gave Himself for me," said Meinhold quietly.</p> - -<p>"Did you not know it, Evroult? I knew it long ago," said Richard -quietly. It seemed natural to him that one who loved the Good Shepherd -should give his life for the sheep. But the sweet smile with which he -looked into the hermit's face was quite as touching as Evroult's tears.</p> - -<p>The hermit was quite indifferent to the fact.</p> - -<p>"As well this as any other way," he said; yet the affection of the boys -was pleasant to him.</p> - -<p>They lacked not for food. The people of the neighbouring farms, some -distance across the forest, sent presents of milk and eggs and fruit -from time to time, and of other necessaries. They had once been boldly -offered: now they were set down on the other side of the stream and -left.</p> - -<p>Occasionally hunters—the neighbouring barons—broke the silence with -hound and horn. They generally avoided the hermit's glen—conspicuously -devoted to the peace of God; but once a poor flying stag, pursued by the -hounds, came tearing down the vale. Evroult glistened with animation: he -would have rushed on in the train of the huntsmen, but the hermit -restrained him.</p> - -<p>"They would bid their dogs tear you," he said, "when<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> they saw you were -a leper." Then he continued, "Ah, my child, it is a sad sight: sin -brought all this into the world,—God's creatures delighting to rend -each other; so will the fiends hunt the souls of the wicked after death, -until they drive them into the lake of fire."</p> - -<p>"Ah, here comes the poor deer," said Richard, who had caught the -hermit's love of all that moved. "See, he has turned: open the door, -father."</p> - -<p>The deer actually scaled the plateau, wild with terror,—its eyes -glaring, the sweat bedewing its limbs; and it rushed through the opened -door of the cave.</p> - -<p>"Close the door—the dogs will be here."</p> - -<p>The dogs came in truth, and raved about the closed door until the -huntsmen came up, when the hermit emerged upon a ledge above.</p> - -<p>"Where is our deer? hast thou seen it, father?"</p> - -<p>"It has taken sanctuary."</p> - -<p>They looked at each other.</p> - -<p>"Nay, father, sanctuary is not for such creatures: drive it forth."</p> - -<p>"God forbid! the shadow of the Cross protects it. Call off your dogs and -go your way."</p> - -<p>"Let us force the door," said a rough sportsman.</p> - -<p>"Accursed be he who does so; his light shall be extinguished in -darkness," said the hermit.</p> - -<p>"Come, there are more deer than one;" and the knight called off his dogs -with great difficulty.</p> - -<p>"Thou hast done well: so shall it be for thy good in time of need, Sir -Knight."</p> - -<p>"I would sooner fight the deadliest fight I have ever fought than -violate that sanctuary," said the latter; "a curse would be sure to -follow."</p> - -<p>When the hunters had at last taken themselves away, dogs and all, and -the discontented whines and howls of the hounds and the crack of the -huntsman's whip had ceased to disturb the silence of the dell, the -hermit and the boys went in to look at the deer: he had thrown <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>himself -down, or fallen, panting, in the boys' bed of leaves, and turned piteous -yet confiding eyes on them, large and lustrous, which seemed to implore -pity, and to say, "I know you will not let them hurt me."</p> - -<p>The better instinct of Evroult was touched.</p> - -<p>"Well, my son," said the hermit, "dost thou still crave for flesh? Shall -we kill him and roast some venison collops?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Evroult, with energy.</p> - -<p>"Ah, I thought so, thou art learning compassion: 'Blessed are the -merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.'"</p> - -<p>"Brother," said Richard, "let us try and get that blessing."</p> - -<p>Evroult pressed his hand.</p> - -<p>And when it was dark and all was quiet, they let the deer go. The poor -beast, as if it had reason, almost refused to depart, and licked their -hands as if it knew its protectors, as doubtless it did.</p> - -<p>But we must close this chapter, having begun the sketch of a life which -continued uneventfully for two full years.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>Here ends the first part of our tale. We must leave the boys with the -good hermit; Osric learning the usages of war, and other things, under -the fostering care of Brian Fitz-Count; Wulfnoth as a novice at -Dorchester; and so allow a period to pass ere our scattered threads reunite.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XV<a name="FNanchor_19_19" id="FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></span> <span class="smaller">THE ESCAPE FROM OXFORD CASTLE</span></h2> - -<p>Two years had passed away, and it was the last week of Advent, in the -year of our Lord 1141.</p> - -<p>The whole land lay under a covering of deep snow, the frost was keen and -intense, the streams were ice-bound when they could be seen, for -generally snow had drifted<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> and filled their channels; only the ice on -the Thames, wind-swept, could be discerned.</p> - -<p>Through the dense woods of Newenham, which overhung the river, about -three miles above the Abbey Town (Abingdon), at the close of the brief -winter's day, a youth might have been seen making his way (it was not -made for him) through the dense undergrowth towards the bed of the -stream.</p> - -<p>He was one of Dame Nature's most favoured striplings,—tall and straight -as an arrow, with a bright smile and sunny face, wherein large blue eyes -glistened under dark eyebrows; his hair was dark, his features shapely, -his face, however, sunburnt and weather-beaten, although he only -numbered eighteen years.</p> - -<p>Happily unseen, for in those days the probability was that every -stranger was a foe to be avoided, and for such foes our young friend was -not unprepared; it is true, he wore a simple woollen tunic, bound round -by a girdle, but underneath was a coat of the finest chain-armour, proof -against shafts, and in his hand he had a boar-spear, while a short sword -was suspended in its sheath, from his belt.</p> - -<p>Fool indeed would one have been, whether gentle or simple, to traverse -that district, or indeed any other district of "Merrie" England, unarmed -in the year 1141, and our Osric was not such a simple one.</p> - -<p>He has "aged" since we last saw him. He is quite the young warrior now. -The sweet simplicity, begotten of youth and seclusion, is no longer -there, yet there is nought to awaken distrust. He is not yet a knight, -but he is the favourite squire of Brian Fitz-Count—that terrible lord, -and has been the favourite ever since Alain passed over to the immediate -service of the Empress Queen.</p> - -<p>We will not describe him further—his actions shall speak for him; and -if he be degenerate, tell of his degeneracy.</p> - -<p>As he descended the hill towards the stream, a startling interruption -occurred; a loud snarl, and a wolf—yes, there<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> were wolves in England -then—snapped at him: he had trodden on her lair.</p> - -<p>Quick as thought the boar-spear was poised, and the animal slank away, -rejecting the appeal to battle. For why? She knew there were plenty of -corpses about unburied for her to eat, and if they were not quite so -sweet as Osric's fair young flesh, they would be obtained without -danger. Such was doubtless wolfish philosophy.</p> - -<p>He passed on, not giving a second thought to an adventure which would -fill the mind of a modern youth for hours—but he was hardened to -adventures, and <i>blasé</i> of them. So he took them as a matter of course -and as the ordinary incidents of life: it was a time of carnage, when -the "survival of the fittest" was being worked out amongst our -ancestors.</p> - -<p>"Ah, here is the river at last," he said to himself, "and now I know my -way: the ice will bear me safely enough, and I shall have an easier -road; although I must be careful, for did I get in, I could hardly swim -in this mail-shirt."</p> - -<p>So he stopped, and taking a pair of rude skates from his wallet, bound -them to his iron-clad shoes, and skated up stream—through a desolate -country.</p> - -<p>Anon the grim old castle of the Harcourts frowned down upon him from the -height where their modern mansion now stands. The sentinels saw him and -sent an arrow after him, but it was vain defiance—the river was beyond -arrow shot, and they only sent one, because it was the usual playful -habit of the day to shoot at strangers, young or old. Every man's hand -was against every man.</p> - -<p>They did not think the dimly discerned stranger, scudding up stream, -worth pursuit, especially as it was getting dark, and the snow drifts -were dangerous. So they let him go, not exactly with a benediction.</p> - -<p>And soon he was opposite the village of Sandford, or rather where the -village should have been; but it was burnt to the very ground—not a -house or hovel was standing; not a dog barked, for there were no dogs -left to bark;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> nor was any living creature to be seen. Soon Iffley, -another scene of desolation, was in sight; but here there were people. -The old Norman Church, the same the voyager still sees, and stops to -examine, was standing, and was indeed the only edifice to be seen: all -else was blackened ruin, or would have been did not the snow mercifully -cover it.</p> - -<p>Here our young friend left the river, and taking off his rude skates, -ascended the bank to the church by a well-trodden path, and pushed open -the west door.</p> - -<p>He gazed upon a scene to which this age happily affords no parallel. The -church was full, but not of worshippers; two or three fires blazed upon -the stone pavement, and the smoke, eddying upwards, made its exit -through holes purposely broken in the roof for that end; around each -fire sat or squatted groups of men, women, and children—hollow-eyed, -famine-pinched, plague-stricken, or the like. There was hardly a face -amongst them which distress had not deprived of any beauty it might once -have possessed. Many a household was there—father, mother, sons and -daughters, from the stripling to the babe. The altar and sanctuary were -alone respected: a screen then divided them from the nave, and the gate -was jealously locked, opened only each day when the parish priest, who -lived in the old tower above, still faithful to his duty, went in at -dawn, and said Mass; while the poor wretched creatures forgot their -misery for a while, and worshipped.</p> - -<p>Osric passed, unquestioned, through the groups,—the church was a -sanctuary to all,—and at last he reached the chancel gate. A youth of -his own age leant against it.</p> - -<p>"Osric."</p> - -<p>"Alain."</p> - -<p>They left the church together, and sought a solitary place on the brink -of the hill above.</p> - -<p>Where the modern tourist often surveys the city from the ridge of Rose -Hill, our friends gazed. The city, great even then, lay within its -protecting rivers and its new<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> walls, dominated by the huge keep of the -castle of Robert d'Oyley which the reader still may see from the line, -as he nears the city.</p> - -<p>But what a different scene it looked down upon. The moon illumined its -gray walls, and the fires of the besiegers shone with a lurid glare -about the city and within its streets, while the white, ghostly country -environed it around.</p> - -<p>"Thou hast kept thy tryst, Osric."</p> - -<p>"And thou thine, Alain; but thine was the hardest. How didst thou get -out? by the way we agreed upon before I left Oxford?"</p> - -<p>"It was a hard matter. The castle is beleaguered, the usurper is there, -and that treacherous priest, his brother, says a sort of black Mass -every day in the camp: the city is all their own, and only the castle -holds out."</p> - -<p>"And how is our lady?"</p> - -<p>"Poor Domina,<a name="FNanchor_20_20" id="FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> as she signs herself. Ah, well, she shall not starve -while there is a fragment of food in the neighbourhood, but, Oh, Osric! -hunger is hard to bear; fortunate wert thou to be chosen to accompany -our lord in that desperate sally a month agone which took you all safely -to Wallingford. But what news dost thou bring?"</p> - -<p>"That the great Earl of Gloucester and Henry Plantagenet have landed in -England, and will await the Empress at Wallingford if she can escape -from Oxford."</p> - -<p>"I can get out myself, as thou seest, and have been able to keep our -tryst, but the Empress—how can we risk her life so precious to us all? -Osric, she must descend by <i>ropes</i>, and to-day my hands were so frozen -by the cold that I almost let go, and should have fallen full fifty feet -had I done so; but for a woman—even if, like 'Domina,' she be more than -woman—it will be parlous difficult."</p> - -<p>"It must be tried, for no more reinforcements have appeared: we are -wofully disappointed."</p> - -<p>"And so are we: day by day we have hoped to see<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> your pennons advancing -over the frozen snow to our rescue. Alas! it was nought we saw, save -bulrushes and sedges. Then day by day we hear the trumpets blow, and the -usurper summons us to surrender, without terms, to his discretion."</p> - -<p>"We will see him perish first," said Osric. "Hear our plans. If thou -canst persuade the lady to descend from the tower, and cross the stream -at the midnight after to-morrow, we will have a troop on the outskirts -of Bagley wood, to escort the precious freight to Wallingford, in spite -of all her foes, or we will die in her defence."</p> - -<p>"It is well spoken; and I think I may safely say that it shall be -attempted."</p> - -<p>"And the Baron advises that ye all wear white woollen tunics like mine, -as less likely to be distinguished in the snow, and withal warm."</p> - -<p>"We have many such tunics in the castle. At midnight to-morrow the risk -will be run, you may depend upon it. See, the Domina has entrusted me -with her signet, that you may see that I am a sort of plenipotentiary."</p> - -<p>"And now farewell. Canst thou find thy way through the darkness to -Wallingford? Oxford is near at hand."</p> - -<p>"Nay, I shall rest in the church to-night, and depart at dawn: I should -lose my way in the snow."</p> - -<p>"After Mass, I suppose," said Alain sarcastically.</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Osric, blushing. He was getting ashamed of the relics of his -religious observances; "but Mass and meat, you know, hinder no man. I -shall be at Wallingford ere noon, and the horse will start about the -dusk of the evening. God speed thee." And they parted.</p> - -<p>The Castle of Oxford was one of the great strongholds of the Midlands. -Its walls and bastions enclosed a large area, whereon stood the Church -of St. George. On one side was the Mound, thrown up in far earlier days -than those of which we write, by Ethelflæda, sister of Alfred, and near -it the huge tower of Robert d'Oyley, which still survives, a stern and -silent witness of the unquiet past.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> In an upper chamber of that tower -was the present apartment of the warlike lady, alike the descendant of -Alfred and the Conqueror, and the unlike daughter of the sainted Queen -Margaret of Scotland. And there she sat, at the time when Osric met -Alain at Iffley Church, impatiently awaiting the return of her favourite -squire, for such was Alain, whose youthful comeliness and gallant -bearing had won her heart.</p> - -<p>"He tarries long: he cometh not," she said. "Tell me, my Edith, how long -has he been gone?"</p> - -<p>"Scarce three hours, madam, and he has many dangers to encounter. -Perchance he may never return."</p> - -<p>"Now the Saints confound thy boding tongue."</p> - -<p>"Madam!"</p> - -<p>"Why, forsooth, should he be unfortunate? so active, so brave, so sharp -of wit."</p> - -<p>"I only meant that he is mortal."</p> - -<p>"So are we all—but dost thou, therefore, expect to die to-day?"</p> - -<p>"Father Herluin says we all should live as if we did, madam."</p> - -<p>"You will wear my life out. Well, yes, a convent will be the best place -for thee."</p> - -<p>"Nay, madam."</p> - -<p>"Hold thy peace, if thou canst say nought but 'nay,'" said the irascible -Domina.</p> - -<p>Her temper, her irritability and impatience, had alienated many from her -cause. Perchance it would have alienated Alain like the rest, only he -was a favourite, and she was seldom sharp with him.</p> - -<p>How like her father she was in her bearing! even in her undress, for she -wore only a thick woollen robe, stained, by the art of the dyers, in -colours as various as those of the robe Jacob made for Joseph. Sometimes -it flew open, and displayed an inner vesture of rich texture, bound -round with a golden zone or girdle; and around her head, confining her -luxuriant hair, was a circlet of like precious metal, which did duty for -a diadem.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p><p>Little of her sainted mother was there in the Empress Queen; far more -of her stern grandfather, the Conqueror.</p> - -<p>The chamber, of irregular dimensions, was lighted by narrow loopholes. -There was a hearth and a chimney, and a brazier of wood and charcoal -burned brightly. Even then the air was cold, for it was many degrees -below the freezing point, not that they as yet knew how to measure the -temperature.</p> - -<p>She sat and glowered at the grate, as the light departed, and the winter -night set in, dark and gloomy. More than once she approached the -windows, or loopholes, and looked upon the ruined city in the chill and -intermittent moonlight.</p> - -<p>It was nearly <i>all</i> in ruins. Here and there a church tower rose intact; -here and there a lordly dwelling; but fire and sword had swept it. -Neither party regarded the sufferings of the poor. Sometimes the -besiegers made a fire in sport, and warmed themselves by the blaze of a -burgher's dwelling, nor recked how far it spread. Sometimes, as we have -said, the besieged made a sally, and set fire to the buildings which -sheltered their foes. Whichever prevailed, the citizens suffered; but -little recked their oppressors.</p> - -<p>From her elevated chamber Maude could see the watch-fires of the foe in -a wide circle around, but she was accustomed to the sight, tired of it, -in fact, and her one desire was to escape to Wallingford, a far more -commodious and stronger castle.</p> - -<p>In Frideswide, of which she could discern the towers, which as yet had -escaped the conflagration, were the headquarters of her rival, who was -living there at ease on the fat of the land, such fat as was left, at -the expense of the monastic community. And while she gazed, she clenched -her dainty fist, and shook it at the unheeding Stephen, while she -muttered unwomanly imprecations.</p> - -<p>And while she was thus engaged, they brought up her supper. It consisted -of a stew of bones, which had already been well stripped of their flesh -at "the noon-meat."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p><p>"We are reduced to bones, and shall soon be nought but bones ourselves; -but our gallant defenders, I fear, fare worse. Here, Edith, Hilda, bring -your spoons and take your share."</p> - -<p>And with small wooden spoons they dipped into the royal dish.</p> - -<p>A step on the stairs and the chamberlain knocked, and at her bidding -entered. "Lady, the gallant page has returned: how he entered I know -not."</p> - -<p>"He is unharmed?"</p> - -<p>"Scatheless, by the favour of God and St. Martin."</p> - -<p>"Let him enter at once."</p> - -<p>And Alain appeared.</p> - -<p>"My gallant squire, how hast thou fared? I feared for thee."</p> - -<p>"They keep bad watch. A rope lowered me to the stream: I crossed, and -seeking covered ways, gat me to Iffley, and in like fashion returned. I -bear good news, lady! Thy gallant brother of Gloucester, and the Prince, -thy son, have landed in England, and will meet thee at Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"Thank God!" said Maude. "My Henry, my royal boy, I shall see thee -again. With such hope to cheer a mother's heart, I can dare anything. -Well hast thou earned our thanks, my Alain, my gallant squire."</p> - -<p>"The Lord of Wallingford will send a troop of horse to scout on the road -between Abingdon and Oxford to-morrow night, the Eve of St. Thomas."</p> - -<p>"We will meet them if it be possible—if it be in human power."</p> - -<p>"The river is free—all other roads are blocked."</p> - -<p>"But hast thou considered the difficulties of descent?"</p> - -<p>"They are great, lady: it was easy for me to descend by the rope, but -for thee, alas, that my queen should need such expedients!"</p> - -<p>"It is better than starvation. We are reduced to the bones, as thou -seest; but thou art hungry and faint. Let<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> me order a basin of this -<i>savoury</i> stew for thee; it is all we have to offer."</p> - -<p>"What is good enough for my Empress and Queen, is good enough for her -faithful servants; but I may not eat in thy presence."</p> - -<p>"Nay, scruple not; famine effaces distinctions."</p> - -<p>Thus encouraged, Alain did not allow his scruples to interfere further -with his appetite, and partook heartily of the stew of bones, in which, -forsooth, the water and meal were in undue proportion to the meat.</p> - -<p>The meal despatched, the Empress sent Alain to summon the Earl of -Oxford, Robert d'Oyley, to her presence. He was informed of the arrival -of the Earl and the Prince, and the plan of escape was discussed.</p> - -<p>All the ordinary avenues of the castle were watched so closely that -extraordinary expedients were necessary, and the only feasible mode of -escape appeared to be the difficult road which Alain had used -successfully, both in leaving and returning to the beleaguered fortress.</p> - -<p>A branch of the Isis washed the walls of the tower. It was frozen hard. -To descend by ropes upon it in the darkness, and cross to the opposite -side of the stream, appeared the only mode of egress.</p> - -<p>But for a lady—the Lady of England—was it possible? was it not utterly -unworthy of her dignity?</p> - -<p>She put this objection aside like a cobweb.</p> - -<p>"Canst thou hold out the castle much longer?"</p> - -<p>"At the most, another week; our provisions are nearly exhausted. This -was our last meal of flesh, of which I see the bones before me," replied -the Lord of Oxford.</p> - -<p>"Then if I remain, thou must still surrender?"</p> - -<p>"Surrender is <i>inevitable</i>, lady."</p> - -<p>"Then sooner would I infringe my dignity by dangling from a rope, than -become the prisoner of the foul usurper Stephen, and the laughing-stock -of his traitorous barons."</p> - -<p>"Sir Ingelric of Huntercombe, and two other knights, besides thy gallant -page, volunteer to accompany thee, lady."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span></p><p>"And for thyself?"</p> - -<p>"I must remain to the last, and share the fortunes of my vassals. -Without me, they would find scant mercy from the usurpers."</p> - -<p>"Then, to-morrow night, ere the moon rise, the attempt shall be made."</p> - -<p>And the conference broke up.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>It was a night of wildering snow, dark and gloomy. The soft, dry, -powdery material found its way in at each crevice, and the wind made the -tapestry, which hung on the walls of the presence chamber of the "Lady -Maude," oscillate to and fro with each blast.</p> - -<p>Robert d'Oyley was alone in deep consultation with his royal mistress.</p> - -<p>"Then if I can escape, thou wilt surrender?"</p> - -<p>"Nought else is to be done; we are starving."</p> - -<p>"They will burn the castle."</p> - -<p>"There is little to burn, and I hardly think they will attempt that: it -will be useful to them, when in their hands."</p> - -<p>"It is near the midnight hour: the attempt must be made. Now summon -young Alain and my faithful knights."</p> - -<p>They entered at the summons, each clothed in fine mail, with a white -tunic above it. The Empress bid adieu to her handmaidens, who had clad -her in a thick white cloak to match: they wept and wailed, but she -gently chid them—</p> - -<p>"We have suffered worse things: the coffin and hearse in which we left -Devizes was more ghastly; and God will give an end to these troubles -also: fear not, we are prepared to go through with it."</p> - -<p>A small door was opened in the thickness of the wall; it led to the -roof, over a lower portion of the buildings beneath the shadow of the -tower; and the knights, with Alain and their lady, stood on the -snow-covered summit.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p><p>Not long did they hesitate. The river beneath was frozen hard; it lay -silent and still in its ice-bound sepulchre. The darkness was penetrated -by the light of the watch-fires in all directions: they surrounded the -town on all sides, save the one they had not thought it necessary to -guard against. There was a fire and doubtless a watch over the bridge, -which stood near the actual site of the present Folly Bridge. There was -a watch across Hythe Bridge; there was another on the ruins of the -castle mill, which Earl Algar had held, under the Domesday survey; -another at the principal entrance of the castle, which led from the -city. But the extreme cold of the night had driven the majority of the -besiegers to seek shelter in the half-ruined churches, which, long -attuned to the sweet melody of bells and psalmody, had now become the -bivouacs of profane soldiers.</p> - -<p>The Countess Edith, the wife of Robert d'Oyley, now appeared, shivering -in the keen air, and took an affectionate leave of the Empress, while -her teeth chattered the while. A true woman, she shared her husband's -fortunes for weal or woe, and had endured the horrors of the siege. -Ropes were brought—Alain glided down one to the ice, and held it firm. -Another rope was passed beneath the armpits of the Lady Maude. She -grasped another in her gloved hand, to steady her descent.</p> - -<p>"Farewell, true and trusty friend," she said to Robert of Oxford; "had -all been as faithful as thou, I had never been brought to this pass; if -they hurt thy head, they shall pay with a life for every hair it -contains."</p> - -<p>Then she stepped over the battlements.</p> - -<p>For one moment she gave a womanly shudder at the sight of the blackness -below; then yielding herself to the care of her trusty knights and -shutting her eyes, she was lowered safely to the surface of the frozen -stream, while young Alain steadied the rope below. At last her feet -touched the ice.</p> - -<p>"Am I on the ground?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p><p>"On the ice, Domina."</p> - -<p>One after another the three knights followed her, and they descended the -stream until it joined the main river at a farm called "The Wick," which -formerly belonged to one Ermenold, a citizen of Oxford, immortalised in -the abbey records of Abingdon for his munificence to that community.</p> - -<p>Now they had crossed the main channel in safety, not far below the -present railway bridge, and landing, struck out boldly for the outskirts -of Bagley, where the promised escort was to have met them. But in the -darkness and the snow, they lost their direction, and came at last over -the frozen fields to Kennington, where they indistinctly saw two or -three lights through the fast-falling snow, but dared not approach them, -fearing foes.</p> - -<p>Vainly they strove to recover the track. The country was all alike—all -buried beneath one ghastly winding-sheet. The snow still fell; the air -was calm and keen; the breath froze on the mufflers of the lady. Onward -they trudged, for to hesitate was death; once or twice that ghastly -inclination to lie down and sleep was felt.</p> - -<p>"If I could only lie down for one half hour!" said Maude.</p> - -<p>"You would never wake again, lady," said Bertram of Wallingford; "we -<i>must</i> move on."</p> - -<p>"Nay, I must sleep."</p> - -<p>"For thy son's sake," whispered Alain; and she persevered.</p> - -<p>"Ah! here is the river; take care."</p> - -<p>They had nearly fallen into a diversion of the stream at Sandford; but -they followed the course of the river, until they reached Radley, and -then they heard the distant bell of the famous abbey ringing for Matins, -which were said in the small hours of the night.</p> - -<p>Here they found some kind of track made by the passage of cattle, which -had been driven towards the town, and followed it until they saw the -lights of the abbey dimly through the gloom.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p><p>Spent, exhausted with their toil, they entered the precincts of the -monastery, on the bed of the stream which, diverging from the main -course a mile above the town, turned the abbey mills and formed one of -its boundaries. Thus they avoided detention at the gateway of the town, -for they ascended from the stream within the monastery "pleasaunce."</p> - -<p>The grand church loomed out of the darkness; its windows were dimly -lighted. The Matins of St. Thomas were being sung, and the solemn -strains reached the ears of the weary travellers outside. The outer door -of the nave was unfastened, for the benefit of the laity, who cared more -for devotion than their beds, like the mother of the famous St. Edmund, -Archbishop of Canterbury, a century later, who used to attend these -Matins nightly.</p> - -<p>Our present party entered from a different motive. It was a welcome -shelter, and they sank upon an oaken bench within the door, while the -solemn sound of the Gregorian psalmody rolled on in the choir. Alain -meanwhile hastened to the hospitium to seek aid for the royal guest; -which he was told he would find in a hostel outside the gates, for -although they allowed female attendance at worship, they could not -entertain women; it was contrary to their rule—royal although the guest -might be.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_19_19" id="Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> The historical course of events during these two years may -be briefly summed up. The English at first embraced the cause of Maude -with alacrity, because of her descent from their ancient monarchs, and -so did most of the barons. A dire civil war followed, in which -multitudes of freebooters from abroad, under the name of "free lances," -took part in either side. Hereford, Gloucester, Bristol, Oxford, -Wallingford—all became centres of Maude's power; and at last, at the -great battle of Lincoln—the only great battle during the miserable -chaos of strife—Stephen became her prisoner. -</p><p> -Then she had nearly gained the crown: Henry, Bishop of Winchester, Papal -legate and brother of Stephen, joined her cause, and received her as -Queen at Winchester. The wife of King Stephen begged her husband's -liberty on her knees, promising that he should depart from the kingdom -and become a monk. But Maude was hard-hearted, and spurned her from her -presence, rejecting, to her own great detriment, the prayer of the -suppliant; and not only did she do this, but she also refused the -petition of Henry of Winchester, that the foreign possessions of Stephen -might pass to his son Eustace. In consequence, the Bishop abandoned her -cause, and Maude found that she had dashed the cup of fortune from her -hand by her harsh conduct, which at last became past bearing. She -refused the Londoners the confirmation of their ancient charters, -because they had submitted to the rule of Stephen; whereupon they rose, -<i>en masse</i>, against her, and drove her from the city. She hastened to -Winchester, but the Bishop followed, and drove her thence; and in the -flight Robert, Earl of Gloucester was captured. He was exchanged for -Stephen, both leaders were at liberty and the detestable strife began, -<i>de novo</i>.</p> - -<p>Then Maude took up her abode at Oxford, where Stephen came and besieged -her, as related in the text.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_20_20" id="Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> Maude did not venture to call herself Queen, but signed -her deeds Domina or Lady of England.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVI</span> <span class="smaller">AFTER THE ESCAPE</span></h2> - -<p>Meanwhile Brian Fitz-Count himself, with Osric by his side and a dozen -horsemen, rode to and fro on the road to Oxford, which passed through -the forest of Bagley; for to halt in the cold was impossible, and to -kindle a fire might attract the attention of foes, as well as of -friends. How they bore that weary night may not be told, but they were -more accustomed to such exposure than we are in these days.</p> - -<p>Again and again did Brian question Osric concerning the interview with -Alain, but of course to no further purpose; and they might have remained -till daylight had not they taken a shepherd, who was out to look after -his sheep, and brought him before the Count, pale and trembling, for it -was often death to the rustics to be seized by the armed bands.</p> - -<p>"Hast thou seen any travellers this night?"</p> - -<p>"I have, my lord, but they were not of this earth."</p> - -<p>"What then, fool?"</p> - -<p>"They were the ghosts of the slain, five of them, all in white, coming -up from the river, where the fight was a month agone."</p> - -<p>"And what didst thou do?"</p> - -<p>"Hid myself."</p> - -<p>"Where were they going?"</p> - -<p>"Towards Abingdon."</p> - -<p>"Men or women?"</p> - -<p>"One was muffled up like a lady; the others were like men, but all in -white."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span></p><p>"My lord," interrupted Osric, "I bore thy recommendation that they -should wear white garments, the better to escape observation in the -snow, and Alain promised me that such precaution should be taken: no -doubt the shepherd has seen them."</p> - -<p>"Which way were the ghosts going, shepherd?"</p> - -<p>"They were standing together, when all at once the boom of the abbey -bell came through the air from Abingdon, and then they made towards the -town, to seek their graves, for there many of the slain were buried."</p> - -<p>"<i>Requiescant in pace</i>," said Osric.</p> - -<p>"Peace, Osric; do not you know that if you pray for a living man or -woman as if they were dead, you hasten their demise?" said Brian -sarcastically. "Let the old fool go, and we will wend our weary way to -the abbey. They give sanctuary to either party."</p> - -<p>The snow ceased to fall about this time, and a long line of vivid red -appeared low down in the east: the snow caught the tinge of the coming -day, and was reddened like blood.</p> - -<p>"One would think there had been a mighty battle there, my squire."</p> - -<p>"It reminds me of the field of Armageddon, of which I heard the Chaplain -talk. I wonder whether it will come soon."</p> - -<p>"Dost thou believe in all those priestly pratings?"</p> - -<p>"My grandfather taught me to do so."</p> - -<p>"And the rough life of a castle has not yet made thee forget his -homilies?"</p> - -<p>"No," sighed Osric.</p> - -<p>The sigh touched the hardened man.</p> - -<p>"If he has faith, why should I destroy it?" Then he added as if almost -against his will—</p> - -<p>"Keep thy faith; I would I shared it."</p> - -<p>The fortifications of the town, the castle on the Oxford road, the -gateway hard by, came in sight at the next turn of the road, but Brian -avoided them, and sought a gate<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> lower down which admitted to the abbey -precincts, where he was not so likely to be asked inconvenient -questions.</p> - -<p>He bade one of his men ring the bell.</p> - -<p>The porter looked forth.</p> - -<p>"What manner of men are ye?"</p> - -<p>"Travellers lost in the snow come to seek the hospitality prescribed by -the rule of St. Benedict."</p> - -<p>"Enter," and the portal yawned: no names were asked, no political -distinctions recognised.</p> - -<p>They stood in the outer quadrangle of the hoar abbey, the stronghold of -Christianity in Wessex for five centuries past; and well had it -performed its task, and well had it deserved of England. Founded so long -ago that its origin was even then lost in conflicting traditions, -surviving wave after wave of war, burnt by the Danes, remodelled by the -Normans—yet this hoary island of prayer stood in the stream of time -unchanged in all its main features, and, as men thought, destined to -stand till the archangel's trump sounded the knell of time.</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"They built in marble, built as they</div> -<div>Who thought these stones should see the day</div> -<div>When Christ should come; and that these walls</div> -<div>Should stand o'er them when judgment calls."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Alas, poor monks, and alas for the country which lost the most glorious -of her architectural riches, the most august of her fanes, through the -greed of one generation!</p> - -<p>"Have any other travellers sought shelter here during the night?"</p> - -<p>"Five—a lady and four knights."</p> - -<p>"Where be they?"</p> - -<p>"The lady is lodged in a house without the eastern gate; the others are -in the guest-house, where thou mayst join them."</p> - -<p>Have my readers ever seen the outer quadrangle of Magdalene College? It -is not unlike the square of buildings in which the Baron and his -followers now stood. On three sides the monastic buildings, with -cloisters looking upon a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> green sward, wherein a frozen fountain was -surmounted by a cross; on the other, the noble church, of which almost -all trace is lost.</p> - -<p>In the hospitium or guest-house Brian found Sir Ingelric of Huntercombe, -with Alain and the other attendants upon the lady's flight. They met -with joy, and seated before a bright fire which burned upon the hearth, -learned the story of each other's adventures on that gruesome night, -which, however, had ended well. Osric had gone in charge of the horses -to some stables outside the gates, which opened upon the market-place, -but he now returned, and Alain greeted him warmly.</p> - -<p>Soon the <i>déjeûner</i> or breakfast was served, of which the chief feature -was good warm soup, very acceptable after the night they had passed -through. Scarcely was it over when the bells rang for the High Mass of -St. Thomas's Day.</p> - -<p>"Yes, we must all go," said Brian, "out of compliment to our hosts, if -for no better reason."</p> - -<p>They entered the church, of which the nave and transepts were open to -the general public, while the choir, as large as that of a cathedral -church, was reserved for the monks alone. The service was grand and -solemn: it began with a procession, during which holy water was -sprinkled over the congregation, while the monks sang—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Asperges me hyssopo et mundabor,</div> -<div>Lava me, et super nivem dealbabor."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Then followed the chanted Mass at the High Altar. There were gleaming -lights, gorgeous vestments, clouds of incense. All the symbolism of an -age when the worship of the English people was richer in ceremonial than -that of Continental nations was there. It impressed the minds of rude -warriors who could neither read nor write with the sense of a mysterious -world, other than their own—of dread realities and awful powers beyond -the reach of mortal warfare. If it appealed rather to the imagination -than the reason, yet it may be thought, it thereby reached<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> its mark the -more surely. The Church was still the salt of the earth, which preserved -the whole mass from utter corruption, and in a world of violence and -wrong, pointed to a land of peace and joy beyond this transitory scene.</p> - -<p>So felt Osric, and his eyes filled with tears as emotions he could -hardly analyse stirred his inmost soul.</p> - -<p>And Brian—well, he was as a man who views his natural face in a glass, -and going away, forgets what manner of man he was.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>After Mass the Empress Maude greeted her dear friend and faithful -follower Brian Fitz-Count with no stinted welcome. She almost fell upon -his shoulder, proud woman though she was, and wept, when assured she -should soon see her son, Prince Henry, at Wallingford, for she was but a -woman after all.</p> - -<p>She insisted upon an interview with the Abbot, from which Brian would -fain have dissuaded her, but she took the bit in her teeth.</p> - -<p>After a while that dignitary came, and bowed gracefully, but not low.</p> - -<p>"Dost thou know, lord Abbot, whom thou hast entertained?"</p> - -<p>"Perchance an Angel unawares: all mortals are equal within the Church's -gate."</p> - -<p>"Thy true Queen, who will not forget thy hospitality."</p> - -<p>"Nor would King Stephen, did he know that we had shown it, lady. I -reverence thy lofty birth, and wish thee well for the sake of thy -father, who was a great benefactor to this poor house: further I cannot -say; we know nought of earthly politics here—our citizenship is above."</p> - -<p>She did not appreciate his doctrines, but turned to Brian.</p> - -<p>"Have we any gold to leave as a benefaction in return for this -hospitality; it will purchase a Mass, which, doubtless, we need in these -slippery times, when it is difficult always to walk straight."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span></p><p>Brian drew forth his purse.</p> - -<p>"Lady, it needs not," said the Abbot; "thou art welcome, so are all the -unfortunate, rich or poor, who suffer in these cruel wars, to which may -God soon give an end."</p> - -<p>"Lay the blame, lord Abbot, on the usurper then, and pray for his -overthrow; but for him I should have ruled as my father did, with -justice and equity. If thou wishest for peace, pray for our speedy -restoration to our rightful throne. Farewell."</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>So the Empress and her train departed, and crossing the river at Culham, -made for the distant hills of Synodune, across a country where the snow -had obliterated nearly all the roads, and even covered the hedges and -fences. So that they were forced to travel very slowly, and at times -came to a "standstill."</p> - -<p>However, they surmounted all difficulties; and travelling along the -crest of the hills, where the wind had prevented the accumulation of -much snow, they reached Wallingford in safety, amidst the loudest of -loud rejoicings, where they were welcomed by Maude d'Oyley, Lady of -Wallingford—the sister of the Lord of Oxford and wife of Brian.</p> - -<p>How shall we relate the festivities of that night? it seems like telling -an old tale: how the tables groaned with the weight of the feast, as in -the old ballad of Imogene; how the minstrels and singers followed after, -and none recked of the multitude of captives who already crowded the -dismal dungeons beneath. Some prisoners taken in fair fight, some with -less justice prisoners held to ransom, their sole crime being wealth; -others from default of tribute paid to Brian, be it from ill-will or -only from want of means.</p> - -<p>But of these poor creatures the gay feasters above thought not. The -contrast between the awful vaults and cells below, and the gay and -lighted chambers above, was cruel, but they above recked as little as -the giddy children who play in a churchyard think of the dead beneath -their feet.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span></p><p>"My lady," said Brian, "we shall keep our Christmas yet more merrily, -for on the Eve we hope to welcome thy right trusty brother of Gloucester -and thy gallant son."</p> - -<p>The mother's eyes sparkled.</p> - -<p>"My good and trusty subject," she said, "how thou dost place me under -obligations beyond my power to repay?"</p> - -<p>"Nay, my queen, all I have is thine, for thy own and thy royal father's -sake, who was to me a father indeed."</p> - -<p>The festivities were not prolonged to a very late hour; nature must have -its way, and the previous night had been a most trying one, as our -readers are well aware. That night was a night of deep repose.</p> - -<p>On the following day came the news that Oxford Castle had surrendered, -and that Robert d'Oyley, lord thereof, was prisoner to Stephen; it was -at first supposed that the king would follow his rival to Wallingford, -but he preferred keeping his Christmas in the castle he had taken. -Wallingford was a hard nut to crack.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>It was Christmas Eve, and the Empress stood by the side of the lord of -the castle, on the watch-towers; the two squires, Alain and Osric, -waited reverently behind.</p> - -<p>The scenery around has already been described in our opening chapter. -The veil of winter was over it, but the sun shone brightly, and its -beams glittered on the ice of the river and the snow-clad country -beyond: one only change there was—the forts on the Crowmarsh side of -the stream, erected in a close of the parish of Crowmarsh—then and now -called Barbican; they were so strong as to be deemed impregnable, and -were now held against Brian by the redoubtable Ranulph, Earl of Chester. -The garrisons of the two fortresses, so near each other, preyed in turn -on the country around, and fought wherever they met—to keep their hands -in; but they were now keeping "The Truce of God," in honour of -Christmas.</p> - -<p>"It is a lovely day. May it be the harbinger of better<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> fortune," said -Maude. "When do you think they will arrive?"</p> - -<p>"They slept at Reading Abbey last night, so there is little doubt they -will be here very soon."</p> - -<p>"If they started early they might be in sight now: ah, God and St. Mary -be praised! there they be. Is not that their troop along the road?"</p> - -<p>A band, with streamlets gay and pennons fair, was indeed approaching the -gates of the town from the south, by the road which led from Reading, -along the southern bank of the Thames.</p> - -<p>"To horse! to horse!" said the Empress; "let us fly to meet them."</p> - -<p>"Nay, my liege, they will be here anon—almost before our horses could -be caparisoned to appear in fit state before the citizens of my town." -The fact was, Brian had a soldier's dislike of a scene, and would fain -get the meeting over within the walls.</p> - -<p>And the royal mother contented herself with standing on the steps of the -great hall to receive her gallant son, Henry Plantagenet, the future -King of England, destined to restore peace to the troubled land, but -whose sun was to set in such dark clouds, owing to his quarrel with the -Church, and the cruel misbehaviour of his faithless wife and rebellious -sons.</p> - -<p>But we must not anticipate. The gallant boy was at hand, and his mother -clasped him to the maternal breast: "so greatly comforted," said the -chronicler, "that she forgot all the troubles and mortifications she had -endured, for the joy she had of his presence." Then she turned to her -right trusty brother, and wept on his neck.</p> - -<p>The following day was the birthday of the "Prince of Peace," and these -children of war kept it in right honour. They attended Mass at the -Church of St. Mary's in the town in great state, and afterwards -banqueted in the Castle hall with multitudes of guests. Meanwhile -Ranulph, Earl of Chester, had returned home to keep the feast; but his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> -representatives kept it right well, and the two parties actually sent -presents to each other, and wished mutual good cheer.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>The feast was over, and the maskers dropped their masks, and turned to -the business of life in right earnest—that was war, only war. The -Empress Maude, with her son, under the care of her brother, shortly left -Wallingford for Bristol, where the young prince remained for four years, -under the care of his uncle, who had brought him up.</p> - -<p>But all around the flames of war broke out anew, and universal bloodshed -returned. It was a mere gory chaos: no great battles, no decisive blows; -only castle against castle, all through the land, as at Wallingford and -Crowmarsh. Each baron delved the soil for his dungeons, and raised his -stern towers to heaven. All was pillage and plunder; men fought wherever -they met; every man's hand was against every man; peaceful villages were -burnt daily; lone huts, isolated farms, were no safer; merchants -scarcely dared to travel, shops to expose their wares; men refused to -till the fields for others to reap; and they said that God and His -Saints were fast asleep. The land was filled with death; corpses rotted -by the sides of the roads; women and children took sanctuary in the -churches and churchyards, to which they removed their valuables. But the -bands of brigands and murderers, who, like vultures, scented the quarry -afar, and crowded from all parts of the Continent into England—unhappy -England—as to a prey delivered over into their hands, did not always -respect sanctuary. Famine followed; men had nought to eat; it was even -said that they ate the bodies of the dead like cannibals. Let us hope -this ghastly detail is untrue, but we do not feel <i>sure</i> it is; the -pangs of hunger are so dreadful to bear.</p> - -<p>Then came pestilence in the train of famine, and claimed its share of -victims. And so the weary years went on—twelve long years of misery and -woe.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p><p>Summer had come—hot and dry. There had been no rain for a month. It -was the beginning of July, in the year 1142. Fighting was going on in -England in general; at Wilton, near Salisbury, in particular. The king -was there: he had turned the nunnery of that place into a castle, -driving out the holy sisters, and all the flock of the wounded and poor -to whom, with earnest piety, they were ministering. The king put up -bulwark and battlement, and thought he had done well, when on the 1st of -July came Robert of Gloucester from Bristol, and sat down before the -place to destroy it.</p> - -<p>The king and his brother—the Papal legate, the fighting Bishop of -Winchester, the turncoat—were both there, and after a desperate -defence, were forced to escape by a secret passage, and fly by night. -Their faithful seneschal, William Martel, Lord of Shirburne, and a great -enemy and local rival of Brian, remained behind to protract the defence, -and engage the attention of the besiegers until his king had had time to -get far enough away with his affectionate brother Henry; and his -self-devotion was not in vain, but he paid for it by the loss of his own -liberty. He was taken prisoner after a valiant struggle, and sent to -Wallingford, to be under the custody of Brian Fitz-Count, his enemy and rival.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVII</span> <span class="smaller">LIFE AT WALLINGFORD CASTLE</span></h2> - -<p>In sketching the life of a mediæval castle, we have dwelt too much upon -the brighter side of the picture. There was a darker one, contrasting -with the outward pomp and circumstance as the dungeons with the gay -halls above.</p> - -<p>What then was the interior of those dark towers, which we contemplate -only in their ruined state? Too often, the surrounding peasants looked -at them with affright: the story of Blue-Beard is not a mere tale, it is -rather a veritable tradition: what was the lord to his vassals, whom his -own wife regarded with such great fear? We know one of the brood by the -civil process issued against him—Gilles de Retz—the torturer of -children. It has been said that the "Front de Boeuf" of Sir Walter Scott -is but a poor creature, a feeble specimen of what mediæval barons could -be. A more terrible portrait has been given in recent days by -Erckmann-Chatrian, in their story, <i>The Forest House</i>.</p> - -<p>And such, we regret to say, by degrees did Brian Fitz-Count become. Few -men can stand the test of absolute power, and the power of a mediæval -lord was almost absolute in his own domain.</p> - -<p>And the outbreak of civil war, by loosening the bonds of society, gave -him the power of doing this, so that it was soon said that Wallingford -Castle was little better than a den of brigands.</p> - -<p>The very construction of these old castles, so far as one can see them, -tells us far more than books can: <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>men-at-arms, pages, valets, all were -shut in for the night, sleeping in common in those vaulted apartments. -The day summoned them to the watch-towers and battlements, where they -resembled the eagle or hawk, soaring aloft in hope of seeing their -natural prey.</p> - -<p>Nor was it often long before some convoy of merchandise passing along -the high road, some well appointed travellers or the like, tempted them -forth on their swift horses, lance in hand, to cry like the modern -robber, "Your money or your life," or in sober truth, to drag their -prisoners to their dungeons, and hold them to ransom, in default of -which they amused themselves by torturing them.</p> - -<p>Such inmates of the castles were only happy when they got out upon their -adventures—and as in the old fable of "The Frogs and the Boys,"—what -was sport to them was death to their neighbours.</p> - -<p class="space-above">It was eventide, the work of the day was over, and Brian was taking -counsel with Malebouche, who had risen by degrees to high command -amongst the troopers, although unknighted. Osric was present, and sat in -an embrasure of the window.</p> - -<p>"A good day's work, Malebouche," said Brian; "that convoy of merchandise -going from Reading to Abingdon was a good prize—our halls will be the -better for their gauds, new hangings of tapestry, silks, and the like; -but as we are deficient in women to admire them, I would sooner have had -their value in gold."</p> - -<p>"There is this bag of rose nobles, which we took from the body of the -chief merchant."</p> - -<p>"Well, it will serve as an example to others, who travel by by-roads to -avoid paying me tribute, and rob me of my dues. Merchants from Reading -have tried to get to Abingdon by that road over Cholsey Hill before."</p> - -<p>"They will hardly try again if they hear of this."</p> - -<p>"At least these will not—you have been too prompt with them; did any -escape?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p><p>"I think not; my fellows lanced them as they fled, which was the fate -of all, as we were well mounted, save a lad who stumbled and fell, and -they hung him in sport for the sake of variety. They laughed till the -tears stood in their eyes at his quaint grimaces."<a name="FNanchor_21_21" id="FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a></p> - -<p>Brian did not seem to heed this pleasant story. Osric moved uneasily in -his seat, but strove to repress feelings which, after all, were less -troublesome than of yore; all at once he spied a sight which drove -merchants and all from his mind.</p> - -<p>"My lord, here is Alain."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"Just dismounting in the courtyard."</p> - -<p>"Call to him to come up at once; he will have news from Wilton."</p> - -<p>Osric leant out of the narrow window, which in summer was always open.</p> - -<p>"Alain! Alain!" he cried, "come up hither, my lord is impatient for your -tidings."</p> - -<p>Alain waved back a friendly greeting and hurried up the stairs.</p> - -<p>"Joy, my Lord, joy; thine enemy is in thy hands."</p> - -<p>"Which one, my squire? I have too many enemies to remember all."</p> - -<p>"William Martel, Lord of Shirburne."</p> - -<p>"Ah, now we shall get Shirburne!" cried Osric.</p> - -<p>"Silence, boys!" roared Brian; "now tell me all: where he was taken, and -what has become of him."</p> - -<p>"He was taken by Earl Robert at Wilton, and will be here in an hour; you -may see him from the battlements now. The good Earl has sent him to you -to keep in durance, and sent me to command the escort: I only left them -on the downs—they are descending the hills even now; I galloped forward -to 'bring the good news.'"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span></p><p>"By our Lady, I am indeed happy. Alain, here is a purse of rose nobles -for thee; poor as I am, thy news are all too good. Send the gaolers to -me; have a good dark dungeon prepared; we must humble his spirits."</p> - -<p>"We are getting too full below, my lord."</p> - -<p>"Orders are given for another set to be dug out at once, the architect -only left me to-day; it is to be called Cloere Brien—or Brian's Close, -and the first guest shall be William Martel; there shall he rot till he -deliver up Shirburne and all its lands to me in perpetuity. The Castle -of Shirburne is one of the keys of the Chilterns."</p> - -<p>"Now, my lord, they are in sight—look!"</p> - -<p>And from the windows they saw a troop of horse approaching Wallingford, -over Cholsey Common.</p> - -<p>"Let us don our robes of state to meet them," said Brian; and he threw -on a mantle over his undress; then he descended, followed by his two -pages, and paced the battlements, till the trumpets were blown which -announced the arrival of the cortege.</p> - -<p>Brian showed no womanly curiosity to feast his eyes with the sight of a -captive he was known to hate, but repaired to the steps of the great -hall, and stood there, Alain on one side, Osric on the other; and soon -the leading folk in the castle collected about them.</p> - -<p>The troop of horse trotted over the three drawbridges, and drew rein in -front of the Baron; then wheeling to right and left, disclosed their -prisoner.</p> - -<p>"I salute thee, William Martel, Lord of Shirburne; my poor castle is too -much honoured by thy presence."</p> - -<p>"Faith, thou mayst well say so," said the equally proud and fierce -captive. "I take it thou hast had few prisoners before higher in rank -than the wretched Jews you torture for their gold; but I trust you know -how to treat a noble."</p> - -<p>"That indeed we do, especially one like thyself; not that we are -overawed by thy grandeur; the castle which has entertained thy rightful -sovereign may be quite good enough for thee. Companions thou shalt have, -if but the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> toad and adder; light enough to make darkness visible, until -such time as thy ransom be paid, or thou submit to thy true Queen."</p> - -<p>"To Henry's unworthy child—never. Name thy ransom."</p> - -<p>"The Castle of Shirburne and all things pertaining thereto."</p> - -<p>"Never shall it be thine."</p> - -<p>"Then here shalt thou rot. Tustain, prepare a chamber—one of the -dungeons in the north tower, until a more suitable one be builded. And -meanwhile it may please thee to learn that we purpose a ride to look at -your Shirburne folk, and see the lands which shall be ours; this very -night we may light a bonfire or two to amuse them."</p> - -<p>And they led the captive away.</p> - -<p>Now lest this should be thought a gross exaggeration, it may as well be -said that the ungovernable savagery of this contest, the violent -animosities engendered, did lead the nobility so called, the very chief -of the land, to forget their chivalry, and treat their foes, not after -the fashion of the Black Prince and his captive, the King of France, but -in the brutal fashion we have described.</p> - -<p>And probably Brian would have fared just as badly at William Martel's -hands, had their positions been reversed.</p> - -<p>"Trumpeter, blow the signal to horse; let the Brabanters prepare to -ride, and the Black Troopers of Ardennes—the last comers. We will ride -to-night, Alain. Art thou too wearied to go with us?"</p> - -<p>"Nay, my lord, ready and willing."</p> - -<p>"And Osric—it will refresh thee; we start in half an hour—give the -horses corn."</p> - -<p>In half an hour they all rode over a new bridge of boats lower down the -stream, and close under the ordnance of the castle,<a name="FNanchor_22_22" id="FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> for the forts at -Crowmarsh commanded the lower Bridge of Stone. They were full three -hundred in number—very miscellaneous in composition. There was a new -troop of a hundred Brabanters; another of so-called Free<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> Companions, -numbering nearly the same. Scarce a hundred were Englishmen, in any -sense of the word, neither Anglo-Norman nor Anglo-Saxon—foreigners with -no more disposition to pity the unfortunate natives than the buccaneers -of later date had to pity the Spaniards, or even the shark to pity the -shrinking flesh he snaps at.</p> - -<p>Just before reaching Bensington, which paid tribute to both sides, and -was exempt from fire and sword from either Wallingford or Crowmarsh, a -troop from the latter place came in sight.</p> - -<p>Trumpets were blown on both sides, stragglers recalled into line, and -the two bodies of horsemen charged each other with all the glee of two -bodies of football players in modern times, and with little more thought -or care.</p> - -<p>But the Wallingford men were strongest, and after a brief struggle the -Crowmarsh troopers were forced to fly. They were not pursued: Brian had -other business in hand; it was a mere friendly charge.</p> - -<p>Only struggling on the ground were some fifty men and horses, wounded or -dying, and not a few dead.</p> - -<p>Brian looked after Osric with anxiety.</p> - -<p>The youth's bright face was flushed with delight and animation. He was -returning a reddened sword to the scabbard; he had brought down his man, -cleaving him to the chine, himself unhurt.</p> - -<p>Brian smiled grimly.</p> - -<p>"Now for Alain," he said; "ah, there he is pursuing these Crowmarsh -fellows. We have no time to waste—sound the recall, now onward, for the -Chilterns."</p> - -<p>Alain rejoined them.</p> - -<p>"Thou art wasting time."</p> - -<p>"My foe fled; Osric has beaten me to-day."</p> - -<p>"Plenty of opportunity for redressing the wrong—now onward."</p> - -<p>They passed through Bensington. The gates—for every large village had -its walls and gates as a matter of necessity—opened and shut for them -in grim silence; they did no<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> harm there. They passed by the wood -afterwards called "Rumbold's Copse," and then got into the territory of -Shirburne, for so far as Britwell did William Martel exact tribute, and -offer such protection as he was able.</p> - -<p>From this period all was havoc and destruction—all one grim scene of -fire and carnage. They fired every rick, every barn, every house; they -slew everything they met.</p> - -<p>And Osric was as bad as the rest—we do not wonder at Alain.</p> - -<p>Then they reached Watlington, "the wattled town," situated in a hollow -of the hills. Its gates were secured, and it was surrounded by a ditch, -a mound, and the old British defence of wattles, or stakes pointed -outwards.</p> - -<p>Here they paused.</p> - -<p>"It is too strong to be taken by assault," said the Baron. "Osric, go to -the gate with just half a dozen, who have English tongues in their -heads, and ask for shelter and hospitality."</p> - -<p>Osric, to his credit, hesitated.</p> - -<p>Brian reddened—he could not bear the lad he loved to take a more moral -tone than himself.</p> - -<p>"Must I send Alain?"</p> - -<p>Osric went, and feigning to be belated, asked admittance, but he did not -act it well.</p> - -<p>"Who are you? whence do ye come? what mean the fires we see?"</p> - -<p>"Alain, go and help him; he cannot tell a fair lie," said Brian.</p> - -<p>Alain arriving, made answer, "The men of Wallingford are out—we are -flying from Britwell for our lives—haste or they will overtake us—we -are only a score."</p> - -<p>The poor fools opened, and were knocked on the head at once for their -pains.</p> - -<p>The whole band now galloped up and rushed in.</p> - -<p>"Fire every house. After you have plundered them all, if you find mayor -and burgesses, take them for ransom; slay the rest."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span></p><p>The scene which followed was shocking; but in this wretched reign it -might be witnessed again and again all over England. But many things -shocked Osric afterwards when he had time to think.</p> - -<p>Enough of this. We have only told what we have told because it is -essential to the plot of our story, that the scenes should be understood -which caused so powerful a reaction in Osric—<i>afterwards</i>.</p> - -<p>Laden with spoil, with shout and song, the marauders returned from their -raid. Along the road which leads from Watlington to the south, with the -range of the Chilterns looking down from the east, and the high land -which runs from Rumbold's Copse to Brightwell Salome on the west, they -drove their cattle and carried their plunder; whilst they recounted -their murderous exploits, and made night hideous with the defiant bray -of trumpets and their discordant songs.</p> - -<p>And so in the fire and excitement of the moment the sufferings of the -poor natives were easily forgotten, or served to the more violent and -cruel as zest to their enjoyment.</p> - -<p>Was it so with our Osric? Could the grandson of Sexwulf, the heir of a -line of true Englishmen, so forget the lessons of his boyhood? Alas, my -reader, such possibilities lurk in our fallen nature!</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Ah, when shall come the time</div> -<div class="i1">When war shall be no more?</div> -<div>When lust, oppression, crime,</div> -<div class="i1">Shall flee Thy Face before?"</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>We must wait until the advent of the Prince of Peace.</p> - -<p>They got back to Wallingford at last. The gates were opened, there was a -scene of howling excitement, and then they feasted and drank until the -small hours of the night; after which they went to bed, three or four in -one small chamber, and upon couches of the hardest—in recesses of the -wall, or sometimes placed, like the berths of a ship, one over the -other—the robbers slept.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span></p><p>For in what respect were they better than modern highwaymen or pirates?</p> - -<p>Osric and Alain lay in the same chamber.</p> - -<p>"How hast thou enjoyed the day, Osric?"</p> - -<p>"Capitally, but I am worn out."</p> - -<p>"You will not sleep so soundly even now as the fellow you brought down -so deftly in that first skirmish. You have got your hand in at last."</p> - -<p>Osric smiled with gratified vanity—he was young and craved such glory.</p> - -<p>"Good-night, Alain." He could hardly articulate the words from fatigue, -and Alain had had even a harder day.</p> - -<p>They slept almost as soundly as the dead they had left behind them; no -spectres haunted them and disturbed their repose; conscience was -hardened, scarred as with a hot iron, but her time was yet to come for -Osric.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_21_21" id="Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> Rien de plus gai que nos vieux contes—ils n'ont que trois -plaisanteries—le desespoir du mari, les cris du battu, la grimace du -pendu: au troisieme la gaiete est au comble, on se tient les -cotés.—<i>Michelet.</i></p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_22_22" id="Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> <i>i.e.</i> Mangonels, arbalasts, and the like.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XVIII</span> <span class="smaller">BROTHER ALPHEGE</span></h2> - -<p>From the abode of strife and turmoil to the home of peace, from the -house of the world to the house of religion, from the Castle of -Wallingford to the Abbey of Dorchester, do we gladly conduct our -readers, satiated, we doubt not, with scenes of warfare.</p> - -<p>What wonder, when the world was given up to such scenes, that men and -women, conscious of higher aspirations, should fly to the seclusion of -the monastic life, afar from</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Unloving souls with deeds of ill,</div> -<div>And words of angry strife."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And what a blessing for that particular age that there were such -refuges, thickly scattered throughout the land—veritable cities of -refuge. It was not the primary idea of these orders that they should be -benevolent institutions, justifying their existence by the service -rendered to the commonwealth. The primary idea was the service of God, -and the salvation of the particular souls, who fled from a world lying -in wickedness and the shadow of death, to take sweet counsel together, -and walk in the House of God as friends.</p> - -<p>Later on came a <i>nobler</i> conception of man's duty to man; and thence -sprang the active orders, such as the Friars or Sisters of Mercy, as -distinguished from the cloistered or contemplative orders.</p> - -<p>Of course, in the buildings of such a society, the Church was the -principal object—as the ruins of Tintern or <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>Glastonbury show, -overshadowing all the other buildings, dwarfing them into -insignificance. Upon this object all the resources of mediæval art were -expended. The lofty columns, the mysterious lights and shadows of a -Gothic fane, the sculptures, the statues, the shrines, the rich -vestments, the painted glass—far beyond aught we can produce, the -solemn music,—all this they lavished on the Church as the house of -prayer—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"It is the house of prayer,</div> -<div class="i1">Wherein Thy servants meet;</div> -<div>And Thou, O God, art there,</div> -<div class="i1">Thy hallowed flock to greet."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Here they met seven times daily, to recite their offices, as also at the -midnight office, when only the professed brethren were present. In these -active times men may consider so much time spent in church a great waste -of time, but we cannot judge other generations by our own ideas. A very -sharp line was then drawn between the Church and the world, and they who -chose the former possessed a far greater love for Divine worship than we -see around us now, coupled with a most steadfast belief in its efficacy. -"Blessed are They who dwell in Thy house; they will be alway praising -Thee," was the language of their hearts.</p> - -<p>Here men who had become the subjects of intense grief—from whom death, -perhaps, had removed their earthly solace—the partners of their sorrow -or joy—found refuge when the sun of this world was set. Here, also, -studious men, afar from the clamour and din of arms, preserved for us -the wisdom of the ancients. Here the arts and sciences lived on, when -nought save war filled the minds of men outside. Well has it been said, -that for the learning of the nineteenth century to revile the monastic -system is for the oak to revile the acorn from which it sprang.</p> - -<p>But most of all, when the shadow of a great horror of himself and his -past fell upon a man, how blessed to have such an institution as a -mediæval monastery wherein to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> hide the stricken head, and to learn -submission to the Divine Will.</p> - -<p>Such a home had Wulfnoth found at Dorchester Abbey.</p> - -<p>The year of his novitiate had passed, and he had won the favour of his -monastic superiors. We do not say he had always been as humble as a -novice should, or that he never, like Lot's wife, looked back again to -Sodom, but the good had triumphed, and the day came for his election as -a brother.</p> - -<p>Every day after the Chapter Mass which followed Terce, the daily -"Chapter" was held, wherein all matters of discipline were settled, -correction, if needed, administered, novices or brethren admitted by -common consent, and all other weighty business transacted. Here they met -four centuries later, when they affixed their reluctant seal to their -own dissolution, to avoid worse consequences.</p> - -<p>It was here that, after the ordinary business was over, the novice -Alphege, the once sanguinary Wulfnoth, rose with a calm and composed -exterior, but with a beating heart, to crave admission into the order by -taking the life vows.</p> - -<p>The Abbot signed to him to speak.</p> - -<p>"I, Wulfnoth the novice, crave admission to the full privileges and -prayers of the order, by taking the vows for life, as a brother -professed."</p> - -<p>There was silence for a space.</p> - -<p>Then the Abbot spoke—</p> - -<p>"Hast thou duly considered the solemn step? Canst thou leave the world -behind thee—its friendships and its enmities? and hast thou considered -what hard and stern things we endure?"</p> - -<p>"I have, Father Abbot."</p> - -<p>"And the yet harder and sterner discipline which awaits the -transgressor?"</p> - -<p>"None of these things move me: I am prepared to bear yet harsher and -sterner things, if so be I may save my soul."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p><p>"The Lord Jesus Christ so perform in you what for His love's sake you -promise, that you may have His grace and life eternal."</p> - -<p>"Amen," said all present.</p> - -<p>The rule of the order was then read aloud.</p> - -<p>"Here," said the Abbot, "is the law under which thou desirest to serve: -if thou canst observe it, enter; but if thou canst not, freely depart."</p> - -<p>"I will observe it, God being my helper."</p> - -<p>"Doth any brother know any just cause or impediment why Alphege the -novice should not be admitted to our brotherhood?"</p> - -<p>None was alleged.</p> - -<p>"Do you all admit him to a share in your sacrifices and prayers?"</p> - -<p>The hands were solemnly raised.</p> - -<p>"It is enough: prepare with prayer and fasting for the holy rite," said -the Abbot.</p> - -<p>For there was of course a solemn form of admission into the order yet to -be gone through in the Church, which we have not space to detail.</p> - -<p>It was not necessary that a monk should take Holy Orders, yet it was -commonly done; and dismissing the subject in a few words, we will simply -say that Wulfnoth took deacon's orders after he had taken the life vows, -and later on was ordained priest by Bishop Alexander of Lincoln, -aforesaid.</p> - -<p>His lot in life was now fixed: no longer was he in any danger from the -Lord of Wallingford; nor could he execute vengeance with sword and woe -for the household stricken so sorely by that baron's hands at Compton on -the downs. It was over—he left it all to Him Who once said, "Vengeance -is Mine, I will repay." Nor mindful of his own sins, did he pray for -such vengeance. He <i>left it</i>, and strove to pray for Brian.</p> - -<p>One bright day at the close of July the Abbot called him to ride with -him, for the order was not strictly a cloistered<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> one, nor could it -indeed be; they had their landed estates, their tenantry, their farms to -look after. The offices were numerous, of necessity, and it was the -policy of the order to give each monk, if possible, some special duty or -office. Almost all they ate or drank was produced at home. The corn grew -on their own land; they had their own mill; the brethren brewed, baked, -or superintended lay brothers who did so. Other brethren were tailors, -shoemakers for the community; others gardeners; others, as we have seen, -scribes and illuminators; others kept the accounts—no small task.<a name="FNanchor_23_23" id="FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> -In short, none led the idle life commonly assigned in popular -estimation.</p> - -<p>They rode forth then, the Abbot Alured and Alphege, the new brother. -First into the town without the gates, far larger then than now, it was -partly surrounded by walls, partly protected by the Rivers Isis and -Tame; but within the space was a crowd of inhabitants dwelling in -houses, or rather huts; dwelling even in tents, like modern gypsies, -crowding the space within the walls, with good reason, for no man's life -was safe in the country, and here was sanctuary! Even Brian Fitz-Count -would respect Dorchester Abbey: even if some marauding baron assailed -the town, there was still the abbey church, or even the precincts for -temporary shelter.</p> - -<p>But food was scarce, and here lay the difficulty. The abbey revenues -were insufficient, for many of the farms had been burnt in the nightly -raids, and rents were ill-paid. Everything was scarce: many a hapless -mother, many a new-born babe, died from sheer want of the things -necessary to save; the strong lived through it, the weak sank under it: -there may have been those who found comfort, and said it was "the -survival of the fittest."</p> - -<p>Day by day was the dole given forth at the abbey gates; day by day the -hospitium was very crowded. The hospitaller was at his wits' end. And -the old infirmarer happening to die just then, folk said, "It was the -worry."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p><p>"Who is sufficient for these things?" said Abbot Alured to his -companion, as they rode through the throng and emerged upon the road -leading to the hamlet of Brudecott (Burcot) and Cliffton (Clifton -Hampden).</p> - -<p>Their dress was a white cassock under a black cloak, with a hood -covering the head and neck and reaching to the shoulders, having under -it breeches, vest, white stockings and shoes; a black cornered cap, not -unlike the college cap of modern days, completed the attire.</p> - -<p>"Tell me, brother," said the Abbot, "what is thy especial vocation? what -office wouldst thou most desire to hold amongst us?"</p> - -<p>"I am little capable of discharging any weighty burden: thou knowest I -have been a man of war."</p> - -<p>"And he who once gave wounds should now learn to heal them. Our brother -the infirmarer has lately departed this life, full of good works—would -not that be the office for thee?"</p> - -<p>"I think I could discharge it better than I could most others."</p> - -<p>"It is well, then it shall be thine; it will be onerous just now. Ah me, -when will these wars be over?"</p> - -<p>"Methinks there was a great fire amongst the Chilterns last night—a -thick cloud of smoke lingers there yet."</p> - -<p>"It is surely Watlington—yes it is Watlington; they have burned it. -What can have chanced? it is under the protection of Shirburne."</p> - -<p>"I marvel we have had none of the people here, to seek hospitality and -aid."</p> - -<p>They arrived now at Brudecott, a hamlet on the Thames. One Nicholas de -Brudecott had held a mansion here, one knight's fee of the Bishop of -Lincoln; but the house had been burnt by midnight marauders. The place -was desolate: on the fields untilled a few poor people lived in huts, -protected by their poverty.</p> - -<p>They rode on to Cliffton, where the Abbot held three "virgates" of land, -with all the farm buildings and utensils<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> for their cultivation; the -latter had escaped devastation, perhaps from the fact it was church -property, although even that was not always respected in those days.</p> - -<p>Upon the rock over the river stood the rustic church. Wulfnoth had often -served it as deacon, attending the priestly monk who said Mass each -Sunday there, for Dorchester took the tithes and did the duty.</p> - -<p>Here they crossed the river by a shallow ford where the bridge now -stands, and rode through Witeham (Wittenham), where the Abbot had -business connected with the monastery. The same desertion of the place -impressed itself upon their minds. Scarcely a living being was seen; -only a few old people, unable to bring themselves to forsake their -homes, lingered about half-ruined cottages. The parish priest yet lived -in the tower of the church, unwilling to forsake his flock, although -half the village was in ruins, and nearly all the able-bodied had taken -refuge in the towns.</p> - -<p>They were on the point of crossing the ford beneath Synodune Hill, -situated near the junction of Tame and Isis, when the Abbot suddenly -conceived the desire of ascending the hills and viewing the scene of -last night's conflagration from thence. They did so, and from the summit -of the eastern hill, within the entrenchment which still exists, and has -existed there from early British times, marked the cloud of black smoke -which arose from the ruins of Watlington.</p> - -<p>"What can have happened to the town—it is well defended with palisades -and trench?"</p> - -<p>Just then a powerful horseman, evidently a knight at the least, attended -by two squires, rode over the entrance of the vallum, and ascended to -the summit of the hill. He saluted the Abbot with a cold salute, and -then entered into conversation with his squires.</p> - -<p>"It is burning even yet, Osric; dost thou mark the black smoke?"</p> - -<p>"Thatch smoulders a long time, my lord," replied the squire addressed.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span></p><p>The Abbot Alured happened to look round at Wulfnoth; he was quivering -with some suppressed emotion like an aspen leaf, and his hand -involuntarily sought the place where the hilt of his sword should have -been had he possessed one.</p> - -<p>"What ails thee, brother?" he said.</p> - -<p>"It is the destroyer of my home and family, Brian Fitz-Count," and -Wulfnoth drew the cowl over his head.</p> - -<p>The Abbot rode down the hill; he felt as if he were on the edge of a -volcano, and putting his hand on his companion's rein, forced him to -accompany him.</p> - -<p>It was strange that Wulfnoth did not also recognise his own <i>son</i>.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_23_23" id="Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> Many monastic rolls of accounts remain, and their -minuteness is even startling.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XIX</span> <span class="smaller">IN THE LOWEST DEPTHS</span></h2> - -<p>The morning watch looked forth from the summit of the lofty keep, which -rose above Wallingford Castle, to spy the dawning day. From that -elevation of two hundred feet he saw the light of the summer dawn break -forth over the Chiltern Hills in long streaks of azure, and amber light -flecked with purple and scarlet. The stream below caught the rays, and -assumed the congenial hue of blood; the sleepy town began to awake -beyond the castle precincts; light wreaths of smoke to ascend from roof -after roof—we can hardly say of those days chimney after chimney; the -men of the castle began to move, for there was no idleness under Brian's -rule; boats arrived by the stream bearing stores from the dependent -villages above and below, or even down from Oxford and up from Reading, -for the river was a great highway in those days.</p> - -<p>Ah, how like the distant view was to that we now behold from the -lessened height of the ruined keep! The everlasting hills were the same; -the river flowed in the same channel: and yet how unlike, for the -cultivated fields of the present day were mainly wood and marsh; dense -forests of bush clothed the Chilterns; Cholsey Common, naked and bare, -stretched on to the base of the downs; but on the west were the vast -forests which had filled the vale of White Horse in earlier times, and -now were but slightly broken into clearings, and diversified with -hamlets.</p> - -<p>But still more unlike, the men who began to wake into life!</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p><p>The gaolers were busy with the light breakfasts of their prisoners, or -attending to their cells, which they were forced sometimes to clean out, -to prevent a pestilence; the soldiers were busy attending to their -horses, and scouring their arms; the cooks were busy providing for so -many mouths; the butler was busy with his wines; the armourers and -blacksmiths with mail and weapons; the treasurer was busy with his -accounts, counting the value of last night's raid and assigning his -share of prize-money to each raider, for all had their share, each -according to rank, and so "moss-trooping" was highly popular.</p> - -<p>Even the Chaplain, as he returned from his hastily said Mass, which few -attended—only, indeed, the Lady of the Castle, Maude d'Oyley, and her -handmaidens—received his "bonus" as a bribe to Heaven, and pocketed it -without reflecting that it was the price of blood. He was the laziest -individual in the castle. Few there confessed their sins, and fewer -still troubled him in any other spiritual capacity. Still Brian kept him -for the sake of "being in form," as moderns say, and had purposely -sought out an accommodating conscience.</p> - -<p>In the terrace, which looked over the glacis towards the Thames, of -which the remains with one window <i>in situ</i> may still be seen, was the -bower of Maude d'Oyley, wife of Brian Fitz-Count and sister of the Lord -of Oxford Castle, as we have before observed. It was called otherwise -"the solar chamber;" perhaps because it was best fitted with windows for -the admission of the sunlight, the openings in the walls being generally -rather loopholes than windows.</p> - -<p>The passion for great reception-rooms was as strong in mediæval days as -in our own, and the family apartments suffered for it,—being generally -small and low,—while the banqueting-hall was lofty and spacious, and -the Gothic windows, which looked into the inner quadrangle, were of -ample proportions. But the "ladye's bower" on the second floor consisted -of, first an ante-chamber, where a handmaiden always waited within -hearing of the little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> silver hand-bell; then a bower or boudoir; then -the bedroom proper. All these rooms were hung with rich tapestry, worked -by the lady and her handmaidens. For in those days, when books were -scarce, and few could read, the work of the needle and the loom was the -sole alleviation of many a solitary hour.</p> - -<p>The windows looked over the river, and were of horn, not very -transparent, only translucent; the outer world could but be dimly -discerned in daylight.</p> - -<p>There was a hearth at one end of the bower, and "dog-irons" upon it for -the reception of the logs, of which fires were chiefly composed, for -there was as yet no coal in use.</p> - -<p>There were two "curule" chairs, that is, chairs in the form of St. -Andrew's Cross, with cushions between the upper limbs, and no backs; -there were one or two very small round tables for the reception of -trifles, and "leaf-tables" between the windows. No one ever sat on these -"curule" chairs save those of exalted rank: three-legged stools were -good enough for ladies in waiting, and the like.</p> - -<p>The hangings, which concealed the bare walls, were very beautiful. On -one set was represented Lazarus and Dives; Father Abraham appeared very -much in the style of a mediæval noble, and on his knee, many sizes -smaller, sat Lazarus. In uncomfortable proximity to their seats was a -great yawning chasm, and smoke looking very substantial, as represented -in wool-work, arose thence, while some batlike creatures, supposed to be -fiends, sported here and there. On the other side lay Dives in the midst -of rosy flames of crimson wool, and his tongue, which was stretched out -for the drop of water, was of such a size, that one wondered how it ever -could have found space in the mouth. But for all this, the lesson taught -by the picture was not a bad one for the chambers of barons, if they -would but heed it; it is to be feared it was little heeded just then in -Wallingford Castle.</p> - -<p>There was no carpet on the floor, only rushes, from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> marshes. The -Countess sat on her "curule" chair in front of the blazing fire. Three -maidens upon three-legged stools around her were engaged on embroidery. -They were all of high rank, entrusted to her guardianship, for she liked -to surround herself with blooming youth. <i>She</i> was old,—her face was -wrinkled, her eyes were dull,—but she had a sweet smile, and was quite -an engaging old lady, although, of course, with the reserve which -became, or was supposed to become, her high rank.</p> - -<p>A timid knock at the door, and another maiden entered.</p> - -<p>"Jeannette, thou art late this evening."</p> - -<p>"I was detained in Dame Ursula's room; she needed my help, lady."</p> - -<p>"Wherefore?"</p> - -<p>"To attend to the wounded of last night's raid."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes, we have heard but few particulars, and would fain learn more. -Send and see whether either of the young squires Osric or Alain can come -and give us the details."</p> - -<p>And shortly Osric entered, dressed in his handsomest tunic—the garb of -peace, and properly washed and combed for the presence of ladies.</p> - -<p>He bowed reverently to the great dame, of whom he stood in more awe than -of her stern husband: he was of that awkward age when lads are always -shy before ladies.</p> - -<p>But her kind manner cheered him.</p> - -<p>"So thou didst ride last night, Osric?"</p> - -<p>"I did, my lady."</p> - -<p>"Come, tell us all about it."</p> - -<p>"We started, as thou knowest, soon after the arrival of the prisoner -William Martel, to harry his lands."</p> - -<p>"We all saw you start; and I hear the Crowmarsh people saw you too."</p> - -<p>"And assailed us at Bensington."</p> - -<p>"And now tell me, my Osric, didst thou not slay one of Lord Ranulph's -people?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p><p>"I did, by my good fortune, and his ill-luck."</p> - -<p>"And so thou shouldst receive the meed of valour from the fair. Come, -what sayest thou, ladies?"</p> - -<p>"He should indeed; he is marvellous young to be so brave."</p> - -<p>"We are short of means to reward our brave knights and squires, but take -this ring;" and she gave one containing a valuable gem; "and we only -grieve it is not of more worth."</p> - -<p>So Osric, encouraged, continued his tale; and those fair ladies—and -fair they were—laughed merrily at his narration of the burning of -Watlington, and would have him spare no details.</p> - -<p>"Thou hast done well, my Osric. Come, thou wilt be a knight; thou dost -not now pine for the forest?"</p> - -<p>"Not now; I have grown to love adventures."</p> - -<p>"And it is so exciting to ride by night, as thou didst last winter with -the Empress Queen."</p> - -<p>"But I love the summer nights, with their sweet freshness, best."</p> - -<p>"Thou dost not remember thy boyhood with regret now, and wish it back -again?"</p> - -<p>"Not now." And Osric made his bow and departed.</p> - -<p>"There is a mystery about that youth; he is not English, as my lord -thinks; there is not an atom of it about him," said the Countess, and -fell into a fit of musing.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>From the halls of pleasure let us turn to the dungeons beneath; but -first a digression.</p> - -<p>Even mediæval barons were forced to keep their accounts, or to employ, -more commonly, a "scrivener" or accountant for that purpose; and all -this morning Brian was closeted with his man of business, looking over -musty rolls and parchments, from which extract after extract was read, -bearing little other impression on the mind of the poor perplexed Baron -than that he was grievously behind in his finances. So he despatched the -scrivener to negotiate a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> farther advance—loan he called it—from the -mayor, while he summoned Osric, who was quick at figures, to his -presence.</p> - -<p>"There is scarcely enough money to pay the Brabanters, and they will -mutiny if kept short: that raid last night was a god-send," said Brian -to himself.</p> - -<p>Osric arrived. The Baron felt lighter of heart when the youth he loved -was with him. It was another case of Saul and David. And furthermore, -the likeness was not a superficial one. Often did Osric touch the harp, -and sing the lays of love and war to his patron, for so much had he -learned of his grandsire.</p> - -<p>They talked of the previous evening's adventures, and Brian was -delighted to draw Osric out, and to hear him express sentiments so -entirely at variance with his antecedents, as he did under the Baron's -deft questions.</p> - -<p>So they continued talking until the scrivener returned, and then the -Baron asked impatiently—</p> - -<p>"Well, man! and what does the mayor say?"</p> - -<p>"That their resources are exhausted, and that you are very much in their -debt already."</p> - -<p>The reader need not marvel at this bold answer. Brian dared not use -violence to his own burghers; it would have been killing the goose who -laid the golden eggs. In our men of commerce began the first germs of -English liberty. Men would sometimes yield to all other kinds of -violence, but the freemen of the towns, even amidst the wild barons of -Germany, held their own; and so did the burgesses of Wallingford: they -had their charter signed and sealed by Brian, and ratified by Henry the -First.</p> - -<p>"The greedy caitiffs," he said; "well, we must go and see the dungeons. -Osric, come with me."</p> - -<p>Osric had seldom been permitted to do this before. He had only once or -twice been "down below." Perhaps Brian had feared to shock him, and now -thought him seasoned, as indeed he seemed to be the night before, and in -his talk that day.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p><p>And here let me advise my gentler readers, who hate to read of violence -and cruelty, to skip the rest of this chapter, which may be read by -stronger-minded readers as essential to a complete picture of life at -Wallingford Castle. What men once had to bear, we may bear to read.</p> - -<p>They went first to the dungeon in the north tower, where William, Lord -of Shirburne, was confined. Tustain the gaoler and two satellites -attended, and opened the door of the cell. It was a cold, bare room: a -box stuffed with leaves and straw, with a coverlet and pillow for a bed; -a rough bench; a rude table—that was all.</p> - -<p>The prisoner could not enjoy the scenery; his only light was from a -grated window above, of too small dimensions to allow a man to pass -through, even were the bars removed.</p> - -<p>"How dost thou like my hospitality, William of Shirburne?"</p> - -<p>"I suppose it is as good as I should have shown thee."</p> - -<p>"Doubtless: we know each other. Now, what wilt thou pay for thy ransom?"</p> - -<p>"A thousand marks."</p> - -<p>Brian laughed grimly.</p> - -<p>"Thou ratest thyself at the price of an old Jew."</p> - -<p>"What dost thou ask?"</p> - -<p>"Ten thousand marks, or the Castle of Shirburne and its domains."</p> - -<p>"Never! thou villain—robber!"</p> - -<p>"Thou wilt change thy mind: thou mayst despatch a messenger for the -money, who shall have free conduct to come and go; and mark me, if thou -dost not pay within a week, thou shalt be manacled and removed to the -dungeons below, to herd with my defaulting debtors, and a week after to -a lower depth still."</p> - -<p>Then he turned as if to depart, but paused and said, "It is a pity this -window is so high in the wall, otherwise thou mightst have seen a fine -blaze last night about Shirburne and its domains."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span></p><p>He laughed exultantly.</p> - -<p>"Do thy worst, thou son of perdition; my turn may yet come," replied -Martel.</p> - -<p>And the Baron departed, accompanied still by Osric.</p> - -<p>"Osric," said he, "thou hast often asked to visit the lower dungeons: -thou mayst have thy wish, and see how we house our guests there; and -also in a different capacity renew thine acquaintance with the -torture-chambers: thou shalt be the notary."</p> - -<p>"My lord, thou dost recall cruel memories."</p> - -<p>"Nay, it was for love of thee. I have no son, and my bowels yearned for -one; it was gentle violence for thine own good. I know not how it was, -but I could not even then have done more than frighten thee. Thou wilt -see I can hurt others without wincing. Say, wouldst thou fear to see -what torture is like? it may fall to thy duty to inflict it some day, -and in these times one must get hardened either to inflict or endure."</p> - -<p>"I may as well learn all I have to learn; but I love it not. I do not -object to fighting; but in cold blood——"</p> - -<p>"Well, here is the door which descends to the lower realms."</p> - -<p>They descended through a yawning portal to the dungeons. The steps were -of gray stone: they went down some twenty or thirty, and then entered a -corridor—dark and gloomy—from which opened many doors on either side.</p> - -<p>Dark, but not silent. Many a sigh, many a groan, came from behind those -doors, but neither Brian nor his squire heeded them.</p> - -<p>"Which shall I open first?" said Tustain.</p> - -<p>"The cell of Nathan, the Abingdon Jew."</p> - -<p>The door was a huge block of stone, turning upon a pivot. It disclosed a -small recess, about six feet by four, paved with stone, upon which lay -some foul and damp litter. A man was crouched upon this, with a long, -matted beard, looking the picture of helpless misery.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span></p><p>"Well, Nathan, hast been my guest long enough? Will not change of air -do thee good?"</p> - -<p>"I have no more money to give thee."</p> - -<p>"Then I must bid the tormentor visit thee again. Thy race is accursed, -and I cannot offer a better burnt-offering to Heaven than a Jew."</p> - -<p>"Mercy, Baron! I have borne so much already."</p> - -<p>"Mercy is to be bought: the price is a thousand marks of gold."</p> - -<p>"I have not a hundred."</p> - -<p>"Osric," said Brian; and gave his squire instructions to fetch the -tormentor.</p> - -<p>"We will spare thee the grate yet awhile; but I have another plan in -view. Coupe-gorge, canst thou draw teeth?"</p> - -<p>"Yes," said the tormentor, grinning, who had come at Osric's bidding.</p> - -<p>"Then bring me a tooth from the mouth of this Nathan every day until his -ransom arrive. Nathan, thou mayst write home—a letter for each tooth." -And with a merry laugh they passed on to the other dungeons.</p> - -<p>There was one who shared his cell with toads and adders, introduced for -his discomfort; another round whose neck and throat a hideous thing -called a <i>sachentage</i> was fastened. It was thus made: it was fastened to -a beam, and had a sharp iron to go round a man's neck and throat, so -that he might nowise sit or lie or sleep, but he bore all the iron.</p> - -<p>In short, the castle was full of prisoners, and they were subjected to -daily tortures to make them disclose their supposed hidden treasures, or -pay the desired ransom. Here were many hapless Jews, always the first -objects of cruelty in the Middle Ages; here many usurers, paying -interest more heavy than they had ever charged others; here also many of -the noblest and purest mixed up with some of the vilest upon earth.</p> - -<p>Well might the townspeople complain that they were startled in their -sleep by the cries and shrieks which came from the grim towers.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span></p><p>And the Baron, followed by Osric, went from dungeon to dungeon; in some -cases obtaining promises of ransom to be paid, in others hearing of -treasures, real or imaginary, buried in certain places, which he bid -Osric note, that search might be made.</p> - -<p>"Woe to them who fool me," he said.</p> - -<p>Then they came to a dungeon in which was a chest, sharp and narrow, in -which one poor tormented wight lay in company with sharp flints; as the -light of the torch they bore flashed upon him, his eyes, red and lurid, -gleamed through the open iron framework of the lid which fastened him -down.</p> - -<p>"This man was the second in command of a band of English outlaws, who -made much spoil at Norman expense. Now I slew his chief in fair combat -on the downs, and this man succeeded him, and waged war for a long time, -until I took him; and here he is. How now, Herwald, dost want to get out -of thy chest?"</p> - -<p>A deep groan was the only reply.</p> - -<p>"Then disclose to me the hidden treasures of thy band."</p> - -<p>"We have none."</p> - -<p>"Persevere then in that lie, and die in thy misery."</p> - -<p>Osric felt very sick. He had not the nerves of his chief, and now he -felt as if he were helping the torture of his own countrymen; and, -moreover, there was a yet deeper feeling. Recollections were brought to -his mind in that loathsome dungeon which, although indistinct and -confused, yet had some connection with his own early life. What had his -father been? The grandfather had carefully hidden all those facts, known -to the reader, from Osric, but old Judith had dropped obscure hints.</p> - -<p>He longed to get out of this accursed depth into the light of day, yet -felt ashamed of his own weakness. He heard the misery of these dens -turned into a joke by Alain and others every day. He had brought -prisoners into the castle himself—for the hideous receptacles—and been -complimented on his prowess and success; yet humanity<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> was not quite -extinguished in his breast, and he felt sick of the scenes.</p> - -<p>But he had not done. They came to the torture-chamber, where -recalcitrant prisoners, who would not own their wealth, were hanged up -by the feet and smoked with foul smoke: some were hanged up by the -thumbs, others by the head, and burning rings were put on their feet. -The torturers put knotted strings about men's heads, and writhed them -till they went into the brain. In short, the horrid paraphernalia of -cruelty was entered into that day with the utmost zest, and all for -gold, accursed gold—at least, that was the first object; but we fear at -last the mere love of cruelty was half the incitement to such doings.</p> - -<p>And all this time Brian sat as judge, and directed the torturers with -eye or hand; and Osric had to take notes of the things the poor wretches -said in their delirium.</p> - -<p>At last it was over, and they ascended to the upper day.</p> - -<p>"How dost thou like it, Osric?" said Alain, whom they met on the -ramparts.</p> - -<p>Osric shook his head.</p> - -<p>"It is nothing when you are used to it; I used to feel squeamish at -first."</p> - -<p>"I never shall like it," whispered Osric.</p> - -<p>The whisper was so earnest that Alain looked at him in surprise; Osric -only answered by something like a sigh. The Baron heard him not.</p> - -<p>"Thou hast done well for a beginner," said Brian; "how dost thou like -the torture chamber?"</p> - -<p>"I was there in another capacity once."</p> - -<p>"And thou hast not forgot it. But we must remember these <i>canaille</i> are -only made for such uses—only to disgorge their wealth for their -betters, or to furnish sport."</p> - -<p>"How should we like it ourselves?"</p> - -<p>"You might as well object to eating venison, and say how should we like -it if we were the deer?"</p> - -<p>"But does not God look upon all alike?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p><p>They were on the castle green. Upon the sward some ants had raised a -little hill.</p> - -<p>"Look at these ants," said Brian; "I believe they have a sort of kingdom -amongst themselves—some are priests, some masters, some slaves, one is -king, and the like: to themselves they seem very important. Now I will -place my foot upon the hill, and ruin their republic. Just so are the -gods to us, if there be gods. They care as little about men as I about -the ants; our joys, our griefs, our good deeds, our bad deeds, are alike -to them. I was in deep affliction once about my poor leprous boys. I -prayed with all my might; I gave alms; I had Masses said—all in vain. -Now I go my own way, and you see I do not altogether fail of success, -although I buy it with the tears and blood of other men."</p> - -<p>This seemed startling, nay, terrible to Osric.</p> - -<p>"Yet, Osric, I can love, and I can reward fidelity; be true to me, and I -will be truer to you than God was to me—that is, if there be a God, -which I doubt."</p> - -<p>Osric shuddered; and well he might at this impious defiance.</p> - -<p>Then this strange man was seized with a remorse, which showed that after -all there was yet some good left in him.</p> - -<p>"Nay, pardon me, my Osric; I wish not to shake thy faith; if it make -thee happy, keep it. Mine are perchance the ravings of disappointment -and despair. There are times when I think the most wretched of my -captives happier than I. Nay, <i>keep</i> thy faith if thou canst."</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XX</span> <span class="smaller">MEINHOLD AND HIS PUPILS</span></h2> - -<p>We are loth to leave our readers too long in the den of tyranny: we pant -for free air; for the woods, even if we share them with hermits and -lepers—anything rather than the towers of Wallingford under Brian -Fitz-Count, his troopers and free lances.</p> - -<p>So we will fly to the hermitage where his innocent sons have found -refuge for two years past, under the fostering care of Meinhold the -hermit, and see how they fare.</p> - -<p>First of all, they had not been reclaimed to Byfield. It is true they -had been traced, and Meinhold had been "interviewed"; but so earnestly -had both he and the boys pleaded that they might be allowed to remain -where they were, that assent was willingly given, even Father Ambrose -feeling that it was for the best; only an assurance was required that -they would not stray from the neighbourhood of the cell, and it was -readily given.</p> - -<p>Of course their father was informed, and he made no opposition,—the -poor boys were dead to him and the world. Leprosy was incurable: if they -were happy—"let them be."</p> - -<p>So they enjoyed the sweet, simple life of the forest. They found -playmates in every bird and beast; they learned to read at last; they -joined the hermit in the recitation of two at least of the "hours" each -day—<i>Lauds</i> and <i>Vespers</i>, the morning and evening offerings of praise. -They learned to sing, and chanted <i>Benedictus</i> and <i>Magnificat</i>, as well -as the hymns <i>Ecce nunc umbræ</i> and <i>Lucis Creator optime</i>.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p><p>"We sing very badly, do we not?"</p> - -<p>"Not worse than the brethren of St. Bernard."</p> - -<p>"Tell us about them."</p> - -<p>"They settled in a wild forest,—about a dozen in number. They could not -sing their offices, for they lacked an ear for music; but they said God -should at least be honoured by the <i>Magnificat</i> in song; so they did -their best, although it is said they frightened the very birds away.</p> - -<p>"Now one day a wandering boy, the son of a minstrel, came that way and -craved hospitality. He joined them at Vespers, and when they came to the -<i>Magnificat</i>, he took up the strain and sang it so sweetly that the -birds all came back and listened, entranced; and the old monks were -silent lest they should spoil so sweet a chant with their croaking and -nasal tones.</p> - -<p>"That evening an Angel flew straight from Heaven and came to the prior.</p> - -<p>"'My lady hath sent me to learn why <i>Magnificat</i> was not sung to-night?'</p> - -<p>"'It was sung indeed—so beautifully.'</p> - -<p>"'Nay, it ascended no farther than human ken; the singer was only -thinking of his own sweet voice.'</p> - -<p>"Then they sent that boy away; and, doubtless, he found his consolation -amongst troubadours and trouveres. So you see, my children, the heart is -everything—not the voice."</p> - -<p>"Yet I should not like to sing so badly as to frighten the birds away," -said Richard.</p> - -<p>So the months passed away; and meanwhile the leprosy made its insidious -progress. The red spot on the hermit's hand deepened and widened until -the centre became white as snow; and so it formed a ghastly ring, which -began to ulcerate in the centre, the ulcer eating deep into the flesh.</p> - -<p>Richard's arm was now wholly infected, and the elbow-joint began to get -useless. Evroult's disease extended to the neighbouring regions of the -face, and disfigured the poor lad terribly.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span></p><p>Such were the stages of this terrible disease; but there was little -pain attending it—only a sense of uneasiness, sometimes feverish heats -or sudden chills, resembling in their nature those which attend marsh or -jungle fevers, ague, and the like. Happily these symptoms were not -constant.</p> - -<p>And through these stages the unfortunate boys we have introduced to our -readers were slowly passing; but the transitions were so gradual that -the patient became almost hardened to them. Richard was so patient; he -had no longer a left hand, but he never complained.</p> - -<p>"It is the road, dear child, God has chosen for us, and His Name is -'Love,'" said the hermit. "Every step of the way has been foreordained -by Him Who tasted the bitter cup for us; and when we have gained the -shore of eternity we shall see that infinite wisdom ordered it all for -the best."</p> - -<p>"Is it really so? Can it be for the best?" said Evroult.</p> - -<p>"Listen, my son: this is God's Word; let me read it to you." And from -his Breviary he read this extract from that wondrous Epistle to the -Romans—</p> - -<p>"'For we know that all things work together for good to them that love -God, who are the called according to His purpose.'"</p> - -<p>"Now God has called you out of this wicked world: you might have spent -turbid, restless lives of fighting and bloodshed, chasing the phantom -called 'glory,' and then have died and gone where all hope is left -behind. Is it not better?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, <i>it is</i>," said Richard; "<i>it is</i>, Evroult, is it not—better as it -is?"</p> - -<p>"Nay, Richard, but had I been well, I had been a knight like my father. -Oh, what have we not lost!"</p> - -<p>"An awful doom at the end perhaps," said Meinhold. "Let me tell you what -I saw with mine own eyes. A rich baron died near here who had won great -renown in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> wars, in which, nevertheless, he had been as merciless as -barons too often are. Well, he left great gifts to the Church, and money -for many Masses for his soul: so he was buried with great pomp—brought -to be buried, I mean, in the priory church he had founded.</p> - -<p>"Now when we came to the solemn portion of the service, when the words -are said which convey the last absolution and benediction of the Church, -the corpse sat upright in the bier and said, in an awful tone, 'By the -justice of God, I am condemned to Hell.' The prior could not proceed; -the body was left lying on the bier; and at last it was decided so to -leave it till the next day, and then resume the service.</p> - -<p>"But the second day, when the same words were repeated, the corpse rose -again and said, 'By the justice of God, I am condemned to Hell.'</p> - -<p>"We waited till the third day, determined if the interruption occurred -again to abandon the design of burying the deceased baron in the church -he had founded. A great crowd assembled around, but only the monks dared -to enter the church where the body lay. A third time we came to the same -words in the office, and we who were in the choir saw the body rise in -the winding-sheet, the dull eyes glisten into life, and heard the awful -words for the third time, 'By the justice of God, I am condemned to -Hell.'</p> - -<p>"After a long pause, during which we all knelt, horror-struck, the prior -bade us take the body from the church, and bade his friends lay it in -unconsecrated ground, away from the church he had founded. So you see a -man of blood cannot always bribe Heaven with gifts."</p> - -<p>"It is no use then to found churches and monasteries; I have heard my -father say the same," said Evroult.</p> - -<p>"Yet in any case it is better than to build castles to become dens of -cruelty—to torture captives and spread terror through a neighbourhood."</p> - -<p>"It is pleasant to be the lord of such a castle," said<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> the incorrigible -Evroult, "and to be the master of all around."</p> - -<p>"And, alas, my boy, if it end in like manner with you as with the baron -whose story I have just related, of what avail will it all be?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, brother, we are better as we are; God meant it for our good, and -we may thank Him for it," said Richard quite sincerely.</p> - -<p>Evroult only sighed as a wolf might were he told how much more -nutritious grass is than mutton; inherited instinct, unsubdued as yet by -grace, was too strong within him. But let us admire his truthfulness; he -would not say what he did not mean. Many in his place would have said -"yes" to please his brother and the kind old hermit, but Evroult scorned -such meanness.</p> - -<p>There is little question that had he escaped this scourge he would have -made a worthy successor to Brian Fitz-Count, but—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"His lot forbade, nor circumscribed alone</div> -<div class="i1">His growing virtues but his crimes confined,</div> -<div>Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne,</div> -<div class="i1">Or shut the gates of mercy on mankind."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Still, let it be remembered, that in Stephen's days we see only the -worst side of the Norman nobility. In less than a century the barons -rallied around that man of God, Stephen Langton, and wrested Magna -Charta from the tyrant John, the worst of the Plantagenets. Proud by -that time of the name "Englishmen," they laid the foundations of our -greatness, and jealously guarded our constitutional liberties; and it -was not until after the Wars of the Roses, in which so many of the -ancient houses perished, that a Norman baron was said to be "as scarce -as a wolf," that the Bloodstained House of Tudor was enabled to trample -upon English liberty, and to reign as absolute monarchs over a prostrate -commonalty.</p> - -<p>All through the summer our boys were very happy, in spite of Evroult's -occasional longings for the world. They<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> cultivated a garden hard by -their cave, and they gathered the roots and fruits of the forest for -their frugal repast. They parched the corn; they boiled the milk and -eggs which the rustics spontaneously brought; they made the bread and -baked the oatcakes. They were quite vegetarians now, save the milk and -eggs; and throve upon their simple fare; but it took, as our readers -perceive, a long course of vegetable diet to take the fire out of -Evroult.</p> - -<p>Then came the fall of the leaf, when the trees, like some vain mortals, -put on their richest clothing wherein to die; and damps and mists arose -around, driving them within the shelter of their cave; then winter with -its chilling frosts, keener then than now, and their stream was turned -into ice. And had they not, like the ants, laid by in summer, they would -have starved sadly in winter.</p> - -<p>In the inner cave was a natural chimney, an orifice communicating with -the outer air. Fuel was plentiful in the forest, and as they sat around -the fire, Meinhold told them stories of the visible and invisible world, -more or less, of course, of a supernatural character, like those we have -already heard. His was an imaginary world, full of quaint superstitions -which were very harmless, for they left the soul even more reliant and -dependent upon Divine help; for was not this a world wherein Angels and -demons engaged in terrestrial warfare, man's soul the prize? and were -not the rites and Sacraments of the Church sent to counteract the spells -and snares of the phantom host?</p> - -<p>And as they sat around their fire, the wind made wild and awful music in -the subterranean caves: sometimes it shrieked, then moaned, as if under -the current of earthly origin there was a perpetual wail of souls in -pain.</p> - -<p>"Father, may not these passages lead down to Purgatory, or even to the -abode of the lost?"</p> - -<p>"Nay, my child, I think it only the wind;" but he shuddered as he spoke.</p> - -<p>"You think <i>they</i> lie beneath the earth, Richard?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, the heavens above the stars, which are like the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> golden nails of -its floor; the earth—our scene of conflict beneath; and the depths -below for those who fail and reject their salvation," said Meinhold, -replying for the younger boy.</p> - -<p>"Then the burning mountains of which we have heard are the portals of -hell?"</p> - -<p>"So it is commonly supposed," said the hermit. The reader will laugh at -his simple cosmogony: he had no idea, poor man, that the earth is round.</p> - -<p>"Please let me explore these caves," said Evroult.</p> - -<p>"Art thou not afraid?" said Meinhold.</p> - -<p>"No," said he; "I am never afraid."</p> - -<p>"But I fear <i>for</i> thee; there are dark chasms and a black gulf within, -and I fear, my child, lest they be tenanted by evil spirits, and that -the sounds we hear at night be not all idle winds."</p> - -<p>"You once said they were winds."</p> - -<p>"Yes, but do winds utter blasphemies?"</p> - -<p>"Never."</p> - -<p>"Of course not. Is it not written, 'O all ye winds of God, bless ye the -Lord?' Now as I lay on my bed last night, methought the sounds took -articulate form, and they were words of cursing and blasphemy, such as -might have come from a lost soul."</p> - -<p>A modern would say that the hermit had a sort of nightmare, but in those -credulous days the supernatural solution was always accepted.</p> - -<p>"And, my son, if there be, as I fear, evil spirits who lurk in the -bowels of the earth, and lure men to their destruction, I would not -allow thee to rush into danger."</p> - -<p>"No, brother, think no more of it," said Richard.</p> - -<p>And Evroult promised not to do so, if he could help it.</p> - -<p>"There be caves in the African deserts, of which I have heard, where -fiends do haunt, and terrify travellers even to death. One there was -which was, to look upon, the shadow of a great rock in a weary land, but -they who passed a night there—and it was the only resting-place in the -desert<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> for many weary miles—went mad, frightened out of their senses -by some awful vision which blasted those who gazed."</p> - -<p>"But ought Christian men to fear such things?"</p> - -<p>"No; neither ought they without a call to endanger themselves: 'He shall -give His Angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways.' Now our -way does not lie through these dark abodes."</p> - -<p>So the caves remained unexplored.</p> - -<p>But we must return to Wallingford Castle again, and the active life of -the fighting world of King Stephen's days. Suffice it for the present to -say, that the lives of the hermit and his two pupils, for such they -were, continued to roll on uneventfully for many months—indeed, until -the occurrence of totally unexpected events, which we shall narrate in -due course.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXI</span> <span class="smaller">A DEATHBED DISCLOSURE</span></h2> - -<p>An excessive rainfall during the late summer of this year destroyed the -hopes of the harvest,—such hopes as there were, for tillage had been -abandoned, save where the protection of some powerful baron gave a fair -probability of gathering in the crops. In consequence a dreadful famine -succeeded during the winter, aggravated by the intense cold, for a frost -set in at the beginning of December and lasted without intermission till -February, so that the Thames was again frozen, and the ordinary passage -of man and horse was on the ice of the river.</p> - -<p>The poor people, says the author of <i>The Acts of King Stephen</i>, died in -heaps, and so escaped the miseries of this sinful world,—a phrase of -more meaning then, in people's ears, than it is now, when life is -doubtless better worth living than it could have been then, in King -Stephen's days, when horrible and unexampled atrocities disgraced the -nation daily, and the misery of the poor was caused by the cruel tyranny -of the rich and powerful.</p> - -<p>All this time our young friend Osric continued to be the favourite -squire of Brian Fitz-Count, and, we grieve to say, became habituated to -crime and violence. He no longer shuddered as of yore at the atrocities -committed in the dungeons of the castle, or in the constant raids: the -conscience soon became blunted, and he felt an ever-increasing delight -in strife and bloodshed, the joy of the combat, and in deeds of valour.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p><p><i>Facilis descensus averno</i>, wrote the poet, or, as it has been -Englished—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"The gate of Hell stands open night and day,</div> -<div>Smooth the descent, and easy is the way;</div> -<div>But to return and view the upper skies,</div> -<div>In this the toil, in this the labour lies."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>For a long period he had not visited his grandfather—the reader will -easily guess why; but he took care that out of Brian's prodigal bounty -the daily wants of the old man should be supplied, and he thought all -was well there—he did not know that the recipient never made use of -Brian's bounty. He had become ashamed of his English ancestry: it needed -a thunder-clap to recall him to his better self.</p> - -<p>There were few secrets Brian concealed from his favourite squire, now an -aspirant for knighthood, and tolerably sure to obtain his wish in a few -more months. The deepest dungeons in the castle were known to him, the -various sources of revenue, the claims for feudal dues, the tribute paid -for protection, the rentals of lands, the purchase of forest rights, -and, less creditable, the sums extracted by torture or paid for -ransom,—all these were known to Osric, whose keen wits were often -called on to assist the Baron's more sluggish intellect in such matters.</p> - -<p>Alain was seldom at Wallingford; he had already been knighted by the -Empress Maude, and was high in her favour, and in attendance on her -person, so Osric lacked his most formidable rival in the Baron's graces.</p> - -<p>He could come and go almost when he pleased; he knew the secret exit to -the castle, only known to a few chief confidants—two or three at the -most, who had been allowed to use it on special necessity.</p> - -<p>It led to a landing-place on the bank of the river, and blindfolded -prisoners, to be kept in secret, were sometimes introduced to their -doleful lodgings through this entrance.</p> - -<p>Active in war, a favourite in the bower, possessing a good hand at -games, a quick eye for business, Osric soon<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> became a necessity to Brian -Fitz-Count: his star was in the ascendant, and men said Brian would -adopt him as his son.</p> - -<p>Constitutionally fearless, a born lover of combat, a good archer who -could kill a bird on the wing, a fair swordsman, skilled in the -exercises of chivalry,—what more was needed to make a young man happy -in those days?</p> - -<p>A quiet conscience? Well, Osric had quieted his: he was fast becoming a -convert to Brian's sceptical opinions, which alone could justify his -present course of action.</p> - -<p>The castle was increasing: the dungeon aforementioned had been built, -called Brian's Close,<a name="FNanchor_24_24" id="FNanchor_24_24"></a><a href="#Footnote_24_24" class="fnanchor">[24]</a> with surmounting towers. The unhappy William -Martel was its first inmate, and there he remained until his obstinacy -was conquered, and the Castle of Shirburne ceded to Brian, with the -large tract of country it governed and the right of way across the -Chilterns.</p> - -<p>Brian Fitz-Count was now at the height of his glory—the Empress was -mistress of half the realm; he was her chief favourite and -minister—when events occurred which somewhat disturbed his serene -self-complacency, and seemed to infer the existence of a God of justice -and vengeance.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>It was early one fine day when a messenger from the woods reached the -castle, and with some difficulty found access to Osric, bringing the -tidings that his grandfather was dying, and would fain see him once more -before he died.</p> - -<p>"Dying! well, he is very old; we must all die," was Osric's first -thought, coupled with a sense of relief, which he tried to disguise from -himself, that a troublesome Mentor was about to be removed. Now he might -feel like a <i>Norman</i>, but he had still a lingering love for the old man, -the kind and loving guardian of his early years; so he sought Brian, and -craved leave of absence.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span></p><p>"It is awkward," replied the Baron; "I was about to send thee to -Shirburne. We have conquered Martel's resolution at last. I threatened -that the rack should not longer be withheld, and that we would make him -a full foot longer than God created him. Darkness and scant food have -tamed him. Had we kept him in his first prison, with light and air, with -corn and wine, he would never have given way. After all, endurance is a -thing very dependent on the stomach."</p> - -<p>"I will return to-morrow, my lord;" and Osric looked pleadingly at him.</p> - -<p>"Not later. I cannot go to Shirburne myself, as I am expecting an -important messenger from <i>Queen</i> Maude (of course <i>he</i> called her -Queen), and can trust none other but thee."</p> - -<p>"It is not likely that any other claim will come between me and thee, my -lord; this is passing away, and I shall be wholly thine."</p> - -<p>The Baron smiled; his proud heart was touched.</p> - -<p>"Go, then, Osric," he said, "and return to-morrow."</p> - -<p>And so they parted.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>Osric rode rapidly through the woods, up the course of the brook; we -described the road in our second chapter. He passed the Moor-towns, left -the Roman camp of Blewburton on the left, and was soon in the thick maze -of swamp and wood which then occupied the country about Blewbery.</p> - -<p>As he drew near the old home, many recollections crowded upon him, and -he felt, as he always did there, something more like an Englishman. It -was for this very reason he so seldom came "home" to visit his -grandfather.</p> - -<p>He found his way across the streams: the undergrowth had all been -renewed since the fire which the hunters kindled four years agone; the -birds were singing sweetly, for it was the happy springtide for them, -and they were little affected by the causes which brought misery to less -favoured mankind; the foliage was thick, the sweet hawthorn exhaled its -perfume, the bushes were bright with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> "May." Ah me, how lovely the woods -are in spring! how happy even this world might be, had man never sinned.</p> - -<p>But within the hut were the unequivocal signs of the rupture between man -and his Maker—the tokens which have ever existed since by sin came -death.</p> - -<p>Upon the bed in the inner room lay old Sexwulf, in the last stage of -senile decay. He was dying of no distinct disease, only of general -breaking-up of the system. Man cannot live for ever; he wears out in -time, even if he escape disease.</p> - -<p>The features were worn and haggard, the eye was yet bright, the mind -powerful to the last.</p> - -<p>He saw the delight of his eyes, the darling of his old age, enter, and -looked sadly upon him, almost reproachfully. The youth took his passive -hand in his warm grasp, and imprinted a kiss upon the wrinkled forehead.</p> - -<p>"He has had all he needed—nothing has been wanting for his comfort?" -said Osric inquiringly.</p> - -<p>"We have been able to keep him alive, but he would not touch your gold, -or aught you sent of late."</p> - -<p>"Why not?" asked Osric, deeply hurt.</p> - -<p>"He said it was the price of blood, wrung, it might be, from the hands -of murdered peasants of your own kindred."</p> - -<p>Ah! that shaft went home. Osric knew it was <i>just</i>. What else was the -greater portion of the Baron's hoard derived from, save rapine and -violence?</p> - -<p>"It was cruel to let him starve."</p> - -<p>"He has not starved; we have had other friends, but the famine has been -sore in the land."</p> - -<p>"Other friends! who?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; especially the good monks of Dorchester."</p> - -<p>"What do they know of my grandfather?"</p> - -<p>Judith pursed up her lips, as much as to say, "That is my secret, and if -you had brought the thumb-screws, of which you know the use too well, -you should not get it out of me."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span></p><p>"Osric," said a deep, yet feeble voice.</p> - -<p>The youth returned to the bedside.</p> - -<p>"Osric, I am dying. They say the tongues of dying men speak sooth, and -it may be because, as the gates of eternity open before them, the -vanities of earth disappear. Now I have a last message to leave for you, -a tale to unfold before I die, which cannot fail of its effect upon your -heart. It is the secret entrusted to me when you were brought an infant -to this hut, which I was forbidden to unfold until you had gained years -of discretion. It may be, my dear child, you have not yet gained them—I -trow not, from what I hear."</p> - -<p>"What harm have mine enemies told of me?"</p> - -<p>"<i>That</i> thou shalt hear by and by; meanwhile let me unfold my tale, for -the sands of life are running out. It was some seventeen years ago this -last autumn, that thy father——"</p> - -<p>"Who was he—thou hast ever concealed his name?"</p> - -<p>"Wulfnoth of Compton."</p> - -<p>Osric started.</p> - -<p>"Doth he live?"</p> - -<p>"He doth."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"He is a monk of Dorchester Abbey. I may tell the secret now; Brian -himself could not hurt him there."</p> - -<p>"Why should he <i>wish</i> to hurt him?"</p> - -<p>"Listen, and your ears shall learn the truth. Thy father was my guest in -this hut. Seventeen years ago this last autumn he had been hunting all -day, and was on the down above, near the mound where Holy Birinus once -preached, as the sun set, when he perceived, a few miles away, the -flames of a burning house, and knew that it was his own, for he lived in -a recess of the downs far from other houses. He hurried towards the -scene, sick with fear, but it was miles away, and when he reached the -spot he saw a dark band passing along the downs, a short distance off, -in the opposite direction. His heart told him they were the -incendiaries, but he stopped not for vengeance. Love to his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> wife and -children hurried him on. When he arrived the roof had long since fallen -in; a few pitying neighbours stood around, and shook their heads as they -saw him, and heard his pitiful cries for his wife and children. Fain -would he have thrown himself into the flames, but they restrained him, -and told him he had one child yet to live for, accidentally absent at -the house of a neighbour.—It was thou, my son."</p> - -<p>"But who had burnt the house? Who had slain my poor mother, and my -brothers and sisters, if I had any?"</p> - -<p>"Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"Brian Fitz-Count!" said Osric in horror.</p> - -<p>"None other."</p> - -<p>Osric stood aghast—confounded.</p> - -<p>"Because your father would not pay tribute, maintaining that the land -was his own freehold since it had been confirmed to his father, thy -paternal grandfather, by the Norman courts, which acknowledged no -tenure, no right of possession, dating before the Conquest; but Wigod of -Wallingford was thy grandfather's friend, and he had secured to him the -possession of the ancestral domains. This Brian denied, and claimed the -rent of his vassal, as he deemed thy father. Thy father refused to obey, -and appealed to the courts, and Brian's answer was this deed of murder."</p> - -<p>Osric listened as one in a dream.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my poor father! What did he do?"</p> - -<p>"He brought thee here. 'Henceforth,' he said, 'I am about to live the -life of a hunted wolf, my sole solace to slay Normans: sooner or later I -shall perish by their hands, for Satan is on their side, and helps them, -and God and His Saints are asleep; but take care of my child; let him -not learn the sad story of his birth till he be of age; nor let him even -know his father's name. Only let him be brought up as an Englishman; and -if he live to years of discretion, thou mayst tell him all, if I return -not to claim him before then.'"</p> - -<p>"And he has never returned—never?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p><p>"Never: he became a captain of an outlawed band, haunting the forests -and slaying Normans, until, four years ago, he met Brian Fitz-Count -alone on these downs, and the two fought to the death."</p> - -<p>"And Brian conquered?"</p> - -<p>"He did, and left thy father for dead; but the good monks of Dorchester -chanced to be passing across the downs from their house at Hermitage, -and they found the body, and discovered that there was yet life therein. -They took him to Dorchester, and as he was unable to use sword or lance -again, he consented to take the vows, and become a novice. He found his -vocation, and is now, I am told, happy and useful, fervent in his -ministrations amongst the poor and helpless; but he has never yet been -here.</p> - -<p>"And now, Osric, my son," for the youth sat as one stunned, "what is it -that I hear of thee?—that thou art, like a cannibal,<a name="FNanchor_25_25" id="FNanchor_25_25"></a><a href="#Footnote_25_25" class="fnanchor">[25]</a> preying upon -thine own people; that thy hand is foremost in every deed of violence -and bloodshed; that thou art a willing slave of the murderer of thy -kindred. Boy, I wonder thy mother has not returned from the grave to -curse thee!"</p> - -<p>"Why—why did you let me become his man?"</p> - -<p>The old man felt the justice of the words.</p> - -<p>"Why did you not let me die first?"</p> - -<p>"Thou forgettest I was not by thee when thou didst consent, or I might -have prevented thee by telling thee the truth even at that terrible -moment; but when thou wast already pledged to him, I waited for the time -when I might tell thee, never thinking thou wouldst become a <i>willing</i> -slave or join in such deeds of atrocity and crime as thou hast done."</p> - -<p>"Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?"</p> - -<p>"Thou canst not return, now thou knowest all."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span></p><p>"Never; but he will seek me here."</p> - -<p>"Then thou must fly the country."</p> - -<p>"Whither shall I go? are any of my father's band left?"</p> - -<p>"Herwald, his successor, fell into the power of Brian, and we know not -what was done with him; nor whether he is living or dead."</p> - -<p>But Osric knew: he remembered the chest half filled with sharp stones -and its living victim.</p> - -<p>"One Thorold succeeded, and they still maintain a precarious existence -in the forests."</p> - -<p>"I will seek them; I will yet be true to my country, and avenge my -kindred upon Brian. But oh, grandfather, he has been so good to me! I am -his favourite, his confidant; he was about to knight me. Oh, how -miserable it all is! Would I had never lived—would I were dead."</p> - -<p>"He has been thy worst foe. He has taught thee to slay thine own people, -nay, to torture them; he has taught thee—tell me, is it not true?—even -to deny thy God."</p> - -<p>"It is true, he has; but not intentionally."</p> - -<p>"Thou owest him nought."</p> - -<p>"Yet I did love him, and would have died sooner than be faithless to -him."</p> - -<p>"So do sorcerers, as I have been told, love Satan, yet it is happy when -they violate that awful faith. Choose, my son, between thy God, thy -country, thy slaughtered kindred, and Brian."</p> - -<p>"I do choose—I renounce him: he shall never see me again."</p> - -<p>"Fly the country then; seek another clime; go on pilgrimage; take the -cross; and employ thy valour and skill against the Saracens—the -Moslems, the enemies of God."</p> - -<p>"I will, God being my helper."</p> - -<p>"Thou dost believe then in the God of thy fathers?"</p> - -<p>"I think I always did, save when Brian was near. I tried not to believe, -happily in vain."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span></p><p>"<i>He</i> will forgive thee—<i>He</i> is all-merciful. The prodigal son has -returned. Now I am weary: let me rest—let me rest."</p> - -<p>Osric wandered forth into the woods. Who shall describe his emotions? It -was as when S. Remigius said to the heathen Clovis, "Burn that thou hast -adored, and adore that thou hast burnt." But the terrible story of the -destruction of his kindred, familiar as he was with like scenes, -overcame him; yet he could not help blaming his father for his long -neglect. Why had he disowned his only surviving son? why had he not -trained him up in the ways of the woods, and in hatred of the Normans? -why had he left him to the mercies of Brian Fitz-Count?</p> - -<p>Then again came the remembrance of that strange partiality, even -amounting to fondness, which Brian had ever shown him, and he could but -contrast the coldness and indifference of his own father with the -fostering care of the awful Lord of Wallingford.</p> - -<p>But blood is thicker than water: he could no longer serve the murderer -of his kindred—Heaven itself would denounce such an alliance; yet he -did not even now wish to wreak vengeance. He could not turn so suddenly: -the old man's solution was the right one—he would fly the country and -go to the Crusades.</p> - -<p>But how to get out of England? it was no easy matter. The chances were -twenty to one that he would either meet his death from some roving band -or be forcibly compelled to join them.</p> - -<p>The solution suddenly presented itself.</p> - -<p>He would seek his father, take sanctuary at Dorchester, and claim his -aid. Even Brian could not drag him thence; and the monks of all men -would and could assist him to join the Crusades.</p> - -<p>Strong in this resolution, he returned to the cottage.</p> - -<p>"Your grandfather is asleep; you must not disturb him, Osric, my dear -boy."</p> - -<p>"Very well, my old nurse, I will sleep too; my heart is very heavy."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span></p><p>He lay down on a pile of leaves and rushes in the outer room, and slept -a troublous sleep. He had a strange dream, which afterwards became -significant. He thought that old Judith came to him and said—</p> - -<p>"Boy, go back to Wallingford; '<i>Brian</i>,' not 'Wulfnoth,' is the name of -thy father."</p> - -<p>The sands of old Sexwulf's life were running fast. The last rites of the -Church were administered to him by the parish priest of Aston Upthorpe -on the day following Osric's arrival. He made no further attempt to -enter into the subject of the last interview with his grandson. From -time to time he pressed the youth's hands, as if to show that he trusted -him now, and that all the past was forgiven; from time to time he looked -upon him with eyes in which revived affection beamed. He never seemed -able to rest unless Osric was in the room.</p> - -<p>Wearied out, Osric threw himself down upon his couch that night for -brief repose, but in the still hours of early dawn Judith awoke him.</p> - -<p>"Get up—he is passing away."</p> - -<p>Osric threw on a garment and entered the chamber. His grandfather was -almost gone; he collected his dying strength for a last blessing, -murmured with dying lips, upon his beloved boy. Then while they knelt -and said the commendatory prayer, he passed away to rejoin those whom he -had loved and lost—the wife of his youth, the children of his early -manhood—passing from scenes of violence and wrong to the land of peace -and love, where all the mysteries of earth are solved.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_24_24" id="Footnote_24_24"></a><a href="#FNanchor_24_24"><span class="label">[24]</span></a> "The last trace of a dungeon answering the above -description, with huge iron rings fixed in the walls, disappeared about -sixty or seventy years ago."—<i>History of Wallingford</i> (Hedges).</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_25_25" id="Footnote_25_25"></a><a href="#FNanchor_25_25"><span class="label">[25]</span></a> It was a remark of this kind which turned Robert Bruce -when fighting against his own people. "See," said an Englishman, as he -saw Bruce eating with unwashed and reddened hands, "that Scotchman -eating his own blood!"</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXII</span> <span class="smaller">THE OUTLAWS</span></h2> - -<p>Sad and weary were the hours to Osric which intervened between the death -and burial of his grandfather. He gazed upon the dear face, where yet -the parting look of love seemed to linger. The sense of desolation -overwhelmed him—his earthly prospects were shattered, his dreams of -ambition ended; but the dead spake not to console him, and the very -heavens seemed as brass; his only consolation that he felt his lapse had -been forgiven, that the departed one had died loving and blessing him.</p> - -<p>The only true consolation in such hour of distress is that afforded by -religion, but poor Osric could feel little of this; he had strayed so -far from the gentle precepts which had guarded his boyhood: if he -believed in religion, it was as when Satan looked into the gates of -Paradise from afar. It was not his. He seemed to have renounced his -portion and lot in it, to have sold himself to Satan, in the person of -Brian Fitz-Count.</p> - -<p>Yet, he could not even now <i>hate</i> the Baron, as he ought to have done, -according to all regulations laid down for such cases, made and -provided, ever since men began to write novels. Let the reader enter -into his case impartially. He had never known either paternal or -maternal love—the mother, who had perished, was not even a memory; -while, on the other hand, the destroyer had adopted him as a son, and -been as a father to him, distinguishing him from others by an affection -all the more remarkable as coming from a rugged nature, unused to tender -emotions. Again, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> horror with which we moderns contemplate such a -scene as his dead grandfather had described, was far less vivid in one -to whom such casualties had been of constant experience, and were -regarded as the usual incidents of warfare. Our readers can easily -imagine the way in which he would have regarded it before he had fallen -under the training of Wallingford Castle.</p> - -<p>But it was his own mother, and Brian was her murderer. Ah, if he had but -once known the gentle endearment of a fond mother's love, how different -would have been his feelings! There would have been no need then to -enforce upon him the duty of forsaking the life but yesterday opening so -brightly to his eyes, and throwing himself a waif and a stray upon the -world of strife.</p> - -<p>He walked to and fro in the woods, and thought sometimes of all he was -leaving. Sometimes of the terrible fate of her who had borne him. At -another moment he felt half inclined to conceal all, and go back to -Wallingford, as if nothing had happened; the next he felt he could never -again grasp the hand of the destroyer of his kindred.</p> - -<p>The hour came for the funeral. The corpse was brought forth on the bier -from the hut which had so long sheltered it in life. They used no -coffins in those days—it was simply wrapped in the "winding-sheet." He -turned back the linen, and gazed upon the still calm face for the last -time ere the bearers departed with their burden. Then he burst into a -passion of tears, which greatly relieved him: it is they who cannot -weep, who suffer most. His grandfather had been father, mother, and all -to him, until a very recent period: and the sweet remembrances and -associations of boyhood returned for a while.</p> - -<p>The solemn burial service of our forefathers was unlike our own—perhaps -not so soothing to the mourners, for whom our service seems made; but it -bore more immediate reference to the departed: the service was for -<i>them</i>. The prayers of the Church followed them, as in all ancient -liturgies, into that world beyond the grave, as still<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> members of -Christ's mystical body, one with us in the "Communion of Saints."</p> - -<p>The procession was in those days commonly formed at the house of the -deceased, but as Sexwulf's earthly home was far from the Church, the -body was met at the lych gate, as in modern times. First went the -cross-bearer, then the mourners, then the priest preceding the bier, -around which lighted torches were borne.</p> - -<p>Psalms were now solemnly chanted, particularly the <i>De Profundis</i> and -the <i>Miserere</i>, and at the close of each the refrain—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord,</div> -<div>And let perpetual light shine upon him."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Then followed the solemn requiem Mass, wherein the great Sacrifice, once -offered on Calvary, was pleaded for the deceased. When the last prayer -had been said, the corpse was sprinkled with hallowed water, and -perfumed with sweet incense, after which it was removed to its last -resting place. The grave was also sprinkled with the hallowed water, -emblematical of the cleansing power of the "Blood of Sprinkling"; and -the body of the ancient thane was committed to the earth, sown in -corruption, to be raised in joy unspeakable, and full of glory.</p> - -<p>Around the grave were but few mourners. Famine, pestilence, and war had -removed from time to time those who had known the old thane in his -poverty (for thane he was by birth), but there stood two or three of a -different stamp from the care-worn peasants—men clad in jerkins of -leather, tall, rugged, resolute-looking fellows. One of these watched -Osric closely, and when the last rites were over and the grave-digger -commenced his final labour of filling up the grave, he followed the -funeral party on their homeward road, as they returned to the desolate -home. At last he approached Osric.</p> - -<p>"I believe you are Osric, grandson of the true Englishman we have now -laid in the earth?"</p> - -<p>"I am that unhappy man."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span></p><p>"Thou art the son of a line of patriots. Thy father died fighting -against the oppressor, and thou art the sole representative of his -family. Canst thou remain longer in the halls of the tyrant?"</p> - -<p>"Who art thou?"</p> - -<p>"A true Englishman."</p> - -<p>"Thorold is thy name, is it not?"</p> - -<p>"How didst thou know me?"</p> - -<p>"Because my grandfather before he died revealed all to me."</p> - -<p>"Then thou wilt cast in thy lot with us?"</p> - -<p>"I think not. My father yet lives; you are mistaken in thinking him -dead. He is a monk in Dorchester Abbey."</p> - -<p>"He is dead at least to the world; Brian's lance and spear slew him, so -far as that is concerned."</p> - -<p>"But I go to ask his advice. I would fain leave this unhappy land and -join the Crusaders."</p> - -<p>"And renounce the hope of vengeance upon the slayer of thy kindred?"</p> - -<p>"I have eaten of his bread and salt."</p> - -<p>"And thou knowest all the secrets of his prison-house. Tell us, hast -thou heard of one Herwald, a follower of thy father?"</p> - -<p>"I may not tell thee;" and Osric shuddered.</p> - -<p>"The Normans have spoilt thee then, in <i>deed</i> and in <i>truth</i>. Wilt thou -not even tell us whether Herwald yet lives?"</p> - -<p>"I may not for the present; if my father bid me tell thee, thou shalt -know. Leave me for the present; I have just buried my grandfather; let -me rest for the day at least."</p> - -<p>The outlaw, for such he was, ceased to importune him at this plaintive -cry; then like a man who takes a sudden resolution, stepped aside, and -Osric passed on. When he reached home he half expected to find a -messenger from Wallingford chiding his delay; then he sat a brief while -as one who hardly knows what to do, while old Judith brought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> him a -savoury stew, and bade him eat. Several times she looked at him, like -one who is burning to tell a secret, then pursed up her lips, as if she -were striving to repress a strong inclination to speak.</p> - -<p>At length Osric rose up.</p> - -<p>"Judith," he said, "I may stay here no longer."</p> - -<p>"Thou art going to Dorchester?"</p> - -<p>"I am."</p> - -<p>"What shall I say when the Lord of Wallingford sends for thee?"</p> - -<p>"That I am gone to Dorchester."</p> - -<p>"Will that satisfy them?"</p> - -<p>"I know not. It must."</p> - -<p>"I could tell thee all that thou wilt learn at Dorchester."</p> - -<p>"Do so. It may save me the journey."</p> - -<p>"I may not. I swore on the Gospels I would not tell the secret to -thy"—she paused—"to Wulfnoth."</p> - -<p>"What! another secret?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; and one thou dost not, canst not, suspect; but, I think, didst -thou know it, thou wouldst at once return to Wallingford Castle."</p> - -<p>"Tell me—tell me all."</p> - -<p>"Wouldst have me forsworn? No; seek thy <i>father</i>." She emphasised the -word, and then added, "Ask him to let me tell thee the whole truth, if -he will not do so himself; then return and learn more than thy dead -grandfather has told thee, or could have told thee, for he knew not the -truth."</p> - -<p>"Judith, I will seek my father, and return at once after I have seen -him."</p> - -<p>"But the roads are dangerous; beware!"</p> - -<p>Osric rose; put on his tunic over a coat of light chain mail; girded his -sword to his side; put on a leathern cap, padded inside with steel, for -in those days prudent men never travelled unarmed; then he bade Judith -farewell, and started for Dorchester, making for the Synodune Hills, -beyond which well-known landmarks Dorchester lay, and beneath the hills -was a ford across the Thames.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p><p>He had not gone far—not half a mile—when he heard a rustling of the -branches beyond the brook, and a stern voice cried—</p> - -<p>"Stand."</p> - -<p>"Who art thou?" he cried.</p> - -<p>"Good men and true, and thou art our prisoner."</p> - -<p>"If so, come and take me."</p> - -<p>"Wilt thou yield thyself unharmed, on the pledge that no harm is -intended thee?"</p> - -<p>"I will not. I know thee, Thorold: I seek Dorchester and my father."</p> - -<p>"Thou wilt hardly reach it or him to-day. Stand, I say, or we must take -thee by force."</p> - -<p>"No man shall make me go with him against my will," cried Osric, and -drew his sword.</p> - -<p>Thorold laughed and clapped his hands. Quick as thought five or six men -dashed from the covers which had hidden them in all directions. Osric -drew his sword, but before he could wield it against a foe who met him -face to face, another mastered his arms from behind, and he was a -prisoner.</p> - -<p>"Do him no harm; he is his father's son. We only constrain him for his -good. Bring him along."</p> - -<p>They led, or rather bore, him through the woods for a long distance, -until they came to a tangled swamp, situated amidst bog and quagmire, -wherein any other men save those acquainted with the path might easily -have sunk up to the neck, or even lost their lives; but in the centre -was a spot of firm ground, and there, beneath the shade of a large tree, -was a fire, before which roasted a haunch of venison, and to the right -and left were sleeping hutches, of the most primitive construction.</p> - -<p>"Canst thou eat?"</p> - -<p>"I will not eat with thee."</p> - -<p>"Thy father's son should not disdain thy father's friend. Listen; if we -have made thee a prisoner, it is to save thee from thyself. The son of a -true Englishman should not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> shed the blood of his countrymen, nor herd -with his oppressors. Has not thy grandfather taught thee as much?"</p> - -<p>"He has indeed; and no longer will I do so, I promise thee."</p> - -<p>"Then wilt thou go a little farther, and help us to deliver thy -country?"</p> - -<p>"Can it be delivered? What can <i>you</i> do?"</p> - -<p>"Alas! little; but we do our best and wait better times. Look, my lad, -when things are at their worst the tide turns: the darkest hour is just -before the dawn. Think of this happy land—happy once—now the sport of -robbers and thieves! Think of the hideous dungeons where true Englishmen -rot! Think of the multitudes of innocent folk burnt, racked, tortured, -starved, driven to herd with the beasts! Think of the horrors of famine! -Think of the unburied dead—slain foully, and breeding a pestilence, -which oft destroys their murderers! Think, in short, of Wallingford -Castle and its lord——"</p> - -<p>A deep murmur of assent from the recumbent outlaws stretched on the turf -around.</p> - -<p>Osric's features twitched; he felt the force of the appeal.</p> - -<p>"What do you want of me?"</p> - -<p>"Our leader is a miserable captive in the devil's hold you have quitted, -and of which you know the secrets."</p> - -<p>"What can I do? They were told me in confidence. Can I break my honour?"</p> - -<p>"Confidence! honour! If you had promised the Devil's dam to sell your -soul, would you feel bound to do so?"</p> - -<p>"In short," said another, "we <i>will</i> have the secret."</p> - -<p>"Nay, Grimbald, patience; he will come right in time. Force is no good -with such as he. He must do what is right, because it <i>is</i> right; and -when he sees it, he will join us heart and soul, or he is not the son of -Wulfnoth."</p> - -<p>"He has shown little paternal care for me; yet when you seized me I was -about to seek his direction. Why not let me go, and let him decide for -me?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span></p><p>"A truce to folly. We know what Wulfnoth of old would have said, when -he was our leader. He gave himself heart and soul to the cause—to -avenge thy slaughtered kinsfolk. And now that one whom he trusted and -loved well is a prisoner in that hell which you have left, can we think -that he would hesitate about your duty? Why then waste time in -consulting him? I appeal to your conscience. Where is Herwald?"</p> - -<p>Osric was silent.</p> - -<p>"By the memory of thy grandfather."</p> - -<p>Still silence.</p> - -<p>"Of thy murdered mother, expiring in the flames which consumed thy -brothers and sisters."</p> - -<p>Osric gave a loud cry.</p> - -<p>"No more," he said, "no more; I will tell thee: Herwald lives."</p> - -<p>"Where?"</p> - -<p>"In the lowest dungeon of Wallingford Castle."</p> - -<p>"Hast thou seen him?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Does he suffer torture?"</p> - -<p>"Terribly."</p> - -<p>"Of what nature?"</p> - -<p>"I hardly dare to tell thee."</p> - -<p>"The sachentage?"</p> - -<p>"As bad as that; the crucet-chest—the——"</p> - -<p>"Stay—wilt thou help us to deliver him?"</p> - -<p>"Save my honour."</p> - -<p>"Honour! honour! honour!" and they laughed the word to scorn, till the -woods caught the echoes, and seemed to repeat it, "Honour! honour!"</p> - -<p>"Get that delusion out of thy mind. To fight for one's country, nay, to -die for it, that is true honour; to deliver the outcast and poor, to -save them from the hands of the ungodly,—it is for this we have brought -thee here. Let me tell thee what I have seen, nay, thou hast seen as -much, and of the woes of thy bleeding country, bleeding at every<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> pore. -If the memory of thy mother stir thee not up, then thou art <span class="smaller">NIDDERING</span>."</p> - -<p>At the sound of this word—this term of utter reproach to an English -ear, worse than "coward" a thousand times, suggesting a depth of -baseness beyond conception—Osric started.</p> - -<p>"And deservest to die," said the outlaw who had just spoken.</p> - -<p>Osric's pride took alarm at once; his downcast look changed.</p> - -<p>"Slay me, then," he said; "the sooner the better."</p> - -<p>"Nay, brother, that is not the way—thou wilt spoil it all; we would win -him by <i>conviction</i>, not by threats."</p> - -<p>"Let me have an hour to think."</p> - -<p>"Take some food."</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>They left him alone, but he knew he was watched, and could not escape, -nor did he wish to; he was yielding to his destiny.</p> - -<p>One hour of such mental anguish—the boast of chivalry, the pomp of -power, the false glamour, all giving way to the <i>conviction</i> that the -Englishmen were <i>right</i>, and their cause that of truth and justice, nay, -of God!</p> - -<p>At the end of the hour he rose to his feet and looked around. The men -were seated at their repast. He approached them.</p> - -<p>"Give me of your food."</p> - -<p>They did so. Thorold's eyes sparkled with delight; he saw what it meant.</p> - -<p>They waited for him to speak; but he satisfied hunger first, then he -drank, and afterwards said calmly—</p> - -<p>"Is there any oath of admission to your band?"</p> - -<p>"Only to swear to be true to England and Englishmen till death, and to -wage war against their oppressors, of whatsoever degree, with all your -powers. So help you God."</p> - -<p>Osric repeated the oath solemnly and distinctly.</p> - -<p>The outlaws shouted with joy.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p><p>"And now," he said, "let us talk of Herwald, and I will do all I can to -help you to deliver him; but it will be a difficult task. I must take -time to consider it."</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>Meanwhile old Judith sat at home in the lonely hut, as she had done on -the occasion recorded in the fourth chapter of our tale. Again she sat -by the fire which smoked on the hearth, again she sang quaint snatches -of old songs.</p> - -<p>"It is a wise son which knows his own sire," she said, and going to a -corner of the hut, opened once more her poor old rickety chest, from -which she took the packet of musty parchment, containing a ring with a -seal, a few articles of infant attire, a little red shoe, a small frock, -and a lock of maiden's hair.</p> - -<p>"Poor Ethra," she said, "how strange thy fate!" and she kissed the lock -of hair again and again. "And now thy boy may inherit his father's -honours and titles unchecked, for his supposed grandfather is here no -longer to claim him, and his half-brothers are lepers. Wulfnoth never -loved him—never. Why, then, should he not give him up to his true -father? Vengeance! to be sure, he should not desire this now. A monk, -fie! fie! Wulfnoth might seek it; Father Alphege cannot, may not. He -will tell Osric the whole truth, or refer him to me; and he may go back -with a clear conscience to Wallingford; and I shall have the proofs -ready, which the Lord of Wallingford would give all he has to possess. -Here they are, stripped from the dead attendants or found on the -helpless babe."</p> - -<p>Just then she heard steps approaching; she jealously hid her treasures.</p> - -<p>A page dismounted from his horse at the door of the hut.</p> - -<p>"Is the squire Osric within?"</p> - -<p>"Enter."</p> - -<p>A youth of fourteen summers, just what Osric had been when he <i>began</i>, -entered the door, and looked curiously around. "What! was <i>this</i> Osric's -home—Osric, the Baron's favourite?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p><p>"He has gone to Dorchester Abbey."</p> - -<p>"Dorchester Abbey! he was to have returned last night to Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"He stayed for the funeral."</p> - -<p>The boy looked amazed. What was an old man's funeral compared with -Brian's orders?</p> - -<p>"And his grandfather, dying, bade him go to Dorchester, whence he will -speedily return, and bring, yes, bring with him that shall make full -atonement for his offence, if offence it be."</p> - -<p>"It had need be something very valuable then. It might cost some of us -our heads, did we do the like."</p> - -<p>"They will not hurt a hair of his, I am sure. You shall have him with -you soon. Ah, yes! very soon."</p> - -<p>The boy shook his head, looked once more curiously at the old woman and -the hut, and departed, muttering—</p> - -<p>"I should be sorry to stand in Osric's shoes; but then he is a -favourite;" and young Louis of Trouville, page to Brian for the good of -his education, rode down the brook.</p> - -<p>"After all, he is no gentleman. Why did my lord choose a page from -amongst the peasants?"</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>Many had asked that question before.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIII</span> <span class="smaller">THE PESTILENCE (AT BYFIELD)</span></h2> - -<p>The time had passed away slowly at the lazar-house at Byfield. Life was -tedious there to most people, least of all to the good Chaplain, Father -Ambrose; for he loved his poor lepers with a love which could only come -direct from Him Who loved us all. He did not feel time lag. Each day had -its appointed duties: in holy offices of prayer and praise, or in his -labour of love, the days sped on. He felt the strain, it is true, but he -bore it. He looked for no holiday here; it could never come. He was -cloistered and confined by that general belief in the contagion of -leprosy, which was so strong in the world that many would have slain a -leper had they met him outside the defined boundaries, or set their -mastiffs to tear him in pieces.</p> - -<p>One day Father Ambrose was seated in his cell after Terce, when one of -the attendants came to him with a serious and anxious face.</p> - -<p>"I should be glad for you to come and see Gaspard; he has been very ill -all night, and there are some strange symptoms about him."</p> - -<p>The Chaplain rose, and followed the "keeper" into the chamber above, -where in a small "cubicle," separated by a screen from the other -couches, the sick man tossed.</p> - -<p>"He is delirious; how long has he been so?"</p> - -<p>"Nearly all the night."</p> - -<p>"And in a raging fever?—but this blackness; I never saw one so dark -before."</p> - -<p>It was, alas, too true. The body was fast assuming a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> strange dark, yet -livid, hue, as if the blood were ink instead of red blood.</p> - -<p>"Lift up the left arm," said the Chaplain.</p> - -<p>Near the armpits were two or three swellings about the size of a -pigeon's egg. The Chaplain saw them and grew serious.</p> - -<p>"It is the black fever—the plague!" almost screamed the horrified -attendant.</p> - -<p>"Keep cool, brother John; nothing is gained by excitement, and all is -lost by fear; put your trust in God."</p> - -<p>"But I have <i>touched</i> him—drawn in his infected breath—I am a dead -man."</p> - -<p>The Chaplain heeded him not.</p> - -<p>"Brother, canst thou speak?" he said to the sick man.</p> - -<p>A moan was the only reply.</p> - -<p>"Brother, dost thou know that thou art dying?"</p> - -<p>A moan again.</p> - -<p>"And that the best of us have not lived as we should?"</p> - -<p>Another sigh, so dolorous.</p> - -<p>"And dost thou believe that God's dear Son died for thee?"</p> - -<p>A faint gesture of assent.</p> - -<p>"Say thou, brother, 'I put the pitiful Passion of Thy dear Son between -me and my sins.'"<a name="FNanchor_26_26" id="FNanchor_26_26"></a><a href="#Footnote_26_26" class="fnanchor">[26]</a></p> - -<p>"I do, oh God. Sweet Jesus, save me."</p> - -<p>And then he relapsed into an unconscious state, in which he continued -till he died.</p> - -<p>"We must bury him directly, brother John."</p> - -<p>The attendant shuddered.</p> - -<p>"Yes, we two; we have been in danger, no one else need come. You go and -tell the grave-digger to have the grave ready directly, and the moment -it is ready we two will bury him."</p> - -<p>"Oh God! I am a dead man," said poor brother John.</p> - -<p>"Nay, we cannot die till our time come, and if so, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> way <span class="smcap">He</span> chooses -is best. We all owe <span class="smcap">Him</span> a death, you know. Fear is the worst thing you -can entertain now; it brings on the very thing you dread. Overcome -<i>that</i>, at all events, if you can."</p> - -<p>And the poor frightened fellow went out to do as he was bidden.</p> - -<p>Then the brave and good man composed the corpse; placed a crucifix on -its breast; drew the bed-clothes round it to serve as a winding-sheet, -for they must be buried or burned; said the commendatory prayers; and -walked for a time in the fresh air.</p> - -<p>He knew his own danger, but he heeded it not. All things, he was -persuaded, worked together for good to them that loved God; besides, -what had he to live for?—his poor sheep—the lepers? Yes; but God could -raise up a better man than he, so in his humility he thought; and if he -were—called home——</p> - -<p>Did not the thought of that Purgatory, which was in the Creed of his -time, come between him and the notion of rest?</p> - -<p>Not at all; he was content to leave all that; if his Father thought he -needed such correction, he was willing to pass through it; and like a -dear son to kiss the rod, as he had done on earth, safe in the hands of -his Father.</p> - -<p>Neither did his thoughts turn much to the Saints. Of course he believed, -as every one did then, that it was right to invoke them—and he had done -so that day in the prescribed commendatory prayers for the dying; but, -as stars fade away in the presence of the sun, so did all these things -fade away before his love for the central sun of his soul—his crucified -Lord.</p> - -<p>The hours passed away in rapt emotion; he never felt so happy as that -afternoon.</p> - -<p>Then came the grave-digger.</p> - -<p>"The grave is ready."</p> - -<p>"Tell brother John to come and help."</p> - -<p>"I do not think he is able; he seems unwell himself."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span></p><p>"Then you and I must do it."</p> - -<p>"Willingly—where you lead I follow."</p> - -<p>"Come up the stairs."</p> - -<p>They went to the dormitory; took the sad burden, wrapped in the -bed-clothing as it was, and bore it to the grave; the priest said the -burial office; the grave-digger filled up the grave; and all was over -with poor Gaspard.</p> - -<p>But before that sun set the Chaplain was called to brother John, and -that same night the poor fellow died of the fever—fear, doubtless, -having been a predisposing cause.</p> - -<p>The terror began; the facts could not long be concealed. At Evensong -that night the Chaplain spoke to them in a short address, so full of -vivid faith and Christian hope that those who heard it never forgot -it.—"Why should they fear death? They had led a living death, a dying -life, these many years. Their exile was over. The Father called them -home. They had long done with this wretched world. The Christian's true -fatherland was Heaven."</p> - -<p>So he spoke rather like an Angel than a man. But they could not all rise -to it—how could it be expected? life clings to life. When Newgate was -on fire in the great riots, the most anxious to be saved were some -condemned criminals left for execution on the morrow.</p> - -<p>But for a select few, all fear was gone.</p> - -<p>Such men were needed: they had their senses about them; they could help -others to the last; they, and they alone, dared to attend the dying, to -bury the dead.</p> - -<p>Now came the great trial—the confinement. The lepers mutinied against -being shut up with death, they longed for liberty, they panted for it; -they would not be imprisoned with the plague.</p> - -<p>Then began positive fighting. The poor patients had to be restrained by -main force, until the Chaplain came, and by his great power over their -minds, persuaded them to stay.</p> - -<p>Every one was asking, "How came it amongst us?" and the mystery was -explained when they were told of a bale of cloth for their tailor -consigned to the house from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> <i>Levant, viâ</i> Bristol, and which in all -the long tedious voyage had retained the infection ever living in the -East.</p> - -<p>Day by day fresh victims were carried to the grave. The plague was -probably simply a malignant form of typhus, nourished in some human -hotbed to the highest perfection. The <i>bacillus</i> or germ is, we trust, -extinct, but otherwise enough might be bred in a bottle to poison a -county, as we have heard stated.</p> - -<p>All at once the heaviest blow fell upon them.</p> - -<p>Father Ambrose was walking in the grounds, taking rest of mind after -intense mental and bodily exertion, when he felt a sudden throb of -violent heat, followed by an intense chill and a sickening sensation -accompanied by faintness. He took off his cassock—he saw the fatal -swelling.</p> - -<p>"My summons is come," he said. "Oh, my Father, I thank Thee for calling -me home; but these poor sheep whom Thou hast committed to my care, what -shall they do?"</p> - -<p>Then he walked quietly to his cell and lay down on his bed. He had -watched the disease in others; he entertained no hope of recovery. "In a -few hours I shall see Him face to face Whom I have loved," said he.</p> - -<p>They came and found him. Never was man more patient; but that mediæval -idea of intense self-denial was with him to the last. He refused water: -they thought him delirious.</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">He</span> would not drink," he said.</p> - -<p>They saw his thoughts were on the Cross, and that he was treading the -pathway opened by the Crucified One, and they said no more.</p> - -<p>He had received the Holy Communion that morning—his last Communion; the -usual rites could not be attempted now. Before he relapsed into the last -stage, they heard the words in his native tongue—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! ouvrez moi."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>They were his last. The door was open and he had entered. Ah, who shall -follow even in imagination, and trace his progress to the gates of day?</p> -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Go wing thy flight from star to star,</div> -<div>From world to luminous world, as far</div> -<div class="i1">As the universe spreads its flaming hall:</div> -<div>Take all the pleasures of all the spheres,</div> -<div>And multiply each through endless years,</div> -<div class="i1">One moment of Heaven is worth them all."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>But those left behind in the lazar-house—ah me! deprived of the only -man who had gained an empire over their hearts, and could control -them—what of them?</p> - -<p>They lost <i>all</i> control, and broke through all discipline; they -overpowered their keepers, who indeed scarcely tried their best to -restrain them, sharing the common fear; they broke the gates open; they -poured forth and dispersed all through the country, carrying the -infection wherever they went.</p> - -<p>Still this was not a very wide scope; the woods, the forests, were their -chief refuge. And soon the story was told everywhere. It was heard at -the lordly towers of Warwick; it was told at the stately pile of -Kenilworth; it was proclaimed at Banbury. It startled even those violent -men who played with death, to be told that a hundred lepers were loose, -carrying the double curse of plague and leprosy wherever they went.</p> - -<p>"It must be stamped out," said the stern men of the day: "we must hunt -them down and slay them."</p> - -<p>So they held a council at Banbury, where all the neighbouring -barons—who were generally of one party in that neighbourhood—took -counsel.</p> - -<p>They decided that proclamation should be everywhere made; that if the -lepers returned to the lazar-house at Byfield within three days, all -should be forgiven; but otherwise, that the barons should collect their -savage hounds, and hunt them down in the forest.</p> - -<p>And this was the very forest where we left poor Evroult dying—the -forest of the hermitage which these poor lepers were tolerably sure to -find out, and to seek shelter.</p> - -<p>And here we will leave our poor friends for a while, and return to -Wallingford Castle.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_26_26" id="Footnote_26_26"></a><a href="#FNanchor_26_26"><span class="label">[26]</span></a> This is an extant form of those ages for the -reconciliation of a penitent at the last gasp.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIV</span> <span class="smaller">THE OPENING OF THE PRISON HOUSE</span></h2> - -<p>Great was the surprise and anger of Brian Fitz-Count that his favourite -page should dare to tarry, even to bury his grandfather, much less to -fulfil an idle vow, when he had bidden him return at once.</p> - -<p>He cared so little for sacred things, whether the true gold of the mint, -or the false superstitions of the age, that he could not understand how -they should influence other men.</p> - -<p>Yet he knew they did exercise a strong power over both the imagination -and the will, and sometimes had acknowledged that the world must have a -religion, and this was as good as any other.</p> - -<p>"Let Osric believe as much or as little as he likes," he said, "only he -must remember that Brian Fitz-Count is the deity to be worshipped in -Wallingford Castle, and that he allows no other worship to interfere -with that due to him."</p> - -<p>The next morning Osric reappeared, and at once sought the presence of -his lord.</p> - -<p>"Thou art more than a day behind?"</p> - -<p>"I tarried to bury my grandfather, and to execute a vow in his behalf."</p> - -<p>"That is well; but remember, Osric, I permit none here to disobey my -orders, either for the sake of the living or the dead. He <i>is</i> dead, -then?"</p> - -<p>"He died the night I arrived."</p> - -<p>"May he rest in peace," said Brian carelessly, feeling<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> glad in his -heart that the old man was gone, and that there was no one left to -dispute his dominion over the heart of Osric.</p> - -<p>"But for my grandfather's vow I had returned last night after the -funeral. I have discharged my debt to him, and beg pardon for my delay. -I now belong to you."</p> - -<p>It was strange, however, the wooden tone in which he spoke, like a -schoolboy reciting a lesson.</p> - -<p>"And thou shalt find in me a father, if thou always continuest to -deserve it—as by obedience thou hast hitherto done—save this lapse, in -place of him whom thou hast lost."</p> - -<p>"Am I to go to Shirburne?"</p> - -<p>"I have sent Malebouche. There are certain matters of business to talk -over. I want thee to turn scribe for the rest of the day, and write -letters for me. It is a thing I could never accomplish. All I can do is -to sign my name, or better still, affix my seal. My pen has been the -sword, my book the country around; wherein I write my black characters, -as men say."</p> - -<p>Yes, he did indeed, and the fame remains till this day.</p> - -<p>So all the rest of the day Osric wrote at his lord's dictation. There -was some especial correspondence with the leaders of the party, and that -night messengers were speeding north, south, east, and west with the -missives Osric had penned.</p> - -<p>Late in the day, while Osric was walking on the ramparts, a page came -after him and bade him hasten to the bower of the Lady Maude. The manner -was urgent, and he went at once.</p> - -<p>He found the lady in tears, surrounded by her handmaidens, who were -standing on each side of her "curule" chair, endeavouring in vain to -console her.</p> - -<p>The Baron was striding up and down the spacious room, which, as we have -said, overlooked the river.</p> - -<p>"Read this, Osric," he said, and put a letter into his hands. "I can but -half understand it."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span></p><p>Osric read. The letter came from the governor of the lazar-house, and -contained a succinct account of the terrible visitation we have recorded -in our last chapter.</p> - -<p>"But our boys are at the hermitage, dame," said Brian; "they are safe; -you need not weep."</p> - -<p>Osric read on—how that the lepers had broken loose and taken to the -woods. Then came the significant close: "So the neighbouring barons and -knights of all degrees are gathering together their dogs, to hunt them -in the woods; and I greatly fear lest harm happen to thy sons, who have -been, with thy permission, left to the care of the hermit Meinhold, -dwelling within the same forest."</p> - -<p>It was a terrible thought to the poor mother: the affliction of her boys -was the great burden of her life. Yet the customs of the age had -required the sacrifice of her. She had been forbidden, perhaps it was -kind, to visit them, lest the sight of their state should but increase -her woe; but they were never long out of her thoughts.</p> - -<p>"Husband! father! thou must go and protect them, or I will go myself."</p> - -<p>"Enough, Maude, enough; I will start at once with a troop of a hundred -men, and whatever they do in the rest of the forest, methinks I shall -enforce respect for the hermit's cave—where we are told they are so -happy. Osric, send Osborne to me for orders at once."</p> - -<p>"Am I to go, my lord?"</p> - -<p>"No; you must remain here, I have special reasons. You will be in -attendance on the Lady Maude."</p> - -<p>Osric's eyes glistened.</p> - -<p>"You will see that certain orders I shall leave are carried out, in -reference to the business in which you are employed. If any question -your right to command, and refuse obedience, show them this ring. You -see how I trust you, my son."</p> - -<p>"Would he were our son," sobbed the Lady Maude; "but I have none to -comfort me; my poor boys, torn from me—torn from me. Hasten, my lord; -it is far to Byfield—very far; you may not be in time."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span></p><p>"I will bring thee the hands and feet of any who have dared to harm -them."</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>That same hour the Baron departed with his troop, and Osric was busy for -a while in executing his commission. He occupied his own little chamber -in the keep; it was at a great height above the hill on which the lofty -tower was raised, and the view of the country was most extensive.</p> - -<p>When nightfall came, Osric was here alone, and he did a very singular -thing.</p> - -<p>He lit a lamp, and placed it in his window; then he took it away in a -very undecided fashion; then he replaced it again; then he took it away, -and finally replaced it.</p> - -<p>"The die is cast," he said.</p> - -<p>Two roads lay before him,—it was an awful crisis in his life,—two -roads, utterly different, which could only lead to most opposite issues, -and the strife was <i>which</i> to choose. The way was yet open.</p> - -<p>But to enter either he must break his faith. Here lay the sting to his -generous heart.</p> - -<p>The one road led to honour, to riches, to power, to glory even; and had -all which could delight a young warrior's mind, but coupled with the -support of foul tyranny, the uprooting of the memory of his kindred and -their woes, and the breaking of his newly-pledged faith to the outlaws.</p> - -<p>The other road led to a life of obscurity and poverty, perhaps to a -death of ignominy, and certainly began with an act of treachery towards -one who, however cruel to others, had loved and trusted him, of which -the ring he bore was a token and a pledge.</p> - -<p>It was when he thought of this that he withdrew the light.</p> - -<p>Then came the remembrance of the sufferers in the foul dens below.</p> - -<p>"It is the cause of God, and truth, and freedom, and justice, and all -that is holy;" and he replaced the light.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p><p>Then he knelt; he could pray now—</p> - -<p>"Oh God, direct me—help me—show some token of Thine approval this -night. Even now I believe in Thee as my grandfather did. Oh save me, and -help Thy poor oppressed ones this night; deliver them from darkness and -the shadow of death, and break their bonds asunder."</p> - -<p>Then he went to attend at the supper of the Lady Maude, where he was -received with marked attention. He had of course been trained in all the -etiquette exacted from pages and squires, and was expected to make -himself agreeable in a hundred ways, to carve the joints with elegance, -and to wait upon the ladies.</p> - -<p>This part of his duty he had often delighted to execute, but to-night he -was "distrait." The poor lady was in so much grief herself at the danger -of her sons, whom she had not seen for five years, that she did not -notice his abstraction, as she otherwise certainly would have done.</p> - -<p>Then it fell ordinarily to the province of the squires and pages to -amuse the party,—to sing songs, recite romaunts, play the troubadour, -or to join in such games as chess and draughts, lately imported from the -East, with the fair ladies of the little court,—when they dined, or -rather supped, in private as now. But no songs were sung this night—no -tales of valour or chivalry recited; and the party broke up early. -Compline was said by the chaplain who was present, for in the bower of -so great a lady there must be respect for forms; and then the fair ones -went to bed.</p> - -<p>Osric was now at liberty.</p> - -<p>"Art thou for a composing draught to-night, my squire?" said the -chaplain. "I can compound a fair night-cap for an aching head, if thou -wilt come to my cell."</p> - -<p>"Nay, my calls are urgent now; I have been detained too long by my -duties as a squire of dames. I have orders for our worthy gaoler Tustain -and his sons."</p> - -<p>"Not to put any prisoners on the rack to-night? it is late for that; let -the poor things rest till to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"It is not to that effect that my orders run."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p><p>"They say you did not like that kind of thing at first."</p> - -<p>"Neither do I now, but I have perforce got used to it."</p> - -<p>"<i>Bon soir</i>;" and the chaplain sauntered off to drink mulled sack. It -was a shocking thing that the Church, in his person, should set her seal -of approbation on such tyranny as that of a Norman hold in Stephen's -days.</p> - -<p>Osric descended to the foot of the tower, crossed the greensward, and -entered the new dungeons of Brian's Close. On the ground-floor were the -apartments of Tustain the gaoler, extending over the whole basement of -the tower and full of the hateful implements of his office.</p> - -<p>There were manacles, gyves, and fetters. There were racks and -thumbscrews, scourges, pincers, and other instruments of mediæval -cruelty. There were arms of various kinds—swords, axes, lances, bows -and arrows, armour for all parts of the body, siege implements, and the -like. There were lanterns and torches for the service of the dungeons. -There were rows of iron basons, plates, and cups for the food of the -prisoners. Lastly, there were many huge keys.</p> - -<p>In the midst of all this medley stood a solid oak table, and thereat sat -Tustain the gaoler-in-chief—now advanced in years and somewhat impotent -on his feet, but with a heart as hard as the nether millstone—with his -three sons, all gaolers, like himself, eating their supper. A fairly -spread table was before them—very different from the fare they supplied -to their prisoners, you may be sure.</p> - -<p>"We have locked up for the night, and are taking our ease, Master -Osric."</p> - -<p>"I grieve to disturb thy ease, but my lord has sent me to thee, -Tustain."</p> - -<p>"He must be some leagues away at this moment."</p> - -<p>"But he has left orders by me; see his ring."</p> - -<p>Tustain recognised the token in a moment, and bowed before it.</p> - -<p>"Wilt not take some food? Here is a noble haunch of venison, there some -good trout, there some wood-pigeons in a pie—fish, flesh, and fowl."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p><p>"Nay, I have just supped with our lady."</p> - -<p>"Thou art fortunate. I remember when thou wert brought in here with thy -grandfather as a prisoner, and saw the torture-chamber for the first -time."</p> - -<p>"More startling changes have happened, and may yet; but my business—Art -tired, my men?"</p> - -<p>"We have had little to do to-day—no raid, no convoy of goods to pursue, -no fighting, no hunting; it has been dull."</p> - -<p>"But there is work afoot <i>now</i>, and stern work. You, Richard, must take -horse and bear this letter to Shirburne, where you must give it to -Malebouche, and wait his orders; you, Tristam, must carry this to -Faringdon Castle, and bring back a reply; you, Aubrey, to the Castle of -the Black Lady of Speen."</p> - -<p>They looked astonished—as well they might—to be sent out for rides, of -some fifteen miles each, at that hour.</p> - -<p>But the ring—like the genii who were the slaves of the Lamp, so were -they slaves of the Ring.</p> - -<p>"And who will help me with the prisoners?" said Tustain.</p> - -<p>"You are permitted to call in such of the men-at-arms as you please."</p> - -<p>"Why did he not send men-at-arms? You are sure he said my sons were to -go? Why, if we were suddenly called to put any of my lambs to the -torture, these men-at-arms would hardly know how to do it."</p> - -<p>"You could direct them," said Osric. Then to the sons, "Now, my men, -haste speed."</p> - -<p>In half an hour they were gone.</p> - -<p>"A cup of sack for consolation—the best wine from our lord's own -cellar. I have brought thee a flask."</p> - -<p>"Wilt thou stay and help me discuss it?"</p> - -<p>"For a few minutes only; I have much yet to do."</p> - -<p>Osric produced the flask from the gypsire which hung from the belt of -his tunic.</p> - -<p>Then the old man took down two goblets, and Osric poured the wine.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p><p>The old man drank freely; Osric but sparingly. Soon the former began to -talk incoherently, and at last he cried—</p> - -<p>"What wine was that? Why, it was Old Nick's own brewing. I can't keep my -eyes open."</p> - -<p>Half suspecting something amiss, the old man rose, as if going to the -door; but Osric threw his arms around him, and as he did so the old man -gave way to the influence of the powerful narcotic which the youth had -mingled with his drink, and fell like a log on the couch to which Osric -had dragged him.</p> - -<p>"I hope I have not killed him; but if I have it is only half his -deserts. Now for my perilous task. How this ring has helped me!"</p> - -<p>He went first and strongly barred the outer door, then traversed the -upper corridor till he came to a room in the new buildings, which was a -private den of the Baron. It was panelled with oak, and pressing a knob -on the panel, a secret door opened, disclosing a flight of steps. These -went down into the bowels of the earth; then a narrow passage opened at -right angles to the corridor above, which Osric traversed. It was damp -and slimy, and the air had a deathly odour; but it soon came to an end, -and Osric ascended a similar flight of steps to the one by which he had -descended; again he drew out the key and opened an iron door at the -summit. He stood upon a terrace at the edge of the river, and just upon -a level with the water.</p> - -<p>The night was dark and stormy—not a star could be seen. The stream -rippled by as Osric stood and listened. The clock struck twelve, or -rather the man on duty with an iron hammer struck the bell in the tower -of St. Peter's Church twelve times with his hammer to tell the midnight -hour. A few minutes of feverish suspense—the night air fanned his -heated brow—when he heard muffled oars close by, heard rather the -splash of the water as it fell from the upraised blades. A large boat -was at hand.</p> - -<p>"Who comes?" said Osric in a low voice.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span></p><p>"Englishmen, good and true."</p> - -<p>The outlaws stood on the terrace.</p> - -<p>"Follow me," said Osric.</p> - -<p>In a few minutes they were all assembled in the heart of the stronghold -in the gaoler's room, where the gaoler himself lay snoring like a hog.</p> - -<p>"Shall we slay him?" said they, naturally looking on the brute with -abhorrence.</p> - -<p>"No," said Osric; "remember our compact—no bloodshed save in -self-defence. He will sleep till this time to-morrow night, when I fear -Brian will do for him what he has done for thousands."</p> - -<p>"What is that?"</p> - -<p>"Hang him."</p> - -<p>"He deserves it. Let the gaoler and the hangman hang."</p> - -<p>"Amen."</p> - -<p>"Now for the keys," said Thorold.</p> - -<p>Osric knew them all, and taking them, led the liberators down below, -into the gloomy corridor from which the dungeons opened on either side. -The men shuddered as they stood between these dens of cruelty, from -which moans, faint and low, from time to time issued like the sighing of -the plaintive wind.</p> - -<p>One by one they opened these dens, and took the prisoners out. Many were -too weak, from torture and privation, to stand, and had to be supported. -They hardly understood at first what it all meant; but when they knew -their deliverers, were delirious with joy.</p> - -<p>At last they came to the cell where the "crucet-box" was placed, and -there they found Herwald. Osric opened the chest, of which the lid was -only a framework of iron bars. He was alive, and that was all; his hair -was white as snow, his mind almost gone.</p> - -<p>"Are the angels come to take me out of Purgatory?" he said.</p> - -<p>"Herwald, do you not know me?" said Thorold.</p> - -<p>It was vain; they could evoke no memory.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p><p>Then they went to the torture-chamber, where a plaintive, whimpering -cry struck their ears. In the corner stood a boy on tiptoes; a thin cord -attached to a thumbscrew, imprisoning both his poor thumbs, was passed -over a pulley in the ceiling, and then tied to a peg in the wall, so -that the poor lad could only find firm footing at the expense of the -most exquisite pain; and so he had been left for the night, the accursed -iron eating into the flesh of his thumbs all the time.</p> - -<p>"My boy! my boy!" said Thorold, and recognised his own son Ulric, whom -he had only lost that week, and traced to the castle—hence his anxiety -for Osric's immediate aid—and the poor father wept.</p> - -<p>Happily Osric had the key of the thumbscrew, and the lad was soon set -free.</p> - -<p>"Break up all the instruments of torture," said Thorold.</p> - -<p>Axes were at their girdles: they smashed all the hateful paraphernalia. -No sound could possibly be heard above; the depth of the dungeons and -the thickness of the walls gave security.</p> - -<p>"Lock up all the cells, all the outer doors, and bring the keys; we will -throw them into the river."</p> - -<p>It took a long time to get the poor disabled victims through the -passages—many had to be carried all the way; but they were safely -brought to the large boat, and placed on beds of straw or the like; not -one sentinel taking the alarm, owing to the darkness and the storm.</p> - -<p>"Now for Dorchester Abbey," said Osric. "We must take sanctuary, before -daybreak, for all these poor captives, they are incapable of any other -mode of escape."</p> - -<p>"And we will attend as an escort," said the outlaws. "Then for the -forest."</p> - -<p>So Osric atoned for his residence in Wallingford Castle.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXV</span> <span class="smaller">THE SANCTUARY</span></h2> - -<p>The heavily-laden boat ascended the stream with its load of rescued -captives, redeemed from their living death in the dungeons of Brian's -stronghold.</p> - -<p>The night continued intensely dark, a drizzling rain fell; but all this -was in favour of the escape. Upon a moonlight night this large boat must -have been seen by the sentinels, and followed.</p> - -<p>There was of course no "lock" at Bensington in those days, consequently -the stream was much swifter than now; and it was soon found that the -load they bore in their barge was beyond the strength of the rowers. But -this was easily remedied: a towing rope was produced, and half a dozen -of Thorold's band drew the bark up stream, while another half-dozen -remained on board, steered or rowed, or attended to the rope at the head -of the boat, as needed.</p> - -<p>Osric was with them: he intended to go to Dorchester and see his father, -and obtain his approbation of the course he was pursuing and direction -for the future.</p> - -<p>All that night the boat glided up stream; their progress was, of -necessity, slow. The groans of the poor sufferers, most of whom had -endured recent torture, broke the silence of the night, otherwise -undisturbed, save by the rippling of the water against the prow of the -boat.</p> - -<p>That night ever remained fixed in the memory of Osric,—the slow ascent -of the stream; the dark banks gliding by; the occasional cry of the men -on the shore, or the man at the prow, as the rope encountered -difficulties in its<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> course; the joy of the rescued, tempered with -apprehension lest they should be pursued and recaptured, for they were, -most of them, quite unable to walk, for every one was more or less -crippled; the splash of the rain; the moan of the wind; the occasional -dash of a fish,—all these details seemed to fix themselves, trifles as -they were, on the retina of the mind.</p> - -<p>Osric meditated much upon his change of life, but he did not now wish to -recall the step he had taken. His better feelings were aroused by the -misery of those dungeons, and by the approbation of his better self, in -the contemplation of the deliverance he had wrought.</p> - -<p>While he thus pondered a soft hand touched his; it was that of the boy, -the son of Thorold, who had been chained to the wall by means of the -thumbscrew locked upon his poor thumbs.<a name="FNanchor_27_27" id="FNanchor_27_27"></a><a href="#Footnote_27_27" class="fnanchor">[27]</a></p> - -<p>"Do your thumbs pain you now?" asked Osric.</p> - -<p>"Not so much; but the place where the bar crossed them yet burns—the -pain was maddening."</p> - -<p>"Dip this linen in the stream, and bind it round them; they will soon be -well. Meanwhile you have the satisfaction that your brave endurance has -proved your faithfulness: not many lads had borne as much."</p> - -<p>"I knew it was life or death to my father; how then could I give way to -the accursed Norman?"</p> - -<p>"Pain is sometimes a powerful reasoner. How did they catch you?"</p> - -<p>"I was sent on an errand by my father, and a hunting party saw and -chased me; they questioned me about the outlaws, till they convinced -themselves I was one, and brought me to the castle, where they put on -the thumbscrew, and told me there it should remain till I told them all -the secrets of the band—especially their hiding-places. I moaned with -the pain, but did not utter a word; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> they left me, saying I should -soon confess or go mad; then God sent you."</p> - -<p>"Yes, God had sent him." Osric longed no more for the fleshpots of -Egypt.</p> - -<p>Just as the autumnal dawn was breaking they arrived at the junction of -Tame and Isis, and the Synodune Hills rose above them. They ascended the -former stream, and followed its winding course with some difficulty, as -the willows on the bank interfered with the proper management of the -boat, until they came to the abbey-wharf. They landed; entered the -precincts, bearing those who could neither walk nor limp, and supporting -those who limped, to the hospitium.</p> - -<p>They were in sanctuary.</p> - -<p>In the city of refuge, and safe while they remained there. Whatever -people may think of monasteries now, they thanked God for them then. It -is quite true that in those dreadful days even sanctuary was violated -from time to time, but it was not likely to be so in this instance. -Brian Fitz-Count respected the forms and opinions of the Church, -outwardly at least; although he hated them in his inward heart, -especially when they came between him and his prey.</p> - -<p>The good monks of Dorchester were just emerging from the service of -Lauds, and great was their surprise to see the arrival of this multitude -of impotent folk. However, they enacted their customary part of good -Samaritans at once, under the direction of the infirmarer—Father -Alphege himself—who displayed unwonted sympathy and activity when he -learned that they were refugees from Wallingford dungeons; and promised -that all due care should be taken of the poor sufferers.</p> - -<p>There had been one or two Jews amongst the captives, but they had not -entered the precincts, seeking refuge with a rabbi in the town.</p> - -<p>When they had seen their convoy safe, the outlaws returned to their -haunts in the forest, taking Ulric, son<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> of Thorold, with them, but -leaving poor Herwald in the hands of Father Alphege, secure of his -receiving the very best attention. Poor wretch! his sufferings had been -so great and so prolonged in that accursed den, or rather chest, that -his reason was shaken, his hair prematurely gray, his whole gait and -bearing that of a broken-down old man, trembling at the least thing that -could startle him, anon with piteous cries beseeching to be let out, as -if still in his "crucet-box."</p> - -<p>"Thou art out, my poor brother, never to return," said Alphege. "Surely, -my Herwald, thou knowest me! thou hast ridden by my side in war and -slept beside me in peace many and many a time."</p> - -<p>Herwald listened to the tones of his voice as if some chord were struck, -but shook his head.</p> - -<p>"He will be better anon," said the Father; "rest and good food will do -much."</p> - -<p>While thus engaged the great bell rang for the Chapter Mass, which was -always solemnly sung, being the choral Mass of the day; and the brethren -and such guests as were able entered the hallowed pile. Osric was -amongst them. He had not gone with the outlaws; he had done his duty by -them; he now claimed to be at his father's disposal.</p> - -<p>For the first time in a long period he felt all the old associations of -his childhood revive—all the influences of religion, never really -abjured, kindle again. He could hardly attend to the service. He did not -consciously listen to the music or observe the rites, but he felt it all -in his inmost soul; and as he knelt all the blackness of his sinful -participation in deeds of cruelty and murder—for it was little -else—all the baseness of his ingratitude in allowing, nay, nurturing, -unbelief in his soul, in trying, happily very successfully, <i>not</i> to -believe in God, came upon him.</p> - -<p>He had come to consult his natural father, as he thought, and to offer -himself to his direction as an obedient son: he now rather sought the -priest, and reconciliation as a <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span>prodigal to his Heavenly Father as the -first step necessary, for in those days penitence always found vent in -such confession.</p> - -<p>But both father and priest were united in Alphege; and after the Chapter -Mass he sought the good infirmarer, and craved of his charity to make -his confession.</p> - -<p>Will it be believed? his father did not know him. It was indeed years -since they had met, and it was perhaps difficult to recognise the child -in this young warrior, now come to man's estate—at least to man's -height and stature.</p> - -<p>Alphege marked the tear-bedewed cheek, the choking voice; he knew the -signs of penitence; he hesitated not for a moment.</p> - -<p>"My son, I am not the <i>pænitentiarius</i> who ordinarily receives strangers -to Confession."</p> - -<p>"But I wish to come to thee. Oh, father, I have fought against it, and -almost did Satan conquer in me: refuse me not."</p> - -<p>"Nay, my son; I cannot refuse thee."</p> - -<p>And they entered the church.</p> - -<p>Father Alphege had composed himself in the usual way for the monotonous -recitation of human sin—all too familiar to his ears—but as he heard -he became agitated in himself. The revelation was clear, none could -doubt it: he recognised the penitent.</p> - -<p>"My son," he said at the close, "thy sin has been great, very great. -Thou hast joined in ill-treating men made in the image of God; thou art -stained with blood; thy sin needs a heavy penance."</p> - -<p>"Name it, let it be ever so heavy."</p> - -<p>"Go thou to the Holy Land, take the Cross, and employ thy talents for -war in the cause of the Lord."</p> - -<p>"I could desire nothing better, father."</p> - -<p>"On that condition I absolve thee;" and the customary formula was -pronounced.</p> - -<p>A hard "condition" indeed! a meet penance! Osric might still gratify his -taste for fighting, without sin.</p> - -<p>They left the church—Osric as happy as he could be.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> A great weight was -lifted off his mind. It was only in such an age that a youth, loving -war, might still enjoy his propensity as a religious penance. <i>Similia -similibus curantur</i>, says the old proverb.</p> - -<p>The two walked in the cloisters.</p> - -<p>"My father—for thou knowest thy son now—I am wholly in thy hands. -Hadst thou bidden me, I had joined the outlaws, and fought for my -country. Now thou must direct me."</p> - -<p>"Were there even a <i>chance</i> of successful resistance, my son, I would -bid thee stay and fight the Lord's battle here; but it is hopeless. What -can such desultory warfare do? No, our true hope lies now in the son of -the Empress—the descendant of our old English kings, for such he is by -his mother's side—Henry Plantagenet. He will bridle these robbers, and -destroy their dens of tyranny."</p> - -<p>"But Brian is fighting on that side."</p> - -<p>"And when the victory is gained, as it will be, it will cut short such -license as the Lord of Wallingford now exercises,—destroy these robber -castles, the main of them, put those that remain under proper control, -drive these 'free lances' out of England, and restore the reign of -peace."</p> - -<p>"May I not then assist the coming of that day?"</p> - -<p>"How couldst thou? Thou canst never return to Wallingford, or take part -in the horrible warfare, which, nevertheless, is slowly working out -God's Will. No; go abroad, as thou art now <i>bound</i> to do, and never -return to England until thou canst do so with honour."</p> - -<p>"Thou biddest me go at once?"</p> - -<p>"Without wasting a day."</p> - -<p>"What steps must I take?"</p> - -<p>"Dost thou know a moated grange called Lollingdune, in the parish of -Chelseye?"</p> - -<p>"Well."</p> - -<p>"It is an infirmary for Reading Abbey, and the Abbot is expected -to-morrow; thou must go, furnished with credentials from our Abbot -Alured. The Abbot of <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>Reading is a mitred abbot, and has power to accept -thy vows and make thee a knight of the Cross. I doubt if even Brian -would dare touch thee then; but keep out of his way till that time; go -not by way of Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"That were madness. I will make across country."</p> - -<p>"And now, dear son, come to noon-meat; I hear the refectory bell."</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>To the south-west of the village of Cholsey (Chelseye) the Berkshire -downs sink into the level plain of the valley of the Thames. Here, -therefore, there was that broken ground which always accompanies the -transition from a higher to a lower level, and several spurs of the -higher ranges stretch out into the plain like peninsulas; while in other -places solitary hills, like islands, which indeed they once were, stand -apart from the mainland of hills.</p> - -<p>One of these hill islands was thickly clothed with wood in those days, -as indeed it is now. And to the north-west there lay a "moated grange."</p> - -<p>A deep moat, fed by streams which arose hard by, enclosed half an acre -or less of ground. This had been laid out as a "pleasaunce," and in the -centre was placed a substantial house of stone, of ecclesiastical -design. It was a country residence of the monks of Reading Abbey, where -they sent sick brethren who needed change of air, to breathe the -refreshing breezes which blow off the downs.</p> - -<p>Such a general sense of insecurity, however, was felt all over the -country by clericals and laics alike, that they dug this deep moat, and -every night drew up their drawbridge, leaving the enclosure under the -protection of huge and faithful mastiffs, who had been taught to -reverence a monk's cassock at night, but to distrust all parties wearing -lay attire, whether of mail or otherwise.</p> - -<p>A level plain, between outlying spurs of the downs, lay to the west, -partly grazing land, partly filled with the primeval forest, and boggy -and dangerous in places. Here the cows of the abbey grazed, which -supplied the <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span>convalescents with the milk so necessary in their cases; -but every night each member of the "milky herd" was carefully housed -inside the moat.</p> - -<p>There was great preparation going on at the grange of Lollingdune, so -called from its peculiar position at the foot of the hill. The Abbot of -Reading, as we have elsewhere learned, was expected on the morrow. He -was a mighty potentate; thrice honoured; had a seat in the great council -of the kingdom; wore a mitre; was as great and grand as a bishop, and so -was reverenced by all the lesser fry.</p> - -<p>So the cooks were busy. The fatted calf was slain, several fowls had to -pay the debt of nature, carp were in stew; various wines were -broached—Malmsey, Osey, Sack, and such like; devices in pastry -executed, notably a pigeon-pie, with a superincumbent mitre in -pie-crust; and many kinds of sweets were curiously and wonderfully made.</p> - -<p>At the close of the day sweet tinkling bells announced the approach of -the cavalcade over the ridge of the hill to the eastward; and soon a -dozen portly monks, mounted on sleek mules, with silver bells on their -trappings, for they did not affect the warlike horse, and accompanied -meetly by lay attendants, laden with furniture and provisions for the -Abbot's comfort, approached by the "under-down" road, which led from the -gorge of the Thames at Streatley. The whole community turned out to meet -them, and there was such an assembly of dark robes that the bailiff of -the farm jocosely called it "Rook-Fair."</p> - -<p>"<i>Pax vobiscum fratres omnes, clerici atque laici.</i> I have come to -repose my weary limbs amongst you, but by St. Martin the air of these -downs is fresh, and will make us relish the venison pasty, or other -humble fare we may receive for the sustenance of our flesh. How are all -the invalids?"</p> - -<p>"They be doing well," said Father Hieronymus, the senior of the monks at -Lollingdune; "and say that the sight of their Abbot will be a most -salutary medicament."</p> - -<p>The Abbot smiled; he liked to think himself loved.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span></p><p>"But who is this youth in lay attire?" and he smiled sweetly, for he -liked to see a handsome youth.</p> - -<p>"It is one Osric, who has brought letters commendatory from the Abbot of -Dorchester."</p> - -<p>"Our brother Alured—is he well?"</p> - -<p>"He is well, my lord," replied Osric, as he bent the knee.</p> - -<p>"And what dost thou seek, sweet son? dost wish to become a novice of our -poor house of St. Benedict?"</p> - -<p>"Nay, my good lord, it is in another vocation I wish to serve God."</p> - -<p>"And that,—ah, I guess thou wishest to take the Cross and go to the -Holy Land."</p> - -<p>"I do with all my heart."</p> - -<p>"And this letter assures me that thou art a fitting person, and skilled -in the use of carnal weapons."</p> - -<p>"I trust I am."</p> - -<p>"Then thou shalt share our humble fare this night, and then thou shalt -on the morrow take the vow and receive the Cross from my own hands, -after the Mass which follows Terce."</p> - -<p>Osric bowed in joyful assent. And that night he dined at the monastic -table of Lollingdune Grange. The humble fare was the most sumptuous he -had ever known; for at Wallingford Castle they paid small attention to -the culinary art—quantity, not quality, was their motto; they ate of -meat half raw, thinking it increased their ferocity; and "drank the red -wine through the helmet barred."</p> - -<p>But it was not so here; the weakness of the monastic orders, if it was a -weakness, was good cooking.</p> - -<p>"Why should we waste or spoil the good things God has given us?" they -asked.</p> - -<p>We wish our space permitted us to relate the conversation which had -place at that table. The Abbot of Reading was devoted more or less to -King Stephen, for Maude, in one of her progresses, had spoiled the abbey -and irritated the brethren by exacting heavy tribute. So they told many -stories of the misdeeds of the party of the Empress,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> and many more of -the cruelties of Brian Fitz-Count, whose lordly towers were visible in -the distance.</p> - -<p>Osric sat at table next to the lord Abbot, which was meant for a great -distinction.</p> - -<p>"In what school, my son, hast thou studied the warlike art and the -science of chivalry?" asked the Abbot.</p> - -<p>"In the Castle of Wallingford, my lord."</p> - -<p>"I could have wished thee a better school, but doubtless thou art -leaving them in disgust with their evil deeds of which we hear daily; in -fact, we are told that the townspeople cannot sleep for the shrieks of -the captives in the towers."</p> - -<p>"It is in order to atone for ever having shared in their deeds that I -have left them, and the very penance laid on me is to fight for the -Cross of Christ in atonement for my error."</p> - -<p>"And what will Brian think of it?"</p> - -<p>"I must not let him get hold of me."</p> - -<p>"Then tarry here till I return to Reading, and assuming the palmer's -dress, travel in our train out of his country; he will not dare to -assail us."</p> - -<p>It was wise counsel.</p> - -<p>On the morrow Mass was said in the chapel, which occupied the upper -story of the house, over the dormitories, under a high arched roof, -which was the general arrangement in such country houses of the -monks;<a name="FNanchor_28_28" id="FNanchor_28_28"></a><a href="#Footnote_28_28" class="fnanchor">[28]</a> and at the offertory Osric offered himself to God as a -Crusader, took the vow, and the Abbot bound the red cross on his arm.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_27_27" id="Footnote_27_27"></a><a href="#FNanchor_27_27"><span class="label">[27]</span></a> This cruelly ingenious contrivance of thumbscrew, lock, -and steel chain may be seen at the house of John Knox, at Edinburgh, -amongst other similar curiosities.</p></div> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_28_28" id="Footnote_28_28"></a><a href="#FNanchor_28_28"><span class="label">[28]</span></a> The author has twice seen the remains of such chapels in -the upper stories of farmhouses—once monastic granges.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVI</span> <span class="smaller">SWEET SISTER DEATH<a name="FNanchor_29_29" id="FNanchor_29_29"></a><a href="#Footnote_29_29" class="fnanchor">[29]</a></span></h2> - -<p>The reader may feel quite sure that such a nature as Evroult's was not -easily conquered by the gentle influences of Christianity; indeed, -humanly speaking, it might never have yielded had not the weapon used -against it been <i>Love</i>.</p> - -<p>One day, as he sat rapt in thought on the sunny bank outside the -hermitage, the hermit and Richard talking quietly at a short distance, -he seemed to receive a sudden inspiration,—he walked up to Meinhold.</p> - -<p>"Father, tell me, do you think you can recover of the leprosy you have -caught from us?"</p> - -<p>"I do not expect to do so."</p> - -<p>"And do you not wish we had never come here?"</p> - -<p>"By no means; God sent you."</p> - -<p>"And you give your life perhaps for us?"</p> - -<p>"The Good Shepherd gave His life for me."</p> - -<p>"Father, I have tried not to listen to you, but I can fight against it -no longer. You are right in all you say, and always have been, -only—only——"</p> - -<p>A pause. The hermit waited in silent joy.</p> - -<p>"Only it was so hard to flesh and blood."</p> - -<p>"And can you yield yourself to His Will now?"</p> - -<p>"I am trying—very hard; I do not even yet know whether I quite can."</p> - -<p>"He will help you, dear boy; He knows how hard it is for us weak mortals -to overcome self."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p><p>"I knew if I had kept well I should have grown up violent, wicked, and -cruel, and no doubt have lost my soul. Do you not think so, father?"</p> - -<p>"Very likely, indeed."</p> - -<p>"And yet I have repined and murmured against Him Who brought me here to -save me."</p> - -<p>"But He will forgive all that, now you truly turn to Him and submit to -His Will."</p> - -<p>"I try to give myself to Him to do as He pleases."</p> - -<p>"And you believe He has done all things well?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"Even the leprosy?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, even that."</p> - -<p>"You are right, my dear son; we must all be purified through suffering, -for what son is he whom the Father chasteneth not? and if we are not -partakers thereof, then are we bastards and not sons. All true children -of God have their Purgatory here or hereafter—far better here. He -suffered more for us."</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>A few days passed away after this conversation, and a rapid change for -the worse took place in poor Evroult's physical condition. The fell -disease, which had already disfigured him beyond recognition, attacked -the brain. His brother and the hermit could not desire his life to be -prolonged in such affliction, and they silently prayed for his release, -grievous although the pang of separation would be to them both—one out -of their little number of three.</p> - -<p>One day he had been delirious since the morning, and at eventide they -stood still watching him. It had been a dark cloudy day, but now at -sunset a broad vivid glory appeared in the west, which was lighted up -with glorious crimson, azure, and gold, beneath the edge of the curtain -of cloud.</p> - -<p>"'At eventide it shall be light,'" quoted Meinhold.</p> - -<p>"See, he revives," said Richard.</p> - -<p>He looked on their faces.</p> - -<p>"Oh brother, oh dear father, I have seen Him; I have<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> heard with the -hearing of the ear, but now mine eye hath seen Him."</p> - -<p>They thought he spake of a vision, but it may have been, probably <i>was</i>, -but a revelation to the inward soul.</p> - -<p>"And now, dear father, give me the Viaticum; I am going, and want my -provision for the way."</p> - -<p>He spoke of the Holy Communion, to which this name was given when -administered to the dying.</p> - -<p>Then followed the Last Anointing, and ere it was over they saw the great -change pass upon him. They saw Death, sometimes called the grim King of -Terrors, all despoiled of his sting; they saw the feeble hand strive to -make the Holy Sign, then fall back; while over his face a mysterious -light played as if the door of Paradise had been left ajar when the -redeemed soul passed in.</p> - -<p>"<i>Beati qui in Domino morinutur</i>," said Meinhold; "his Purgatory was -here. Do not cry, Richard; the happy day will soon come when we shall -rejoin him."</p> - -<p>They laid him out before the altar in their rude chapel, and prepared -for the last funeral rite.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>Meanwhile disfigured forms were stealing through the woods, and finding -a shelter in various dens and caves, or sleeping round fires kindled in -the open or in woodcutters' huts, deserted through fear of them; as yet -they had not found the hermit's cave or entered the Happy Valley.</p> - -<p>On the morrow Meinhold celebrated the Holy Eucharist, and afterwards -performed the burial service with simplest rites; they then committed -the body to the earth, and afterwards wandered together, discoursing -sweetly on the better life, into the forest, where the twilight was</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Like the Truce of God</div> -<div>With earthly pain and woe."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Never were they happier—never so full of joy and <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span>resignation—these -two unfortunates, as the world deemed them; bearing about the visible -sentence of death on themselves, but they had found the secret of a life -Death could not touch.</p> - -<p>And in their walk they came suddenly upon a man, who reposed under the -shadow of a tree; he seemed asleep, but talked and moaned as if in a -feverish dream.</p> - -<p>"Father, he is a leper like us, look."</p> - -<p>"God has sent him, perhaps, in the place of Evroult."</p> - -<p>They woke him.</p> - -<p>"Where am I?"</p> - -<p>"With friends. Canst walk to our home; it is not far?"</p> - -<p>"Angels from Heaven. Yes, I can walk—see."</p> - -<p>But without their assistance he could never have reached the cave.</p> - -<p>They gave him food; he took little, but drank eagerly.</p> - -<p>"How did you come here?"</p> - -<p>He told them of the plague at Byfield, and of the death of the Chaplain.</p> - -<p>"Happy man!" said Meinhold; "he laid down his life for the sheep the -Good Shepherd had committed to his care." And so may we, he thought.</p> - -<p>That night the poor man grew worse; the dark livid hue overspread him. -Our readers know the rest.</p> - -<p class="space-above">Voices might have been heard in the cave the next day—sweet sounds -sometimes as if of hymns of praise.</p> - -<p>The birds and beasts came to the hermit's cave, and marvelled that none -came out to feed them—that no crumbs were thrown to them, no food -brought forth. A bold robin even ventured in, but came out as if -affrighted, and flew right away.</p> - -<p>They sang their sweet songs to each other. No human ear heard them; but -the valley was lovely still.</p> - -<p>Who shall go into that cave and wake the sleepers? Who?</p> - -<p>Then came discordant noises, spoiling nature's sweet<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> harmony—the -baying of hounds, the cries of men sometimes loud and discordant, -sometimes of those who struggled, sometimes of those in pain.</p> - -<p>Louder and louder—the hunt is up—the horse and hound invade the glen.</p> - -<p>A troop of affrighted-looking men hasten down the valley.</p> - -<p>Look, they are lepers.</p> - -<p>They have cause to fear; the deep baying of the mastiffs is deepening, -drawing near.</p> - -<p>They espy the cave—they rush towards it up the slope—in they dash.</p> - -<p>Out again.</p> - -<p>Another group of fugitives follow.</p> - -<p>"The cave! the cave! we may defend the mouth."</p> - -<p>"There are three there already," said the first.</p> - -<p>"<i>Three?</i>"</p> - -<p>"<i>Dead of the Plague.</i>"</p> - -<p>And they would have run away had not the hunters and dogs come upon -them, both ways, up and down the glen.</p> - -<p>They are driven in—some two score in all.</p> - -<p>The leaders of the pursuing party pause.</p> - -<p>"I think," says a dark baron, "I see a way out of our difficulty without -touching a leper."</p> - -<p>"Send the dogs in."</p> - -<p>"In vain; they will not go; they scent something amiss."</p> - -<p>"This cave has but one opening."</p> - -<p>"I have heard that a hermit lived here with two young lepers."</p> - -<p>"Call him."</p> - -<p>"Meinhold! Meinhold!"</p> - -<p>No reply.</p> - -<p>"He is dead long ago, I daresay."</p> - -<p>"If he does not come out it is his own fault."</p> - -<p>"There were two young lepers who dwelt with him."</p> - -<p>"What business had he with lepers?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p><p>"All the world knew it, and he had caught it himself."</p> - -<p>"Then we will delay no longer. God will know His own." And then he gave -the fatal order.</p> - -<p>"Gather brushwood, sticks, reeds, all that will burn, and pile it in the -mouth of the cave."</p> - -<p>They did so.</p> - -<p>"Fire it."</p> - -<p>The dense clouds of smoke arose, and as they hoped in their cruelty, -were sucked inward.</p> - -<p>"There must be a through draught."</p> - -<p>"Can they get out?"</p> - -<p>"No, lord baron."</p> - -<p>"Watch carefully lest there be other outlets. We must stamp this foul -plague out of the land."</p> - -<p>Then they stood and watched.</p> - -<p>The flames crackled and roared; dense volumes of smoke arose, now -arising above the trees, now entering the cave; the birds screamed -overhead; the fierce men looked on with cruel curiosity; but no sound -was heard from within.</p> - -<p>At this moment the galloping of horsemen was heard. "Our brother of -Kenilworth, doubtless."</p> - -<p>But it was not. A rider in dark armour appeared at the head of a hundred -horsemen.</p> - -<p>"What are you doing?" cried a stern voice.</p> - -<p>"Smoking lepers out."</p> - -<p>"Charge them! cut them down! slay all!"</p> - -<p>And the Wallingford men charged the incendiaries as one man. Like a -thunderbolt, slaying, hewing, hacking, chopping, cleaving heads and -limbs from trunks, with all the more deadly facility as their more -numerous antagonists lacked armour, having only come out to slay lepers.</p> - -<p>The Baron of Hanwell Castle was a corpse; so was the knight of Cropredy -Towers; so was the young lord of Southam; others were writhing in mortal -agony, but within a quarter of an hour more, only the dead and dying -disputed the field with the Wallingford men. The rest had fled,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> finding -the truth of the proverb, "There be many that come out to shear and go -back shorn."</p> - -<p>"Drag the branches away! pull out the faggots! extinguish the fire! -scatter it! fight fire as ye have fought men!"</p> - -<p>That was done too. They dispersed the fuel, they scattered the embers; -and hardly was this done than Brian rushed in the cave, through the hot -ashes. But scarce could he stay in a moment, the smoke blinded—choked -him.</p> - -<p>Out again, almost beside himself with rage, fear for his boys, and -vexation.</p> - -<p>In again. Out again.</p> - -<p>So three or four abortive attempts.</p> - -<p>At last the smoke partially dispersed, and he could enter.</p> - -<p>The outer cave was empty.</p> - -<p>But in the next subterranean chamber lay a black corpse—a full-grown -man. Brian knew him not. He crossed this cave and entered the next one, -and by the altar knew it was their rude chapel.</p> - -<p>Before the altar lay two figures; their hands clasped in the attitude of -prayer; bent to the earth; still—motionless.</p> - -<p>Their faces, too, were of the same dark hue.</p> - -<p>The one wore the dress of a hermit, the other was a boy of some sixteen -years.</p> - -<p>Brian recognised his younger son in the latter, rather by instinct and -by knowledge of the circumstances than otherwise.</p> - -<p>"It is my Richard. But where is Evroult?"</p> - -<p>"Here," said a voice,—"read."</p> - -<p>Upon the wall was a rude inscription, scratched thereon by Meinhold, his -last labour of love—</p> - -<p class="center">EVROULT IN PACE.</p> - -<p>Little as he possessed the power of reading, Brian recognised his son's -name, and understood all. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> strong man fell before that altar, and -for the first time in many years recognised the Hand which had stricken -him.</p> - -<p>They dragged him away, as they felt that the atmosphere was dangerous to -them all—as indeed it was.</p> - -<p>"Leave them where they are—better tomb could they not have; only wall -up the entrance."</p> - -<p>And they set to work, and built huge stones into the mouth of the cave—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Leaving them to rest in hope—</div> -<div>Till the Resurrection Day."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And what had become of the other lepers?</p> - -<p>Driven by the smoke, they had wandered into the farthest recesses of the -cave—once forbidden to Evroult by the hermit.</p> - -<p>Whether they perished in the recesses, or whether they found some other -outlet, and emerged to the upper day, we know not. No further -intelligence of the poor unfortunates reached the living, or has been -handed down to posterity.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>And now, do my readers say this is a very melancholy chapter? Do they -pity, above all, the hermit and Richard, struck down by the pestilence -in an act of which Christ would have said, "Inasmuch as ye did it to the -least of these My brethren, ye did it unto Me"?</p> - -<p>The pestilence saved them from the lingering death of leprosy, and even -had they lived to grow old, they had been dust and ashes seven centuries -ago. What does it matter now whether they lived sixteen or sixty years? -The only point is, did they, through God's grace, merit to hear the -blessed words, "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy -of your Lord"?</p> - -<p>And we think they did.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_29_29" id="Footnote_29_29"></a><a href="#FNanchor_29_29"><span class="label">[29]</span></a> So called by St. Francis of Assisi.</p></div> -</div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVII</span> <span class="smaller">FRUSTRATED</span></h2> - -<p>Had the Abbot of Reading seen fit, or rather had the business on which -he came to Lollingdune allowed him to return home on the day in which he -had decorated Osric with the red cross, it had been well for all -parties, save the writer; for the entangled web of circumstance which -arose will give him scope for another chapter or two, he trusts, of some -interest to the reader.</p> - -<p>As it was, Osric was thrown upon his own resources for the rest of that -day, after the Mass was over; and his thoughts not unnaturally turned to -his old home, where the innocent days of his childhood had been spent, -and to his old nurse Judith, sole relict of that hallowed past.</p> - -<p>Could he not bid her farewell? He had an eye, and he could heed; he had -a foot, and he could speed—let Brian's spies watch ever so narrowly.</p> - -<p>Yes, he <i>must</i> see her. Besides, Osric loved adventure: it was to him -the salt of life. He loved the sensation of danger and of risk. So, -although he knew that there must be a keen hunt on foot from Wallingford -Castle after the fugitives, and that the old cottage might be watched, -he determined to risk it all for the purpose of saying good-bye to his -dear old nurse.</p> - -<p>So, without confiding his purpose to any one, he started on foot. He -passed the old church of Aston Upthorpe, where his grandfather lay -buried, breathing a prayer for the old man, as also a thanksgiving for -the teaching which had at last borne fruit, for he felt that he was -reconciled<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> to God and man, now that he had taken the Holy Vow, and -abandoned his godless life at Wallingford Castle. Then passing between -the outlying fort of Blewburton and the downs, he entered the maze of -forest.</p> - -<p>But as he approached the spot, he took every precaution. He scanned each -avenue of approach from Wallingford; he looked warily into each glade; -anon, he paused and listened, but all was still, save the usual sounds -of the forest, never buried in absolute silence.</p> - -<p>At length he crossed the stream and stood before the door of the hut. He -paused one moment; then he heard the well-known voice crooning a snatch -of an old ballad; he hesitated no longer.</p> - -<p>"Judith!"</p> - -<p>"My darling," said the fond old nurse, "thou hast come again to see me. -Tell me, is it all right? Hast thou found thy father?"</p> - -<p>"I have."</p> - -<p>"Where? Tell me?"</p> - -<p>"At Dorchester Abbey of course."</p> - -<p>Judith sighed.</p> - -<p>"And what did he say to thee?"</p> - -<p>"Bade me go on the Crusades. And so I have taken the vow, and to-morrow -I leave these parts perhaps, for ever."</p> - -<p>"Alas! it is too bad. Why has he not told thee the whole truth? Woe is -me! the light of mine eyes is taken from me. I shall never see thee -again."</p> - -<p>"That is in God's hands."</p> - -<p>"How good thou hast grown, my boy! Thou didst not talk like this when -thou camest home from the castle."</p> - -<p>"Well, perhaps I have learnt better;" and he sighed, for there was a -reproach, as if the old dame had said, "Is Saul also amongst the -prophets?"</p> - -<p>"But, my boy," she continued, "is this all? Did not Wulfnoth—I mean -Father Alphege—tell thee more than this?"</p> - -<p>"What more could he tell me?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p><p>She rocked herself to and fro.</p> - -<p>"I <i>must</i> tell him; but oh, my vow——"</p> - -<p>"Osric, my child, my bonnie boy, thou dost not even yet know all, and I -am bound <i>not</i> to tell thee. But I was here when thou wast brought home -by Wulfnoth, a baby-boy; and—and I know what I found out—I saw—God -help me: but I swore by the Black Cross of Abingdon I would not tell."</p> - -<p>"Judith, what can you mean?"</p> - -<p>"If you only knew, perhaps you would not go on this crusade."</p> - -<p>"Whither then? I <i>must</i> go."</p> - -<p>"To Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"But <i>that</i> I can never do. I have broken with them and their den of -darkness for ever."</p> - -<p>"Nay, nay; it may be all thine own one day, and thou mayst let light -into it."</p> - -<p>"What can you mean? You distract me."</p> - -<p>"I cannot say. Ah!—a good thought. You may look—I didn't say I -wouldn't show. See, Osric, I will show thee what things were on thy -baby-person when thou wast brought home. Here—look."</p> - -<p>She rummaged in her old chest and brought forth—a ring with a seal, a -few articles of baby attire, a little red shoe, a small frock, and a -lock of maiden's hair.</p> - -<p>"Look at the ring."</p> - -<p>It bore a crest upon a stone of opal.</p> - -<p><i>The crest was the crest of Brian Fitz-Count.</i></p> - -<p>"Well, what does this mean?" said Osric. "How came this ring on my -baby-self?"</p> - -<p>"Dost thou not see? Blind! blind! blind!"</p> - -<p>"And deaf too—deaf! deaf! deaf!" said a voice. "Dost thou not hear the -tread of horses, the bay of the hound, the clamour of men who seek thee -for no good?"</p> - -<p>It was young Ulric who stood in the doorway.</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, nurse; they are after me; I must go."</p> - -<p>"What hast thou done?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span></p><p>"Let all their captives loose. Farewell, dear nurse;" and he embraced -her.</p> - -<p>"Haste, Osric, haste," said the youthful outlaw, "or thou wilt be -taken."</p> - -<p>They dashed from the hut.</p> - -<p>"This way," said Ulric.</p> - -<p>And they crossed the stream in the opposite direction to the advancing -sounds.</p> - -<p>"I lay hid in the forest and heard them say they would seek thee in -thine old home, as they passed my lurking-place."</p> - -<p>"Now, away."</p> - -<p>"But they may hurt Judith. Nay, Brian has not yet returned, <i>cannot</i> yet -have come back, and without his orders they would not dare. He forbade -them once before even to <i>touch</i> the cottage."</p> - -<p>They pressed onward through the woods.</p> - -<p>"Whither do we go?" said Osric, who had allowed his young preserver to -lead.</p> - -<p>"To our haunt in the swamp."</p> - -<p>"You have saved me, Ulric."</p> - -<p>"Then it has been measure for measure, for didst thou not save me when -in direful dumps? Wilt thou not tarry with us, and be a merry man of the -greenwood?"</p> - -<p>"Nay, I am pledged to the Crusades."</p> - -<p>Ulric was about to reply, when he stopped to listen.</p> - -<p>"There is the bay of that hound again: it is one of a breed they have -trained to hunt men."</p> - -<p>"I know him—it is old Pluto; I have often fed him: he would not hurt -me."</p> - -<p>"But he would <i>discover</i> thee, nevertheless, and <i>I</i> should not be safe -from his fangs."</p> - -<p>"Well, we are as swift of foot as they—swifter, I should think. Come, -we must jump this brook."</p> - -<p>Alas! in jumping, Osric's foot slipped from a stone on which he most -unhappily alighted, and he sank on the ground with a momentary thrill of -intense pain, which made him quite faint.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span></p><p>He had sprained his ankle badly.</p> - -<p>Ulric turned pale.</p> - -<p>Osric got up, made several attempts to move onward, but could only limp -painfully forward.</p> - -<p>"Ulric, I should only destroy both thee and me by perseverance in this -course."</p> - -<p>"Never mind about me."</p> - -<p>"But I do. See this umbrageous oak—how thick its branches; it is hollow -too. I know it well. I will hide in the tree, as I have often done when -a boy in mere sport. You run on."</p> - -<p>"I will; and make the trail so wide that they will come after <i>me</i>."</p> - -<p>"But will not this lead them to the haunt?"</p> - -<p>"Water will throw them when I come to the swamps. I can take care."</p> - -<p>"Farewell, then, my Ulric; the Saints have thee in their holy keeping."</p> - -<p>The two embraced as those who might never meet again—but as those who -part in haste—and Ulric plunged into the thicket and disappeared.</p> - -<p>Osric lay hidden in the branches of the hollow tree. There was a -comfortable seat about ten feet from the ground, the feet hidden in the -hollow of the oak, the head and shoulders by the thick foliage. He did -not notice that Ulric had divested himself of an upper garment he wore, -and left it accidentally or otherwise on the ground. All was now still. -The sound of the boy's passage through the thick bushes had ceased. The -scream of the jay, the tap of the woodpecker, the whirr of an occasional -flight of birds alone broke the silence of the forest day.</p> - -<p>Then came a change. The crackling of dry leaves, the low whisper of -hunters, and that sound—that bell-like sound—the bay of the hound, -like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose, pursuing his prey -relentlessly, unerringly, guided by that marvellous instinct of scent, -which to the pursued seemed even diabolical.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span></p><p>At last they broke through the bushes and passed beneath the -tree—seven mounted pursuers.</p> - -<p>"See, here is the trail; it is as plain as it can be," cried Malebouche; -for it was he, summoned in the emergency from Shirburne, the Baron not -having yet returned—six men in company.</p> - -<p>But the dog hesitated. They had given him a piece of Osric's raiment to -smell before starting, and he pointed at the tree.</p> - -<p>Luckily the men did not see it; for they saw on the ground the tunic -Ulric had thrown off to run, with the unselfish intention that that -should take place which now happened, confident he could throw off the -hound.</p> - -<p>The men thrust it to the dog's nose, thinking it Osric's,—they knew not -there were <i>two</i>—and old Pluto growled, and took the new scent with far -keener avidity than before, for now he was bidden to chase one he might -tear. Before it was a friend, the scent of whose raiment he knew full -well. They were off again.</p> - -<p>All was silence once more around the hollow tree for a brief space, and -Osric was just about to depart and try to limp to Lollingdune, when -steps were heard again in the distance, along the brook, where the path -from the outlaws' cave lay.</p> - -<p>Osric peered from his covert: they were passing about a hundred yards -off.</p> - -<p>Oh, horror! they had got Ulric.</p> - -<p>"How had it chanced?"</p> - -<p>Osric never knew whether the dog had overtaken him, or what accident had -happened; all he saw was that they had the lad, and were taking him, as -he judged, to Wallingford, when they halted and sat down on some fallen -trees, about a hundred yards from his concealment. They had wine, flesh, -and bread, and were going to enjoy a mediæval picnic; but first they -tied the boy carefully to a tree, so tightly and cruelly that he must -have suffered much unnecessary pain; but little recked they.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span></p><p>The men ate and drank, the latter copiously. So much the worse for -Ulric—drink sometimes inflames the passions of cruelty and violence.</p> - -<p>"Why should we take him home? our prey is about here somewhere."</p> - -<p>"Why not try a little torture, Sir Squire—a knotted string round the -brain? we will make him tell all he knows, or make the young villain's -eyes start out of his forehead."</p> - -<p>The suggestion pleased Malebouche.</p> - -<p>"Yes," he said, "we may as well settle his business here. I have a -little persuader in my pocket, which I generally carry on these errands; -it often comes useful;" and he produced a small thumbscrew.</p> - -<p>Enough; we will spare the details. They began to carry out their -intention, and soon forced a cry from their victim—although, judging -from his previous constancy, I doubt whether they would have got -more—when they heard a sound—a voice—</p> - -<p>"<span class="smcap">Stop!</span> let the lad go; he shall not be tortured for me. I yield myself -in his place."</p> - -<p>"Osric! Osric!"</p> - -<p>And the men almost leapt for joy.</p> - -<p>"Malebouche, I am he you seek—I am your prisoner; but let the boy go, -and take me to Wallingford."</p> - -<p>"Oh, why hast thou betrayed thyself?" said Ulric.</p> - -<p>"Not so fast, my young lord, for lord thou didst think thyself—thou -bastard, brought up as a falcon. Why should I let him go? I have you -both."</p> - -<p>But the boy had been partially untied to facilitate their late -operations, which necessitated that the hands cruelly bound behind the -back should be released; and while every eye was fixed on Osric, he -shook off the loosened cord which attached him to the tree, and was off -like a bird.</p> - -<p>He had almost escaped—another minute and he had been beyond -arrow-shot—when Malebouche, snatching up a bow, sent a long arrow after -him. Alas! it was aimed with Norman skill, and it pierced through the -back of the unfortunate boy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> who fell dead on the grass, the blood -gushing from mouth and nose.</p> - -<p>Osric uttered a plaintive cry of horror, and would have hurried to his -assistance, but they detained him rudely.</p> - -<p>"Nay, leave him to rot in the woods—if the wolves and wild cats do not -bury him first."</p> - -<p>And they took their course for Wallingford, placing their prisoner -behind a horseman, to whom they bound him, binding also his legs beneath -the belly of the horse.</p> - -<p>After a little while Malebouche turned to Osric—</p> - -<p>"What dost thou expect when our lord returns?"</p> - -<p>"Death. It is not the worst evil."</p> - -<p>"But what manner of death?"</p> - -<p>"Such as may chance; but thou knowest he will not torture <i>me</i>."</p> - -<p>"He may hang thee."</p> - -<p>"Wait and see. Thou art a murderer thyself, for whom hanging is perhaps -too good. God may have worse things in store for thee. Thou hast -committed murder and sacrilege to-day."</p> - -<p>"Sacrilege?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; thou hast seized a Crusader. Dost not see my red cross?"</p> - -<p>"It is easy to bind a bit of red rag crossways upon one's shoulder. Who -took thy vows?"</p> - -<p>"The Abbot of Reading; he is now at Lollingdune."</p> - -<p>"Ah, ah! Brian Fitz-Count shall settle that little matter; he may not -approve of Crusaders who break open his castle. Take him to Wallingford, -my friends. I shall go back and get that deer we slew just before we -caught the boy; our larder is short."</p> - -<p>So Malebouche rode back into the forest alone.</p> - -<p>Let us follow him.</p> - -<p>It was drawing near nightfall. The light fleecy clouds which floated -above were fast losing the hues of the departing sun, which had tinted -their western edges with crimson; the woods were getting dim and dark; -but <span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span>Malebouche persisted in his course. He had brought down a fine -young buck with his bow, and had intended to send for it, being at that -moment eager in pursuit of his human prey; but now he had leisure, and -might throw it across his horse, and bring it home in triumph.</p> - -<p>Before reaching the place the road became very ill-defined, and speedily -ceased to be a road at all; but Malebouche could still see the broken -branches and trampled ground along which they had pursued their prey -earlier in the day.</p> - -<p>At last he reached the deer, and tying the horse to a branch of a tree, -proceeded to disembowel it ere he placed it across the steed, as was the -fashion; but as he was doing this, the horse made a violent plunge, and -uttered a scream of terror. Malebouche turned—a pair of vivid eyes were -glaring in the darkness.</p> - -<p>It was a wolf, attracted by the scent of the butchery.</p> - -<p>Malebouche rushed to the aid of his horse, but before he could reach the -poor beast it broke through all restraint in its agony of fear that the -wolf might prefer horse-flesh to venison, and tearing away the branch -and all, galloped for dear life away, away, towards distant Wallingford, -the wolf after it; for when man or horse runs, the savage beast, whether -dog or wolf, seems bound to follow.</p> - -<p>So Malebouche was left alone with his deer in the worst possible humour.</p> - -<p>It was useless now to think of carrying the whole carcass home; so he -cut off the haunch only, and throwing it over his shoulder, started.</p> - -<p>A storm came drifting up and obscured the rising moon—the woods grew -very dark.</p> - -<p>Onward he tramped—wearily, wearily, tramp! tramp! splash! splash!</p> - -<p>He had got into a bog.</p> - -<p>How to get out of it was the question. He had heard there was a quagmire -somewhere about this part of the forest, of bottomless depth, men said.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p><p>So he strove to get back to firm ground, but in the darkness went -wrong; and the farther he went the deeper he sank.</p> - -<p>Up to the knees.</p> - -<p>Now he became seriously alarmed, and abandoned his venison.</p> - -<p>Up to the middle.</p> - -<p>"Help! help!" he cried.</p> - -<p>Was there none to hear?</p> - -<p>Yes. At this moment the clouds parted, and the moon shone forth through -a gap in their canopy—a full moon, bright and clear.</p> - -<p>Before him walked a boy, about fifty yards ahead.</p> - -<p>"Boy! boy! stop! help me!"</p> - -<p>The boy did not turn, but walked on, seemingly on firm ground.</p> - -<p>But Malebouche was intensely relieved.</p> - -<p>"Where he can walk I can follow;" and he exerted all his strength to -overtake the boy, but he sank deeper and deeper.</p> - -<p>The boy seemed to linger, as if he heard the cry, and beckoned to -Malebouche to come to him.</p> - -<p>The squire strove to do so, when all at once he found no footing, and -sank slowly.</p> - -<p>He was in the fatal quagmire of which he had heard.</p> - -<p>Slowly, slowly, up to the middle—up to the neck.</p> - -<p>"Boy, help! help! for Heaven's sake!"</p> - -<p>The boy stood, as it seemed, yet on firm ground. And now he threw aside -the hood that had hitherto concealed his features, and looked Malebouche -in the face.</p> - -<p><i>It was the face of the murdered Ulric</i> upon which Malebouche gazed! and -the whole figure vanished into empty air as he looked.</p> - -<p>One last despairing scream—then a sound of choking—then the head -disappeared beneath the mud—then a bubble or two of air breaking the -surface of the bog—then all was still. And the mud kept its secret for ever.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXVIII</span> <span class="smaller">FATHER AND SON</span></h2> - -<p>Meanwhile Osric was brought back as a prisoner to the grim stronghold -where for years his position had been that of the chartered favourite of -the mighty Baron who was the lord thereof.</p> - -<p>When the news had spread that he was at the gates, all the inmates of -the castle—from the grim troopers to the beardless pages—crowded to -see him enter, and perhaps to exult over the fallen favourite; for it is -not credible that the extraordinary partiality Brian had ever shown -Osric should have failed to excite jealousy, although his graceful and -unassuming bearing had done much to mollify the feeling in the hearts of -many.</p> - -<p>And there was nought common or mean in his behaviour; nor, on the other -hand, aught defiant or presumptuous. All was simple and natural.</p> - -<p>"Think you they will put him to the torture?" said a youngster.</p> - -<p>"They dare not till the Baron returns," said his senior.</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>"I doubt it."</p> - -<p>"The rope, then, or the axe?"</p> - -<p>"Perchance the latter."</p> - -<p>"But he is not of gentle blood."</p> - -<p>"Who knows?"</p> - -<p>"If it were you or I?"</p> - -<p>"Hanging would be too good for us."</p> - -<p>In the courtyard the party of captors awaited the orders<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> of the Lady -Maude, now regent in her stern husband's absence. They soon came.</p> - -<p>"Confine him strictly, but treat him well."</p> - -<p>So he was placed in the prison reserved for the captives of gentle -birth, or entitled to special distinction, in the new buildings of -Brian's Close; and Tustain gnashed his teeth, for he longed to have the -torturing of him.</p> - -<p>Unexpected guests arrived at the castle that night—that is, unexpected -by those who were not in the secret of the letters Osric had written and -the Baron had sent out when Osric last played his part of -secretary—Milo, Earl of Hereford, and Sir Alain of St. Maur, some time -page at Wallingford.</p> - -<p>At the banquet the Lady Maude, sorely distressed, confided her griefs to -her guests.</p> - -<p>"We all trusted him. That he should betray us is past bearing."</p> - -<p>"Have you not put him on the rack to learn who bought him?"</p> - -<p>"I could not. It is as if my own son had proved false. We all loved -him."</p> - -<p>"Yet he was not of noble birth, I think."</p> - -<p>"No. Do you not remember the hunt in which you took part when my lord -first found him? Well, the boy, for he was a mere lad of sixteen then, -exercised a wonderful glamour over us all; and, as Alain well knows, he -rose rapidly to be my lord's favourite squire, and would soon have won -his spurs, for he was brave—was Osric."</p> - -<p>"Lady, may I see him? He knows me well; and I trust to learn the -secret," said Alain.</p> - -<p>"Take this ring; it will ope the doors of his cell to thee."</p> - -<p>"And take care <i>thou</i> dost not make use of it to empty Brian's Close," -said Milo ironically.</p> - -<p>Alain laughed, and proceeded on his mission.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>"Osric, my fellow-page and brother, what is the meaning of this? why art -thou here?"</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p><p>He extended his hand. Osric grasped it.</p> - -<p>"Dost thou not know I did a Christlike deed?"</p> - -<p>"Christlike?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Did He not open the prison doors of Hell when He descended -thither, and let the captives out of Limbus? I daresay the Dragon did -not like it."</p> - -<p>"Osric, the subject is too serious for jesting."</p> - -<p>"I am not jesting."</p> - -<p>"But what led thee to break thy faith?"</p> - -<p>"My faith to a higher Master than even the Lord of Wallingford, to whom -I owed so much."</p> - -<p>"The Church never taught me that much: if all we do is so wrong, why are -we not excommunicated? Why, we are allowed our chapel, our chaplain—who -troubles himself little about what goes on—our Masses! and we shall -easily buy ourselves out of Purgatory when all is over."</p> - -<p>Too true, Alain; the Church did grievously neglect her duty at -Wallingford and elsewhere, and passively allow such dreadful dens of -tyranny to exist. But Osric had learnt better.</p> - -<p>"I do not believe you will buy yourselves out. The old priest who served -our little church once quoted a Saint—I think they called him -'Augustine'—who said such things could only profit those whose lives -merited that they should profit them. But you did not come here to -discuss religion."</p> - -<p>"No, indeed. Tell me what changed your mind?"</p> - -<p>"Things that I heard at my grandfather's deathbed, which taught me I had -been aiding and abetting in the Devil's work."</p> - -<p>"Devil's work, Osric! The tiger preys upon the deer, the wolf on the -sheep, the fox on the hen, the cat on the bird,—it is so all through -creation; and we do the same. Did the Devil ordain the laws of nature?"</p> - -<p>"God forbid. But men are brethren."</p> - -<p>"Brethren are we! Do you think I call the vile canaille my -brethren?—not I. The base fluid which circulates in their veins is not -like the generous blood which flows in the veins<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> of the noble and -gallant. I have no more sympathy with such folk than the cat with the -mouse. Her nature, which God gave, teaches her to torture, much as we -torment our captives in Brian's Close or elsewhere; but knights, nobles, -gentlemen,—they are my brethren. We slay each other in generous -emulation,—in the glorious excitement of battle,—but we torture them -not. <i>Noblesse oblige.</i>"</p> - -<p>"I cannot believe in the distinction; and you will find out I am right -some day, and that the blood of your victims, the groans of your -captives, will be visited on your head."</p> - -<p>"Osric, you are one of the conquered race,—is it not so? Sometimes I -doubted it."</p> - -<p>"I am one of your victims; and I would sooner be of the sufferers than -of the tyrants."</p> - -<p>"I can say no more; something has spoilt a noble nature. Do you not -dread Brian's return?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"Why not? I should in your place. He loved you."</p> - -<p>"I have a secret to tell him which, methinks, will explain all."</p> - -<p>"Wilt not tell it me?"</p> - -<p>"No; I may not yet."</p> - -<p>And Alain took his departure sorrowfully, none the wiser.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>The sound of trumpets—the beating of drums. The Baron returns. He -enters the proud castle, which he calls his own, with downcast head. The -scene in the woods near Byfield has sobered him.</p> - -<p>One more grievous blow awaits him,—one to wound him in his tenderest -feelings, perhaps the only soft spot in that hard heart. What a mystery -was hidden in his whole relation to Osric! What could have made the -tiger love the fawn? Was it some deep mysterious working of nature?</p> - -<p>Can the reader guess? Probably, or he has read our tale to little -purpose.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p><p>Osric knows it is coming. He braces himself for the interview. He prays -for support and wisdom.</p> - -<p>The door opens—Brian enters.</p> - -<p>He stands still, and gazes upon Osric for full five minutes ere he -speaks.</p> - -<p>"Osric, what means this?"</p> - -<p>"I have but done my duty. Pardon me, my lord, but the truth must be -spoken now."</p> - -<p>"Thy duty! to break thy faith?"</p> - -<p>"To man but not to God."</p> - -<p>"Osric, what causes this change? I trusted thee, I loved thee, as never -I loved youth before. Thou hast robbed me of my confidence in man."</p> - -<p>"My lord, I will tell thee. At my grandfather's dying bed I learnt a -secret I knew not before."</p> - -<p>"And that secret?"</p> - -<p>"I am the son of Wulfnoth of Compton."</p> - -<p>"So thy grandfather told <i>me</i>—<i>I</i> knew it."</p> - -<p>"But I knew not that thou didst slay my kindred—that my mother perished -under thy hands in her burning house—and I alone escaped. Had I known -it, could I have loved and served thee?—<span class="smcap">Never.</span>"</p> - -<p>"And yet repenting of that deed, I have striven to atone for it by my -conduct to thee."</p> - -<p>"Couldst thou <i>hope</i> to do so? nay, I acknowledge thy kindness."</p> - -<p>"And thou wouldst open my castle to the foe and slay me in return?"</p> - -<p>"No; we shed no blood—only delivered the helpless. Thou hadst made me -take part in the slaughter, the torture of mine own helpless countrymen, -whose blood God will surely require at our hands, if we repent not. I -have repented, but I could not harm thee. See, I had taken the Cross, -and was on my way to the Holy Wars, when thy minions seized me and -brought me back."</p> - -<p>"Thou hast taken the Cross?"</p> - -<p>"I have."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span></p><p>"I know not whether thou dost think that I can let thee go: it would -destroy all discipline in my castle. Right and left, all clamour for thy -life. The late-comers from Ardennes swear they will desert if such order -is kept as thy forgiveness would denote. Nay, Osric, thou must die; but -thy death shall be that of a noble, to which by birth thou art not -entitled."</p> - -<p>The choking of the voice, the difficulty of utterance which accompanied -this last speech, showed the deep sorrow with which Brian spoke. Brutus -sacrificing his sons may have shown less emotion. Osric felt it deeply.</p> - -<p>"My lord, do what you think your duty, and behead your former favourite. -I forgive you all you have done, and may think it right yet to do. I die -in peace with you and the world."</p> - -<p>And Osric turned his face to the wall.</p> - -<p>The Baron left the cell, where he found his fortitude deserting him.</p> - -<p>As he appeared on the ramparts he heard all round the muttered words—</p> - -<p>"Death to the traitor! death!"</p> - -<p>At last he spoke out fiercely.</p> - -<p>"Stop your throats, ye hounds, barking and whining for blood. Justice -shall be done. Here, Alain, seek the doomster Coupe-gorge and the -priest; send the priest to your late friend, and tell the doomster to -get his axe ready; tell Osric thyself he dies at sundown."</p> - -<p>A loud shout of exultation.</p> - -<p>Brian gnashed his teeth.</p> - -<p>"Bring forth my steed."</p> - -<p>The steed was brought.</p> - -<p>He turned to a pitying knight who stood by, the deputy-governor in his -absence.</p> - -<p>"If I return not, delay not the execution after sunset. Let it be on the -castle green."</p> - -<p>A choking sensation—he put his hand to his mouth; when he withdrew it, -it was tinged with blood.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span></p><p>He dashed the spurs into his steed; the drawbridges fell before him; he -rode at full gallop along the route by the brook described in our second -chapter. Whither was he bound?</p> - -<p><i>For Cwichelm's Hlawe.</i></p> - -<p>It is a wonder that he was not thrown over and over again; but chance -often protects the reckless while the careful die. He rides through the -forest over loose stones—over protruding roots of trees—still he kept -his seat; he flew like the whirlwind, but he escaped projecting -branches. In an hour he was ascending the slope from Chiltune to the -summit of the hill.</p> - -<p>He reined his panting steed at the foot of the barrow.</p> - -<p>"Hag, come forth!"</p> - -<p>No reply.</p> - -<p>He tied up his steed to a tree and entered her dread abode—the ancient -sepulchre.</p> - -<p>She sat over the open stone coffin with its giant skeleton.</p> - -<p>"Here thou art then, witch!"</p> - -<p>"What does Brian Fitz-Count want of me?"</p> - -<p>"I seek thee as Saul sought the Witch of Endor—in dire trouble. The -boy, old Sexwulf's grandson"—he could not frame his lips to say -Wulfnoth's son—"has proved false to me."</p> - -<p>"Why hast thou not smitten him, and ridden thyself of '<i>so frail an -encumbrance</i>'?"</p> - -<p>"I could not."</p> - -<p>"Did I not tell thee so long syne? ah, ha!"</p> - -<p>"Tell me, thou witch, why does the death of a peasant rend my very -heart? Tell me, didst thou not give me a philter, a potion or something, -when I was here? My heart burns—what is it?"</p> - -<p>"Brian Fitz-Count, there is one who can solve the riddle—seek him."</p> - -<p>"Who is he?"</p> - -<p>"Ride at once to Dorchester Abbey—waste no time<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>—ask to see Father -Alphege, he shall tell thee all. When is the boy to die?"</p> - -<p>"At sundown."</p> - -<p>"Then there is no time to be lost. It is now the ninth hour; thou hast -but three hours. Ride, ride, man! if he die before thy return, thy -heart-strings will crack. Ride, man, ride! if ever thou didst -ride—Dorchester first, Father Alphege, then Wallingford Castle."</p> - -<p>Brian rushed from the cavern—he gave full rein to his horse—he drove -his spurs deep into the sides of the poor beast.</p> - -<p>Upon the north-east horizon stood the two twin clumps of Synodune, about -ten miles off; he fixed his eyes upon them; beyond them lay Dorchester; -he descended the hill at a dangerous pace, and made for those landmarks.</p> - -<p>He rode through Harwell—passed the future site of Didcot Station, where -locomotives now hiss and roar—he left the north Moor-town on the -right—he crossed the valley between the twin hills—he swam the river, -for the water was high at the ford—he passed the gates of the old -cathedral city. Every one trembled as they saw him, and hid from his -presence. He dismounted at the abbey gates.</p> - -<p>The porter hesitated to open.</p> - -<p>"I have come to see Father Alphege—open!"</p> - -<p>"This is not Wallingford Castle," said the daring porter, strong in -monastic immunities.</p> - -<p>Brian remembered where he was, and sobered down.</p> - -<p>"Then I would fain see the Abbot at once: life or death hang upon it."</p> - -<p>"Thou mayst enter the hospitium and wait his pleasure."</p> - -<p>He waited nearly half an hour. They kept him on purpose, to show him -that he was not the great man at Dorchester he was at Wallingford. But -they were unwittingly cruel; they knew not his need.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile the Abbot sought Father Alphege, and told him who sought him.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p><p>"Canst thou bear to see him?"</p> - -<p>"I can; it is the will of Heaven."</p> - -<p>"Then he shall see thee in the church; the sacred house of God will -restrain you both. Enter the confessional; he shall seek thee there."</p> - -<p>Then the Abbot sought Brian.</p> - -<p>"Come with me and I will show thee him thou seekest."</p> - -<p>Brian was faint with exhaustion, but the dire need, the terrible -expectation of some awful secret, held him up. He had had no food that -day, but he recked not.</p> - -<p>The Abbot Alured led him into the church.</p> - -<p>The confessional was a stone cell<a name="FNanchor_30_30" id="FNanchor_30_30"></a><a href="#Footnote_30_30" class="fnanchor">[30]</a> in the thickness of the wall, -entered by the priest from a side chapel. The penitent approached from -the opposite side of the wall from the nave of the church.</p> - -<p>"I am not come to make a confession—yes I am, though, yet not an -ordinary one."</p> - -<p>"Go to that aperture, and through it thou mayst tell your grief, or -whatever thou hast to say, to Father Alphege."</p> - -<p>Brian went to the spot, but he knelt not.</p> - -<p>"Father Alphege, is it thou?" he said.</p> - -<p>"It is I. What does Brian Fitz-Count seek of me? Art thou a penitent?"</p> - -<p>"I know not. A witch sent me to thee."</p> - -<p>"A witch?"</p> - -<p>"Yes—Hertha of Cwichelm's Hlawe."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Listen. I adopted a boy, the son of a man I had slain, partly, I think, -to atone for a crime once committed, wherein I fired his house, and -burnt his kith and kin, save this one boy. I loved him; he won his way -to my heart; he seemed like my own son; and then he <i>betrayed</i> me. And -now he is doomed to death."</p> - -<p>"To die <span class="smaller">WHEN</span>?" almost shrieked the priest.</p> - -<p>"At sundown."</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p><p>"God of Mercy! he must not die. Wouldst thou slay thy son?"</p> - -<p>"He is not my son by blood—I only meant by adoption."</p> - -<p>"Listen, Brian Fitz-Count, to words of solemn truth, although thou wilt -find them hard to believe. He is thine <i>own</i> son—the son of thy -bowels."</p> - -<p>Brian felt as if his head would burst beneath the aching brain. A cold -sweat bedewed him.</p> - -<p>"Prove it," he said.</p> - -<p>"I will. Brian Fitz-Count, I am Wulfnoth of Compton."</p> - -<p>"Thou? I slew thee on the downs in mortal combat."</p> - -<p>"Nay, I yet breathed. The good monks of Dorchester passed by and brought -me <i>here</i>. I took the vows, and here I am. Now listen: thou didst slay -my loved and dearest ones, but I can forgive thee now. Canst thou in -turn forgive me?"</p> - -<p>"Forgive thee what?"</p> - -<p>"In my revenge, I robbed thee of thy son and brought him up as my own."</p> - -<p>"But Sexwulf swore that the lad was his grandson."</p> - -<p>"He believed it. I wilfully deceived him; but the old nurse Judith has -the proofs—a ring with thy crest, a lock of maiden's hair."</p> - -<p>"Good God! they were his mother's, and hung about his little neck when -we lost him. Man, how couldst thou?"</p> - -<p>"Thou didst slay all mine, and I made thee feel <i>like</i> pangs. And when -the boy came to me after his deadly breach with thee, although I had -forgiven thee, I could not tell him the truth, lest I should send him to -be a murderer like unto thee; but I did my best for him. I sent him to -the Holy Wars, and——"</p> - -<p>He discovered that he spake but to the empty air.</p> - -<p>Brian was gone.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>A crowd was on the green sward of the castle, which filled the interior -between the buildings. In the centre rose a scaffold, whereon was the -instrument of death, the block,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> the axe. A priest stood by the side of -the victim, and soothed him with holy rite and prayer. The executioner -leant on his axe.</p> - -<p>From the courtyard—the green of the castle—the sun was no longer -visible; but the watchman on the top of the keep saw him from that giddy -height descending like a ball of fire towards Cwichelm's Hlawe. It was -his to give the signal when the sun sank behind the hill.</p> - -<p>Every window was full—every coigne of vantage to see the sight. Alas! -human nature is ever the same. Witness the precincts of the Old Bailey -on hanging mornings in our grandfathers' days!</p> - -<p>The man on the keep saw the sun actually touch the trees on the summit -of the distant hill, and bathe them in fiery light. Another minute and -all would be over.</p> - -<p>In the intense silence, the galloping of a horse was heard—a horse -strong and powerful. Down went the drawbridges.</p> - -<p>The man on the keep saw, and omitted to give the signal, as the sun -disappeared.</p> - -<p>"Hold! hold!" cried a commanding voice.</p> - -<p>It was Brian on his foaming steed. He looked as none had ever seen him -look before; but joy was on his face.</p> - -<p>He was in time, and no more.</p> - -<p>"Take him to my chamber, priest; executioner, put up thine axe, there -will be no work for it to-day. Men of Wallingford, Osric is my son—my -own son—the son of my bowels. I cannot spare you my son. Thank God, I -am in time."</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>Into that chamber we cannot follow them. The scene is beyond our power -of description. It was Nature which had all the time been speaking in -that stern father's heart, and now she had her way.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>On the following morning a troop left Wallingford Castle for Reading -Abbey. The Baron rode at its head,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> and by his side rode Osric. Through -Moulsford, and Streatley, and Pangbourne—such are their modern -names—they rode; the Thames on their left hand, the downs on their -right. The gorgeous abbey, in the freshness of its early youth, rose -before them. Would we had space to describe its glories! They entered, -and Brian presented Osric to the Abbot.</p> - -<p>"Here, my lord Abbot, is the soldier of the Cross whom thou didst -enroll. He is lame as yet, from an accident, but will soon be ready for -service. Meanwhile he would fain be thy guest."</p> - -<p>The Abbot was astonished.</p> - -<p>"What has chanced, my son? We wondered that thou didst not rejoin us, -and feared thou hadst faltered."</p> - -<p>"He has found a father, who restrained his freedom."</p> - -<p>"A father?"</p> - -<p>"But who now gives his boy to thee. Osric is my son."</p> - -<p>The Abbot was astonished; as well he might be.</p> - -<p>"Go, my Osric, to the hospitium; let me speak to my lord Abbot alone."</p> - -<p>And Brian told his story, not without strong emotion.</p> - -<p>"What wilt thou do now, my Lord of Wallingford?"</p> - -<p>"He shall fulfil his vow, for himself and for me. But, my lord, my sins -have come home to me. What shall I do? Would I could go with him! but my -duties, my plighted faith to my Queen, restrain me. Even to-morrow the -leaders of our cause meet at Wallingford Castle."</p> - -<p>"Into politics we enter not here. But thy sin, if thou hast sinned, God -hath left the means of forgiveness. Repent—confess—thou shall be -loosed from all."</p> - -<p>"I have not been shriven for a long time, but I will be now."</p> - -<p>"Father Osmund is a meet confessor."</p> - -<p>"Nay, the man whom I wronged shall shrive me both as priest and man—so -shall I feel forgiven."</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>They parted—the father and son—and Brian rode to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> Dorchester, and -sought Father Alphege again. Into the solemn secrets of that interview -we may not enter. No empty form was there; priest and penitent mingled -their tears, and ere the formal absolution was pronounced by the priest -they forgave each other as men, and then turned to Him of Whom it is -written—</p> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Yea, like as a father pitieth his own children,</div> -<div>Even so is the Lord merciful unto them that fear Him."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And taught by adversity, Brian feared Him now.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_30_30" id="Footnote_30_30"></a><a href="#FNanchor_30_30"><span class="label">[30]</span></a> The like may be still seen in the great church at -Warwick.</p></div></div> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span></p> - -<h2><span>CHAPTER XXIX</span> <span class="smaller">IN THE HOLY LAND</span></h2> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Last scene of all,</div> -<div>Which ends this strange eventful history."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>Our tale is all but told. Osric reached the Holy Land in safety, more -fortunate than many of his fellows; and there, hearing Brian's -recommendations and acknowledged as his son, joined the order of the -Knights Templars,—that splendid order which was astonishing the world -by its valour and its achievements, whose members were half monks, half -warriors, and wore the surplice over the very coat of mail; having their -chief church in the purified Mosque of Omar, on the site of the Temple -of Jerusalem, and their mission to protect pilgrims and defend the Holy City.</p> - -<p>He was speedily admitted to knighthood, a distinction his valour fully -justified; and we leave him—gratifying both the old and the new man: -the old man in his love of fighting, the new man in his self-conquest—a -far nobler thing after all. It was a combination sanctioned by the -holiest, best men of that age; such as St. Bernard, whose hymns still -occupy a foremost place in our worship.<a name="FNanchor_31_31" id="FNanchor_31_31"></a><a href="#Footnote_31_31" class="fnanchor">[31]</a></p> - -<p>Brian still continued his warlike career, but there was a great change -in his mode of warfare. Wallingford Castle was no longer sullied by -unnecessary cruelties. Coupe-gorge and Tustain had an easy time of it.</p> - -<p>In 1152 Stephen again besieged Wallingford, but the skill and valour of -Brian Fitz-Count forced him to retreat.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> Again, having reduced the -Castle of Newbury, he returned, and strove to reduce the place by -famine, blocking them in on every side; so that they were forced to send -a message to Henry Plantagenet to come to their aid from Normandy. He -embarked in January 1153 with three thousand foot and a hundred and -forty horse. Most of the great nobles of the west joined his standard in -his passage through England, and he was in time to relieve Wallingford, -besieging the besiegers in their Crowmarsh fort. Stephen came in turn to -relieve them with the barons who adhered to his standard, accompanied by -his son, the heir presumptive, Eustace, animated with strong emulation -against Henry. On his approach, Henry made a sudden sally, and took by -storm the fort at the head of the bridge, which Stephen had erected the -year before, and following the cruel customs of the war, caused all the -defenders to be beheaded on the bridge. Then leaving a sufficient force -to bridle Crowmarsh, Henry marched out with great alacrity to offer -Stephen a pitched battle and decide the war. He had not gone far when he -found Stephen encamped on Cholsey Common, and both sides prepared for -battle with eagerness.</p> - -<p>But the Earl of Arundel, assembling all the nobility and principal -leaders, addressed them.</p> - -<p>"It is now fourteen years since the rage of civil war first infected the -kingdom. During that melancholy period what blood has been shed, what -desolation and misery brought on the people! The laws have lost their -force; the Crown its authority; this great and noble nation has been -delivered over as a prey to the basest of foreigners,—the abominable -scum of Flanders, Brabant, and Brittany,—robbers rather than soldiers, -restrained by no laws, Divine or human,—instruments of all tyranny, -cruelty, and violence. At the same time our cruel neighbours the Welsh -and the Scotch, taking advantage of our distress, have ravaged our -borders. And for what good? When Maude was Queen, she alienated all -hearts by her pride and violence, and made them regret Stephen. And when -Stephen returned to power, he made them regret Maude. He discharged not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> -his foreign hirelings; but they have lived ever since at free-quarters, -plundering our houses, burning our cities, preying upon the very bowels -of the land, like vultures upon a dying beast. Now, here are two new -armies of Angevins, Gascons, and what not. If Henry conquer, he must -confiscate our property to repay them, as the Conqueror that of the -English, after Senlac. If Stephen conquer, have we any reason to think -he will reign better than before? Therefore let us make a third -party—that of peace. Let Stephen reign (with proper restraint) for -life, and Henry, as combining the royal descent of both nations, succeed -him."</p> - -<p>The proposal was accepted with avidity, with loud shouts, "So be it: God -wills it."</p> - -<p>Astonishment and rage seized Eustace, thus left out in the cold; but his -father, weary of strife, gave way, and Stephen and Henry met within a -little distance from the two camps, in a meadow near Wallingford, the -river flowing between the two armies—which had been purposely so -disposed to prevent collision—and the conditions of peace were -virtually settled on the river-bank.</p> - -<p>Eustace went off in a great rage with the knights of his own household, -and ravaged the country right and left, showing what an escape England -had in his disappointment. His furious passion, coupled with violent -exertion, brought on a brain fever, of which he died. Alas, poor young -prince! But his death saved thousands of innocent lives, and brought -peace to poor old England. The treaty was finally concluded in November -1153, in the fourteenth year of the war. Stephen died the following -year, and Henry quietly succeeded; who sent the free-lances back to the -continent, and demolished one thousand one hundred and fifteen robbers' -castles.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> -<div>"Peace and no more from out its brazen portals</div> -<div>The blasts of war's great organ shake the skies,</div> -<div>But beautiful as songs of the immortals,</div> -<div>The holy harmonies of peace arise."</div> -</div></div></div> - -<p>And now Brian Fitz-Count could carry out his heart's desire, and follow -Osric to the Crusades. His wife, Maude<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> of Wallingford, had before -retired into Normandy, weary of strife and turmoil, and taken the veil, -with his consent, in a convent connected with the great monastery of -Bec.</p> - -<p>In the chamber overlooking the south terrace, the river, and the glacis, -once the bower of Maude d'Oyley, sat the young King Henry. He was of -ruddy countenance and well favoured, like David of old. His chest was -broad but his stature short, his manners graceful and dignified.</p> - -<p>Before him stood the lord of the castle.</p> - -<p>"And so thou <i>wilt</i> leave us! For the sake of thy long and great -services to our cause, I would fain have retained thee here."</p> - -<p>"My liege, I wish to atone for a life of violence and bloodshed. I must -save my poor soul."</p> - -<p>"Hast thou sinned more than other men?"</p> - -<p>"I know not, only that I repent me of my life of violence: I have been a -man of blood from my youth, and I go to the tomb of Him Who bled for me -that I may lay my sins there."</p> - -<p>"And who shall succeed thee here?"</p> - -<p>"I care not. I have neither kith nor kin save one—a Knight Templar. A -noble soldier, but, by the rules of his stern order, he is pledged to -poverty, chastity, and obedience."</p> - -<p>"I have heard that the Templars abound in those virtues, but they are a -monastic body, and can hold no property independently of their noble -order; and I have no wish to see Wallingford Castle a fief of theirs."</p> - -<p>"I leave it all to thee, my liege, and only ask permission to say -farewell."</p> - -<p>"God be with thee, since go thou must."</p> - -<p>Brian kissed the royal hand and was gone.</p> - -<p>Once he looked back at the keep of Wallingford Castle from the summit of -Nuffield in the Chilterns, on his road to London <i>en route</i> for the sea. -Ah! what a look was that!</p> - -<p>He never saw it again.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span></p><p>And when he had gone one of the first acts of the king was to seize as -an "escheat" the Castle and honour of Wallingford which Brian Fitz-Count -and Maude his wife, having entered the religious life, had ceased to -hold.</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>The sun was setting in the valley between Mount Ebal and Mount -Gerizim—the mountains of blessing and cursing. In the entrance to the -gorge, thirty-four miles from Jerusalem and fifteen south of Samaria, -was the village of El Askar, once called Sychar.</p> - -<p>An ancient well, surmounted by an alcove more than a hundred feet -deep—the gift of Jacob to his son Joseph—was to be seen hard by; and -many pilgrims paused and drank where the Son of God once slaked His -human thirst.</p> - -<p>The rounded mass of Ebal lay to the south-east of the valley, of Gerizim -to the north-west; at the foot of the former lay the village.</p> - -<p>As in that olden time, it yet wanted four months of harvest. The -corn-fields were still green; the foliage of leafy trees afforded -delicious shades, as when He sat weary by that well, old even then.</p> - -<p>Oh what memories of blessing and cursing, of Jacob and Joseph, of Joshua -and Gideon, clung to that sacred spot! But, like stars in the presence -of a sun, their lustre paled at the remembrance that His sacred Feet -trod that hallowed soil.</p> - -<p>In a whitewashed caravansary of El Askar lay a dying penitent,—a -pilgrim returning from Jerusalem, then governed by a Christian king. He -seemed prematurely old,—worn out by the toils of the way and the change -of climate and mode of life. He lacked not worldly wealth, which there, -as elsewhere, commanded attention; yet his feet were blistered and sore, -for he had of choice travelled barefoot to the Holy Sepulchre.</p> - -<p>A military party was passing along the vale, bound from Acre to -Jerusalem, clad in flexible mail from head to foot; armed, for the rules -of their order forbade them ever to lay their arms aside. But over their -armour long<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> monastic mantles of scarlet were worn, with a huge white -cross on the left shoulder. They were of the array of the Knights -Templars. Soldiers, yet monks! of such high renown that scarcely a great -family in Europe but was represented in their ranks. Their diet was -simple, their discipline exact; they shunned no hardship, declined no -combat; they had few ties to life, but were prepared to sacrifice all -for the sake of the holy warfare and the Temple of God. Their homes, -their churches, lacked ornament, and were rigidly simple, as became -their vow of poverty. Never yet had they disgraced their holy calling, -or neglected to bear their white banner into the heart of the foe; so -that the Moslem trembled at the war-cry of the Templars—"God and His -Temple."</p> - -<p>Such were the Templars in their early days.</p> - -<p>The leader of this particular party was a knight in the prime of life, -of noble, prepossessing bearing; who managed his horse as if rider and -steed were one, like the Centaur of old.</p> - -<p>They encamped for the night in the open, hard by the Sacred Well.</p> - -<p>Scarcely were the camp-fires lit, when a villager sought an audience of -the commander, which was at once granted.</p> - -<p>"Noble seigneur," he said, "a Christian pilgrim lies dying at the -caravansary hard by, and craves the consolations of religion. Thou art -both monk and soldier?"</p> - -<p>"I am."</p> - -<p>"And wilt visit the dying man?"</p> - -<p>"At once."</p> - -<p>And only draining a goblet of wine and munching a crust, the leader -followed the guide, retaining his arms, according to rule; first telling -his subordinate in command where he was going.</p> - -<p>On the slopes of the eastern hill stood the caravansary, built in the -form of a hollow square; the courtyard devoted to horses and cattle, -chambers opening all round the inner colonnade, with windows looking -outward upon the country.</p> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span></p><p>There the Templar was taken to a chamber, where, upon a rude pallet, -was stretched the dying man.</p> - -<p>"Thou art ill, my brother; canst thou converse with me?"</p> - -<p>"God has left me that strength."</p> - -<p>"With what tongue dost thou adore the God of our fathers?"</p> - -<p>"English or French. But who art thou?"</p> - -<p>The dying man raised himself up on his elbows.</p> - -<p>"Osric!"</p> - -<p>"My father!"</p> - -<p>It was indeed Brian Fitz-Count who lay dying on that couch. They -embraced fervently.</p> - -<p>"<i>Nunc dimittis servum tuum Domine in pace</i>," he said. "Osric, my son, -is yet alive—I see him: God permits me to see him, to gladden my eyes. -Osric, thou shalt close them; and here shalt thou bury thy father."</p> - -<p>"Tell me, my sire, hast thou long arrived? why have we not met before?"</p> - -<p>"I have been to Jerusalem; I have wept on Calvary; I have prayed at the -Holy Sepulchre; and there I have received the assurance that He has cast -my sins behind my back, and blotted them out, nailing them to His Cross. -I then sought thee, and heard thou wert at Acre, at the commandery of -St. John. I sought thee, but passed thee on the road unwittingly. Then I -retraced my steps; but the malaria, which ever hangs about the ruins of -old cities, has prostrated me. My hours are numbered; but what have I -yet to live for? no, <i>Nunc dimittis, nunc dimittis, Domine; quia oculi -mei viderunt salutare Tuum</i>."</p> - -<p>And he sank back as in ecstasy, holding still the hand of his son, and -covering it with kisses.</p> - -<p>The setting sun cast a flood of glory on the vale beneath, on Jacob's -Well.</p> - -<p>Once more the sick man rose on his bed, and gazed on the sacred spot -where once the Redeemer sat, and talked with the woman of Samaria.</p> - -<p>"He sat there, weary, weary, seeking His sheep; and I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> am one. He has -found me. Oh my God, Thou didst thirst for my soul; let that thirst be -satisfied."</p> - -<p>Then to Osric—</p> - -<p>"Hast thou not a priest in thy troop, my son?"</p> - -<p>"Our chaplain is with us."</p> - -<p>"Let him bring me the Viaticum. I am starting on my last long journey, I -want my provision for the way."</p> - -<p>The priest arrived; the last rites were administered.</p> - -<p>"Like David of old, I have been a man of blood; like him, I have -repented that I have shed innocent blood," said the sick penitent.</p> - -<p>"And like Nathan, I tell thee, my brother," said the priest, "that the -Lord hath put away thy sin."</p> - -<p>"And my faith accepts the blessed assurance."</p> - -<p>"Osric, my son, let me bless thee before I die; thou dost not know, -canst never know on earth, what thou didst for me."</p> - -<p>"God bless thee too, my father. We shall meet before His throne when -time shall be no more."</p> - -<hr class="tiny" /> - -<p>He fell back as if exhausted, and for a long time lay speechless. At -last he raised himself on his elbow and looked steadfastly up.</p> - -<p>"Hark! they are calling the roll-call above."</p> - -<p>He listened intently for a moment, then, as if he had heard his own -name, he answered—</p> - -<p class="center">"ADSUM."</p> - -<p>And Brian Fitz-Count was no more.</p> - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_31_31" id="Footnote_31_31"></a><a href="#FNanchor_31_31"><span class="label">[31]</span></a> As the admirers of Captain Hedley Vicars and other -military Christians sanction the combination even now.</p></div> -</div> - -<p class="center space-above">THE END</p> - -<p class="center space-above"><i>Printed by</i> <span class="smcap">R. & R. Clark</span>, <i>Edinburgh</i>.</p> - -<hr /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a1" id="Page_a1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> - -<div class="box2"> -<p class="bold">A SELECTION</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">FROM THE</p> - -<h2>Recent Publications</h2> - -<p class="bold space-above">OF</p> - -<p class="bold space-above">Messrs. RIVINGTON</p> - -<p class="bold space-above"><i>WATERLOO PLACE, PALL MALL<br />LONDON</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a2" id="Page_a2">[Pg 2]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Woodford's Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sermons.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By James Russell Woodford, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Sometime Lord Bishop of Ely</i>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Vol. I.—OLD TESTAMENT SUBJECTS.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p>The Feast of Tabernacles—Man's Impatience of Things -Supernatural—The Death of Moses—The Power of Christ's Presence in -Restraining Evil—The Co-operation of Divine and Human Forces—The -Sovereignty of God—The Noiseless Building of the House of God—The -Power of Music—The Gentleness of God—The Silence of God—Man's -Yearning for Safety, Satisfied in a Personal God—God's Use of Evil -in Working out His Purposes—The Probation of Man Limited to this -Life—The Arm of the Lord—Noah, Daniel, and Job and the Communion -of Saints—The Church Designed to Embrace every Age and -Character—Light at Eventide.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="center"><i>Vol. II.—NEW TESTAMENT SUBJECTS.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p>A City that is Set on a Hill—The Closed Door—The Peril of Playing -with Spiritual Convictions—Misinterpretation of the Voice of -God—The Resurrection Change—The Birthday of the Church—St. -Peter's Shadow—The First Martyr—The Reign of the Son of Man—The -Condition of the Disembodied Soul Imperfect—The Deposit of the -Faith in Christ's Safe Keeping—Entrance through the Veil of -Christ's Humanity—The Cloud of Witnesses—The Names of Individual -Souls on the Breastplate of Christ—Absolute Obedience to the -Guidance of Christ—The Many Crowns—The Rightful Entrance into the -City of God.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Paget on Belief.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Faculties and Difficulties for Belief and Disbelief</span>.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Francis Paget, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon of Christ Church, Oxford</i>.</p> - -<blockquote><p>Introductory Essay. Part I.—The Virtue of Self-assertion, in the -Life of the Intellect—The Virtue of Self-assertion, in the Life of -the Will—The Social Instinct—The Reasonableness of Life—The Love -of Beauty in Nature—The Love of Beauty in Art—The Love of Beauty -in Character—The Place of the Intellect—The Dignity of -Man—Readiness. Part II.—The Need of Healing—The Miracle of -Repair—The Reality of Grace—The Transformation of Pity—The -Transformation of Hope—The Records of the Past—The Force of -Faith—Discord and Harmony—The Inner Life.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a3" id="Page_a3">[Pg 3]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Armitage's Early Church History.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sketches of Church and State in the First Eight Centuries.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. William Armitage, B.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Vicar of Scotford, Lancaster; late Scholar of Emmanuel College, -Cambridge</i>.</p> - -<blockquote><p>Extension of the Roman Empire into Britain—Early Struggles of the -Church with Jews and Gnostics—Heresies and Persecutions—Christian -Apologists—Christianity established by the State—The Arian -Heresy—Growing Power of Roman Bishops—Gothic Invasions—Growing -Corruptions in the Church—The Miracles of Saints—Northumbrian -Kings—The Easter Controversy—General Councils—Atilla, King of -the Huns—Monastic Institutions—Mahomet—Mahometan -Conquests—Image Worship—Irish Missionaries—Charlemagne.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Ottley on Revealed Truths.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Rational Aspects of some Revealed Truths.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By Edward B. Ottley, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Minister of Quebec Chapel; lately the Principal of Salisbury Diocesan -Theological College</i>.</p> - -<blockquote><p>Introductory—Modern Doubt and Unbelief: its Extent, Origin, and -Causes—The Authority of the Holy Scriptures—The Divinity of -Christ (I.): Witness of the Church, etc.—The Divinity of Christ -(II.): Witness of Hebrew Scriptures—The Divinity of Christ (III.): -Witness of the New Testament—Christianity and Culture.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Life of Bishop Bickersteth.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>With Portrait. 8vo. 12s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Sketch of the Life and Episcopate of the Right Rev. Robert -Bickersteth</span>, D.D., Bishop of Ripon, 1857-1884. With a Preface by -the Lord Bishop of Exeter.</p> - -<p class="bold">By his Son, Montagu Cyril Bickersteth, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Vicar of St. Paul's, Pudsey, Leeds</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a4" id="Page_a4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Liddon's Easter Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Easter in St. Paul's.</span> Sermons bearing chiefly on the Resurrection of our -Lord.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Henry Parry Liddon, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Chancellor and Canon of St. Paul's</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Liddon's Bampton Lectures.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Eleventh Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 5s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Divinity of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ</span>; being the Bampton -Lectures for 1866.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Henry Parry Liddon, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Chancellor and Canon of St. Paul's</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Liddon's Elements of Religion.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Fifth and Cheaper Edition. Small 8vo. 2s. 6d. Or in Paper Cover, 1s. -6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Some Elements of Religion.</span> Lent Lectures.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Henry Parry Liddon, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Chancellor and Canon of St. Paul's</i>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>The Crown 8vo (Fourth) Edition, 5s., may still be had.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Liddon's University Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sermons Preached before the University of Oxford.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By Henry Parry Liddon, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Chancellor and Canon of St. Paul's</i>.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">First Series.</span>—1859-1868.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Second Series.</span>—1868-1882.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a5" id="Page_a5">[Pg 5]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Goulburn's Gospels for Sundays.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 16s.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Thoughts upon the Liturgical Gospels for the Sundays, one for each -Day in the Year.</span> With an Introduction on their origin, history, the -modifications made in them by the Reformers and by the Revisers of -the Prayer Book, the honour always paid to them in the Church, and -the proportions in which they are drawn from the Writings of the -four Evangelists.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="bold">By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Dean of Norwich</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Goulburn's Gospels for Holy Days.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 8s. 6d.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Meditations upon the Liturgical Gospels.</span> For the minor Festivals of -Christ, the two first week-days of the Easter and Whitsun -Festivals, and the Red Letter Saints' Days. To which is prefixed -some account of the origin of Saints' Days, and their Evens or -Vigils; of the pruning of the Calendar of the English Church by the -Reformers; and of the re-introduction of the Black-Letter -Festivals, with separate notices of the Four which were -re-introduced in the Prayer-Book of 1552.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="bold">By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Dean of Norwich</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Goulburn's Holy Week Lectures.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">Holy Week in Norwich Cathedral</span>; being Seven Lectures on the several -Members of the Most Sacred Body of our Lord Jesus Christ. Delivered -at Evensong on each Day of the Holy Week in the Cathedral Church of -the Holy and Undivided Trinity of Norwich.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="bold">By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Dean of Norwich</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a6" id="Page_a6">[Pg 6]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Welldon's Harrow Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sermons Preached to Harrow Boys.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. J. E. C. Welldon, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Head Master of Harrow School.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p>The Future and the Past—Individuality—All Saints' Day—The -Religious Value of Small Duties—The Promise of the Advent—The -Bible—The Meetings with the Angels—The Sins of the Tongue—The -Bearing of the Cross—Worldliness—The Keeping of Sunday—The -Natural Body and the Spiritual Body—Balaam—The Animal World—The -Blessing of Failure—Friendships—Spiritual Insight—The Lord's -Prayer—The Uses of the Holidays.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">The Altar Book.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>With Rubrics in Red. Large Type. Royal 8vo. 10s. 6d.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">The Order of the Administration of the Holy Communion, and the Form -of Solemnization of Matrimony</span>, according to the Use of the Church -of England.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="center"><i>May also be had bound in Morocco.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Knox Little's Hopes of the Passion.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Hopes and Decisions of the Passion of our Most Holy Redeemer.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross, -Burton-on-Trent</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a7" id="Page_a7">[Pg 7]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Woodford's Great Commission.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 5s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Great Commission.</span> Twelve Addresses on the Ordinal.</p> - -<p class="bold">By James Russell Woodford, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Sometime Lord Bishop of Ely</i>.</p> - -<p class="center">Edited, with an Introduction on the Ordinations of his Episcopate,</p> - -<p class="bold">By Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>One of his Examining Chaplains</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Luckock's Bishops in the Tower.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">The Bishops in the Tower.</span> A Record of Stirring Events affecting the -Church and Nonconformists from the Restoration to the Revolution.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="bold">By Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon of Ely, etc.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">The Book of Church Law.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Fourth Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">The Book of Church Law</span>: being an Exposition of the Legal Rights and -Duties of the Parochial Clergy and the Laity of the Church of -England.</p></blockquote> - -<p class="bold">By the late Rev. John Henry Blunt, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="bold">Revised by Sir Walter G. F. Phillimore, Bart., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Barrister-at-Law, and Chancellor of the Diocese of Lincoln</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a8" id="Page_a8">[Pg 8]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Holland's Creed and Character.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Creed and Character.</span> A Volume of Sermons.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. H. S. Holland, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon of St. Paul's</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>The Story of an Apostle's Faith—The Story of a Disciple's Faith—The -Rock; The Secret; The Fellowship; The Witness; The Resources; The Mind; -The Ministry of the Church—The Solidarity of Salvation—The Freedom of -Salvation—The Gift of Grace—The Law of Forgiveness—The Coming of the -Spirit—The Beauty of Holiness—The Energy of Unselfishness—The Fruit -of the Spirit—Thanksgiving—The Activity of Service—Character and -Circumstance.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Holland's Logic and Life.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Logic and Life</span>, with other Sermons.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. H. S. Holland, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon of St. Paul's</i>.</p> - -<blockquote><p>'Some of these sermons are as powerful as any preached in this -generation, and, indeed, full of genius, original thought, and -spiritual veracity. Of the three first, it would be hard to speak -in terms too high.'—<i>Spectator.</i></p> - -<p>'These [two last-named] sermons exhibit at the full the real -greatness of Mr. Holland's power—his originality, his insight, his -range of experience, observation, and sympathies; and, above all, -his never-failing elevation of spiritual feeling and judgment, -speaking in language brilliant, forcible, copious, rising often to -splendour and magnificence.'—<i>Church Quarterly Review.</i></p> - -<p>'The sermons are thoughtful, earnest, and often eloquent and -powerful. They fully bear out the high reputation Mr. Holland has -obtained as a preacher of considerable acceptableness and influence -with hearers of education and culture.'—<i>Guardian.</i></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Holland's Good Friday Addresses.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Small 8vo. 2s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Good Friday</span>: being Addresses on the Seven Last Words, delivered at St. -Paul's Cathedral, on Good Friday 1884.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. H. S. Holland, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon of St. Paul's</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a9" id="Page_a9">[Pg 9]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Crake's Church History.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">History of the Church under the Roman Empire, A.D. 30-476.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. A. D. Crake, B.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Fellow of the Royal Historical Society, Vicar of Cholsey, Berks.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Crake's Chronicles of Æscendune.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Three Vols. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. A. D. Crake, B.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Author of the 'History of the Church under the Roman Empire,' etc., -etc.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Edwy the Fair; or, The First Chronicle of Æscendune.</span> A Tale of the Days -of St. Dunstan.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Alfgar the Dane; or, The Second Chronicle of Æscendune.</span> A Tale of the -Days of Edmund Ironside.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Rival Heirs; being the Third and Last Chronicle of Æscendune.</span></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Crake's House of Walderne.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The House of Walderne</span>: A Tale of the Cloister and the Forest in the Days -of the Barons' Wars.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. A. D. Crake, B.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Fellow of the Royal Historical Society, Author of the 'Chronicles of -Æscendune,' etc.</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a10" id="Page_a10">[Pg 10]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Mozley on the Old Testament.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Third Edition. 8vo. 10s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Ruling Ideas in Early Ages and their Relation to Old Testament -Faith</span>. Lectures delivered to Graduates of the University of Oxford.</p> - -<p class="bold">By J. B. Mozley, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Canon of Christ Church, and Regius Professor of Divinity in the -University of Oxford</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>Abraham—Sacrifice of Isaac—Human Sacrifices—Exterminating -Wars—Visitation of the Sins of Fathers upon Children—Jael—Connection -of Jael's Act with the Morality of her Age—Law of -Retaliation—Retaliation: Law of Goël—The End the Test of a Progressive -Revelation—The Manichæans and the Jewish Fathers.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Mozley's University Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Fifth Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sermons Preached before the University of Oxford and on Various -Occasions.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By J. B. Mozley, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Canon of Christ Church, and Regius Professor of Divinity, Oxford</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>The Roman Council—The Pharisees—Eternal Life—The Reversal of Human -Judgment—War—Nature—The Work of the Spirit on the Natural Man—The -Atonement—Our Duty to Equals—The Peaceful Temper—The Strength of -Wishes—The Unspoken Judgment of Mankind—The True Test of Spiritual -Birth—Ascension Day—Gratitude—The Principle of Emulation—Religion -the First Choice—The Influence of Dogmatic Teaching on Education.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a11" id="Page_a11">[Pg 11]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Mozley's Essays.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Two Vols. 8vo. 24s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Essays, Historical and Theological.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By J. B. Mozley, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Canon of Christ Church, and Regius Professor of Divinity in the -University of Oxford</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Volume I.</span>—Introduction and Memoir of the Author—Lord -Strafford—Archbishop Laud—Carlyle's Cromwell—Luther.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Volume II.</span>—Dr. Arnold—Blanco White—Dr. Pusey's Sermon—The Book of -Job—Maurice's Theological Essays—Indian Conversion—The Argument of -Design—The Principle of Causation considered in opposition to Atheistic -Theories—In Memoriam—The Author's Articles and Works.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Mozley on Miracles.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Seventh Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Eight Lectures on Miracles</span>: being the Bampton Lectures for 1865.</p> - -<p class="bold">By J. B. Mozley, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Canon of Christ Church, and Regius Professor of Divinity in the -University of Oxford</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Mozley's Parochial Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sermons, Parochial and Occasional.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By J. B. Mozley, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Canon of Christ Church, and Regius Professor of Divinity in the -University of Oxford</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>The Right Eye and the Right Hand—Temptation treated as Opportunity—The -Influences of Habit on Devotion—Thought for the Morrow—The Relief of -Utterance—Seeking a Sign—David Numbering the People—The Heroism of -Faith—Proverbs—The Teaching of Events—Growing Worse—Our Lord the -Sacrifice for Sin—The Parable of the Sower—The Religious Enjoyment of -Nature—The Threefold Office of the Holy Spirit—Wisdom and Folly Tested -by Experience—Moses, a Leader—The Unjust Steward—Sowing to the -Spirit—True Religion, a Manifestation—St. Paul's Exaltation of -Labour—Jeremiah's Witness against Idolatry—Isaiah's Estimate of -Worldly Greatness—The Shortness of Life—The Endless State of -Being—The Witness of the Apostles—Life a Probation—Christian -Mysteries, the Common Heritage—Our Lord's Hour—Fear—The Educating -Power of Strong Impressions—The Secret Justice of Temporal -Providence—Jacob as a Prince Prevailing with God.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a12" id="Page_a12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Mozley's Lectures.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>8vo. 10s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Lectures and other Theological Papers.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By J. B. Mozley, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Canon of Christ Church, and Regius Professor of Divinity in the -University of Oxford</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">The Prayer Book in Latin.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>With Rubrics in Red. Small 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Liber Precum Publicarum Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">A Gulielmo Bright, S.T.P.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Ædis Christi apud Oxon. Canonico, Historiæ Ecclesiasticæ, Professore -Regio.</i></p> - -<p class="center">et</p> - -<p class="bold">Petro Goldsmith Medd, A.M.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Collegii Universitatis apud Oxon. Socio Seniore</i>.</p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Latine redditus.</span> Editio Tertia, cum Appendice.</p> - -<p>[In hac Editione continentur Versiones Latinæ—1. Libri Precum -Publicarum Ecclesiæ Anglicanæ; 2. Liturgiæ Primæ Reformatæ; 3. Liturgiæ -Scoticanæ; 4. Liturgiæ Americanæ.]</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Blunt's Household Theology.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Small 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Household Theology</span>: a Handbook of Religious Information respecting -the Holy Bible, the Prayer Book, the Church, the Ministry, Divine -Worship, the Creeds, etc., etc.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. John Henry Blunt, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Editor of the 'Annotated Book of Common Prayer,' etc., etc.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Also a Cheap Edition. 16mo. 1s.</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a13" id="Page_a13">[Pg 13]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Selections from Liddon.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Selections</span> from the Writings of <span class="smcap">H. P. Liddon</span>, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Chancellor and Canon of St. Paul's</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Selections from Keble.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Selections</span> from the Writings of <span class="smcap">John Keble</span>, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Author of 'The Christian Year.'</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Selections from Pusey.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Selections</span> from the Writings of <span class="smcap">Edward Bouverie Pusey</span>, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Regius Professor of Hebrew, and Canon of Christ Church, Oxford</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Selections from Neale.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Selections</span> from the Writings of <span class="smcap">John Mason Neale</span>, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Warden of Sackville College</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a14" id="Page_a14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Corpus Christi.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>With Red Borders. Royal 32mo. 2s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Corpus Christi</span>: A Manual of Devotion for the Blessed Sacrament.</p> - -<p class="bold">With a Preface by the Rev. H. Montagu Villiers,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Vicar of St. Paul's, Wilton Place</i>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Also a Cheap Edition, without the Red Borders, 1s.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Williams on the Catechism.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Plain Sermons on the Catechism.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. Isaac Williams, B.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford; Author of a 'Devotional -Commentary on the Gospel Narrative.'</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Bickersteth's Yesterday, To-day, and For Ever.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>One Shilling Edition. 18mo.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>With Red Borders. 16mo. 2s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Yesterday, To-day, and For Ever</span>: a Poem in Twelve Books.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Edward Henry Bickersteth, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Bishop of Exeter</i>.</p> - -<blockquote><p>'This blank-verse poem, in twelve books, has made its way into the -religious world of England and America without much help from the -critics.'—<i>Times</i>.</p> - -<p>'The most simple, the richest, and the most perfect sacred poem -which recent days have produced.'—<i>Morning Advertiser.</i></p> - -<p>'A poem worth reading, worthy of attentive study; full of noble -thoughts, beautiful diction, and high imagination.'—<i>Standard.</i></p> - -<p>'In these light Miscellany days there is a spiritual refreshment in -the spectacle of a man girding up the loins of his mind to the task -of producing a genuine epic. And it is true poetry. There is a -definiteness, a crispness about it, which in these moist, viewy, -hazy days is no less invigorating than novel.'—<i>Edinburgh Daily -Review.</i></p> - -<p>'Mr. Bickersteth writes like a man who cultivates at once reverence -and earnestness of thought.'—<i>Guardian.</i></p></blockquote> - -<p class="center"><i>The Larger Edition, 5s., may be had.</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a15" id="Page_a15">[Pg 15]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">The Annotated Prayer Book.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>In One Volume. Quarto. £1, 1s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Or Half-bound in Morocco. £1, 11s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Annotated Book of Common Prayer</span>: being an Historical, Ritual, -and Theological Commentary on the Devotional System of the Church -of England.</p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by the Rev. John Henry Blunt, D.D., F.S.A.</p> - -<p>The reception which the Annotated Book of Common Prayer has met with -during an issue of eight editions in sixteen years has led the -publishers to believe that a new edition, carefully revised and -enlarged, in accordance with our advanced knowledge, would be -acceptable. The present edition has therefore been prepared with, among -others, the following improvements:—</p> - -<blockquote><p>1. A thoroughly trustworthy text of the whole Prayer Book, such as -has not hitherto been accessible.</p> - -<p>2. A much enlarged Introduction, embracing in a compact form all -that is now known respecting the history of the Prayer Book.</p> - -<p>3. The Epistles and Gospels, with all other portions of Holy -Scripture, are now printed at length.</p> - -<p>4. The Notes on the Minor Saints' Days have been carefully revised, -and in most cases re-written.</p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">À Kempis' Of the Imitation of Christ.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Large Type Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Of the Imitation of Christ.</span> In Four Books.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Thomas à Kempis.</p> - -<p class="bold">Translated and Edited by the Rev. W. H. Hutchings, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Rector of Kirkby Misperton, Yorkshire</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a16" id="Page_a16">[Pg 16]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Luckock on the Prayer Book.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Studies in the History of the Book of Common Prayer.</span> The Anglican -Reform—The Puritan Innovations—The Elizabethan Reaction—The -Caroline Settlement. With Appendices.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon of Ely, etc.</i></p> - -<blockquote><p>'This able and helpful book—recommending it emphatically to all -educated members of the entire Anglican community.'—<i>Church -Quarterly Review.</i></p> - -<p>'We heartily commend this very interesting and very readable -book.'—<i>Guardian.</i></p> - -<p>'Dr. Luckock's compact and clearly arranged volume is a valuable -contribution to liturgical history, which will prove interesting to -all readers and almost indispensable to the theological student who -has to master the history and <i>rationale</i> of the Book of Common -Prayer.'—<i>Notes and Queries.</i></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Knox Little's Mystery of the Passion.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Third Edition. Crown 8vo 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Mystery of the Passion of our Most Holy Redeemer.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon Residentiary of Worcester and Vicar of Hoar Cross</i>.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">The Treasury of Devotion.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Fifteenth Edition. 18mo, 2s. 6d.; Cloth limp, 2s.; or bound with the -Book of Common Prayer, 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Treasury of Devotion</span>: a Manual of Prayers for General and Daily Use.</p> - -<p class="bold">Compiled by a Priest.</p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by the Rev. T. T. Carter, M.A.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Also an Edition in Large Type. Crown 8vo. 5s.</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a17" id="Page_a17">[Pg 17]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Williams's Female Scripture Characters.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Female Characters of Holy Scripture.</span> A Series of Sermons.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. Isaac Williams, B.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Formerly Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>Eve—Sarah—Lot's Wife—Rebekah—Leah and -Rachel—Miriam—Rahab—Deborah—Ruth—Hannah—The Witch of -Endor—Bathsheba—Rizpah—The Queen of Sheba—The Widow of -Zarephath—Jezebel—The Shunammite—Esther—Elisabeth—Anna—The Woman -of Samaria—Joanna—The Woman with the Issue of Blood—The Woman of -Canaan—Martha—Mary—Salome—The Wife of Pilate—Dorcas—The Blessed -Virgin.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Blunt's Dictionary of Sects.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Imperial 8vo. 36s.; or in half-morocco, 48s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Dictionary of Sects, Heresies, Ecclesiastical Parties, and Schools of -Religious Thought.</span> By Various Writers.</p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by the Rev. John Henry Blunt, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Editor of the 'Dictionary of Theology,' 'Annotated Book of Common -Prayer,' etc., etc.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Body's Life of Temptation.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo. 4s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Life of Temptation.</span> A Course of Lectures delivered in substance -at St. Peter's, Eaton Square; also at All Saints', Margaret Street.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. George Body, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon of Durham</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>The Leading into Temptation—The Rationale of Temptation—Why we are -Tempted—Safety in Temptation—With Jesus in Temptation—The End of -Temptation.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a18" id="Page_a18">[Pg 18]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Knox Little's Manchester Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sermons Preached for the most part in Manchester.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>The Soul instructed by God—The Claim of God upon the Soul—The -Supernatural Powers of the Soul—The Soul in its Inner Life—The Soul in -the World and at the Judgment—The Law of Preparation—The Principle of -Preparation—The Temper of Preparation—The Energy of Preparation—The -Soul's Need and God's Nature—The Martyr of Jesus—The Secret of -Prophetic Power—The Law of Sacrifice—The Comfort of God—The Symbolism -of the Cross—The Beatitude of Mary, the Mother of the Lord.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Knox Little's Christian Life.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Characteristics and Motives of the Christian Life.</span> Ten Sermons -preached in Manchester Cathedral in Lent and Advent 1877.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>Christian Work—Christian Advance—Christian Watching—Christian -Battle—Christian Suffering—Christian Joy—For the Love of Man—For the -sake of Jesus—For the Glory of God—The Claims of Christ.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Knox Little's Witness of the Passion.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Witness of the Passion of our Most Holy Redeemer.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a19" id="Page_a19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Williams's Devotional Commentary.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Eight Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Devotional Commentary on the Gospel Narrative.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. Isaac Williams, B.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Formerly Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford</i>.</p> - -<p>THOUGHTS ON THE STUDY OF THE HOLY GOSPELS.<br /> -A HARMONY OF THE FOUR EVANGELISTS.<br /> -OUR LORD'S NATIVITY.<br /> -OUR LORD'S MINISTRY (<span class="smcap">Second Year</span>).<br /> -OUR LORD'S MINISTRY (<span class="smcap">Third Year</span>).<br /> -THE HOLY WEEK.<br /> -OUR LORD'S PASSION.<br /> -OUR LORD'S RESURRECTION.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Voices of Comfort.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Voices of Comfort.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by the Rev. Thomas Vincent Fosbery, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Sometime Vicar of St. Giles's, Oxford</i>.</p> - -<p>This Volume of prose and poetry, original and selected, aims at -revealing the fountains of hope and joy which underlie the griefs and -sorrows of life. It is so divided as to afford readings for a month. The -keynote of each day is given to the title prefixed to it, such as: 'The -Power of the Cross of Christ, Day 6. Conflicts of the Soul, Day 17. The -Communion of Saints, Day 20. The Comforter, Day 22. The Light of Hope, -Day 25. The Coming of Christ, Day 28.' Each day begins with passages of -Holy Scripture. These are followed by articles in prose, which are -succeeded by one or more short prayers. After these are poems or -passages of poetry, and then very brief extracts in prose or verse close -the section. The book is meant to meet, not merely cases of bereavement -or physical suffering, but 'to minister specially to the hidden troubles -of the heart, as they are silently weaving their dark threads into the -web of the seemingly brightest life.'</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Also a Cheap Edition. Small 8vo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a20" id="Page_a20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">The Star of Childhood.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Fourth Edition. Royal 16mo. 2s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Star of Childhood</span>: a First Book of Prayers and Instruction for -Children.</p> - -<p class="bold">Compiled by a Priest.</p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by the Rev. T. T. Carter, M.A.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>With Illustrations after Fra Angelico.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">The Guide to Heaven.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. 18mo. 1s. 6d.; Cloth limp, 1s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Guide to Heaven</span>: a Book of Prayers for every Want. For the Working -Classes.</p> - -<p class="bold">Compiled by a Priest.</p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by the Rev. T. T. Carter, M.A.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>An Edition in Large Type. Crown 8vo. 1s. 6d.; Cloth limp, 1s.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">H. L. Sidney Lear's For Days and Years.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. 16mo. 2s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">For Days and Years.</span> A Book containing a Text, Short Reading and Hymn for -Every Day in the Church's Year.</p> - -<p class="bold">Selected by H. L. Sidney Lear.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Also a Cheap Edition. 32mo, 1s.; or Cloth gilt, 1s. 6d.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Williams on the Epistles and Gospels.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Sermons on the Epistles and Gospels for the Sundays and Holy Days -throughout the Year.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. Isaac Williams, B.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Author of a 'Devotional Commentary on the Gospel Narrative.'</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a21" id="Page_a21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Moberly's Parochial Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Parochial Sermons</span>, chiefly preached at Brighstone, Isle of Wight.</p> - -<p class="bold">By George Moberly, D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Bishop of Salisbury</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>The Night is far spent, the Day is at hand—Elijah, the Warner of the -Second Advent of the Lord—Christmas—Epiphany—The Rich Man and -Lazarus—The Seventh Day Rest—I will arise and go to my -Father—Confirmation, a Revival—Korah—The Law of Liberty—Buried with -Him in Baptism—The Waiting Church of the Hundred and Twenty—Whitsun -Day. I will not leave you comfortless—Whitsun Day. Walking after the -Spirit—The Barren Fig Tree—Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O -Lord—Feeding the Four Thousand—We are debtors—He that thinketh he -standeth—The Strength of Working Prayer—Elijah's Sacrifice—If thou -hadst known, even thou—Harvest Thanksgiving—Jonadab, the Son of -Rechab—The Transfiguration; Death and Glory—Welcome to Everlasting -Habitations—The Question of the Sadducees.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Moberly's Plain Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Plain Sermons, Preached at Brighstone.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By George Moberly, D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Bishop of Salisbury</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>Except a man be born again—The Lord with the Doctors—The Draw-Net—I -will lay me down in peace—Ye have not so learned Christ—Trinity -Sunday—My Flesh is Meat indeed—The Corn of Wheat dying and -multiplied—The Seed Corn springing to new life—I am the Way, the -Truth, and the Life—The Ruler of the Sea—Stewards of the Mysteries of -God—Ephphatha—The Widow of Nain—Josiah's discovery of the Law—The -Invisible World: Angels—Prayers, especially Daily Prayers—They all -with one consent began to make excuse—Ascension Day—The Comforter—The -Tokens of the Spirit—Elijah's Warning, Fathers and Children—Thou shalt -see them no more for ever—Baskets full of fragments—Harvest—The -Marriage Supper of the Lamb—The Last Judgment.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a22" id="Page_a22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Luckock's Footprints of the Son of Man.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Third Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 12s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Footprints of the Son of Man as traced by Saint Mark</span>: being Eighty -Portions for Private Study, Family Reading, and Instructions in -Church.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon of Ely; Examining Chaplain to the Bishop of Ely; and Principal of -the Theological College</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">With an Introduction by the late Bishop of Ely.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Goulburn's Thoughts on Personal Religion.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Small 8vo. 6s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Thoughts on Personal Religion</span>: being a Treatise on the Christian Life in -its two Chief Elements—Devotion and Practice.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Dean of Norwich</i>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Also a Cheap Edition, 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Presentation Edition, elegantly printed on Toned Paper.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Two Vols. Small 8vo. 10s. 6d.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Goulburn's Pursuit of Holiness.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Seventh Edition. Small 8vo. 5s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Pursuit of Holiness</span>: a Sequel to 'Thoughts on Personal -Religion,' intended to carry the Reader somewhat farther onward in -the Spiritual Life.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Dean of Norwich</i>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Also a Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a23" id="Page_a23">[Pg 23]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Goulburn on the Lord's Supper.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Sixth Edition. Small 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">A Commentary</span>, Expository and Devotional, on the Order of the -Administration of the Lord's Supper, according to the Use of the -Church of England; to which is added an Appendix on Fasting -Communion, Non-communicating Attendance, Auricular Confession, the -Doctrine of Sacrifice, and the Eucharistic Sacrifice.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Dean of Norwich</i>.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Also a Cheap Edition, uniform with 'Thoughts on Personal Religion,' and -'The Pursuit of Holiness.' 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Goulburn's Holy Catholic Church.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Holy Catholic Church</span>: its Divine Ideal, Ministry, and -Institutions. A short Treatise. With a Catechism on each Chapter, -forming a Course of Methodical Instruction on the subject.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Dean of Norwich</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p>What the Church is, and when and how it was founded—Duty of the Church -towards those who hold to the Apostles' Doctrine, in separation from the -Apostles' fellowship—The Unity of the Church and its Disruption—The -Survey of Zion's towers, bulwarks, and palaces—The Institution of the -Ministry, and its relation to the Church—The Holy Eucharist at its -successive Stages—On the Powers of the Church in Council—The Church -presenting, exhibiting, and defending the Truth—The Church guiding into -and illustrating the Truth—On the Prayer Book as a Commentary on the -Bible—Index.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a24" id="Page_a24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Goulburn's Collects of the Day.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Third Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 8s. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Collects of the Day</span>: an Exposition, Critical and Devotional, of -the Collects appointed at the Communion. With Preliminary Essays on -their Structure, Sources, and General Character, and Appendices -containing Expositions of the Discarded Collects of the First -Prayer Book of 1549, and of the Collects of Morning and Evening -Prayer.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Dean of Norwich</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Volume I.</span> <span class="smcap">Book I.</span> <i>Introductory.</i>—On the Excellencies of the -Collects—On the Origin of the word Collect—On the Structure of a -Collect, as illustrated by the Collect in the Burial Service—Of the -Sources of the Collects: Of the Sacramentary of Leo, of the Sacramentary -of Gelasius, of Gregory the Great and his Sacramentary, of the Use of -Sarum, and of S. Osmund its Compiler—On the Collects of Archbishop -Cranmer—Of the Restoration Collects, and of John Cosin, Prince-Bishop -of Durham—Of the Collects, as representing the Genius of the English -Church. <span class="smcap">Book II.</span> Part I.—<i>The Constant Collect.</i> Part II.—<i>Collects -varying with the Ecclesiastical Season</i>—Advent to Whitsunday.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Volume II.</span> <span class="smcap">Book II.</span> <i>contd.</i>—Trinity Sunday to All Saints' Day. <span class="smcap">Book -III.</span>—<i>On the Collects after the Offertory.</i> <span class="smcap">Appendix A.</span>—<i>Collects in -the First Reformed Prayer Book of 1549 which were suppressed in -1552</i>—The Collect for the First Communion on Christmas Day—The Collect -for S. Mary Magdalene's Day (July 22). <span class="smcap">Appendix B.</span>—<i>Exposition of the -Collects of Morning and Evening Prayer</i>—The Second at Morning Prayer, -for Peace—The Third at Morning Prayer, for Grace—The Second at Evening -Prayer, for Peace—The Third at Evening Prayer, for Aid against all -Perils.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Knox Little's Good Friday Addresses.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New Edition. Small 8vo. 2s.; or in Paper Cover, 1s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Three Hours' Agony of Our Blessed Redeemer</span>: being Addresses in -the form of Meditations delivered in S. Alban's Church, Manchester, -on Good Friday 1877.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a25" id="Page_a25">[Pg 25]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Luckock's After Death.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">After Death.</span> An Examination of the Testimony of Primitive Times -respecting the State of the Faithful Dead, and their relationship -to the Living.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Canon of Ely, etc.</i></p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Part I.</span>—The Test of Catholicity—The Value of the Testimony of the -Primitive Fathers—The Intermediate State—Change in the Intermediate -State—Prayers for the Dead: Reasons for Our Lord's Silence on the -Subject—The Testimony of Holy Scripture—The Testimony of the -Catacombs—The Testimony of the Early Fathers—The Testimony of the -Primitive Liturgies—Prayers for the Pardon of Sins of Infirmity, and -the Effacement of Sinful Stains—The Inefficacy of Prayer for those who -died in wilful unrepented Sin.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Part II.</span>—Primitive Testimony to the Intercession of the -Saints—Primitive Testimony to the Invocation of the Saints—The -Trustworthiness of the Patristic Evidence for Invocation tested—The -Primitive Liturgies and the Roman Catacombs—Patristic Opinions on the -Extent of the Knowledge possessed by the Saints—The Testimony of Holy -Scripture upon the same Subject—The Beatific Vision not yet attained by -any of the Saints—Conclusions drawn from the foregoing Testimony.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Supplementary Chapters.</span>—(<i>a.</i>) Is a fuller Recognition of the Practice -of Praying for the Dead desirable or not?—(<i>b.</i>) Is it lawful or -desirable to practise Invocation of Saints in any form or not?—Table of -Fathers, Councils, etc.—Passages of Scripture explained or -quoted—General Index.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">S. Bonaventure's Life of Christ.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Life of Christ.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By S. Bonaventure.</p> - -<p class="bold">Translated and Edited by the Rev. W. H. Hutchings,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Rector of Kirkby Misperton, Yorkshire</i>.</p> - -<blockquote><p>'The whole volume is full of gems and rich veins of thought, and -whether as a companion to the preacher or to those who seek food -for their daily meditations, we can scarcely imagine a more -acceptable book.'—<i>Literary Churchman.</i></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a26" id="Page_a26">[Pg 26]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Newman's Selection from Sermons.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Third Edition. Crown 8vo.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Selection</span>, adapted to the Seasons of the Ecclesiastical Year, from -the 'Parochial and Plain Sermons' of <span class="smcap">John Henry Newman</span>, B.D., -sometime Vicar of S. Mary's, Oxford.</p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by the Rev. W. J. Copeland, B.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Late Rector of Farnham, Essex</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p><i>Advent</i>:—Self-denial the Test of Religious Earnestness—Divine -Calls—The Ventures of Faith—Watching. <i>Christmas Day</i>:—Religious Joy. -<i>New Year's Sunday</i>:—The Lapse of Time. <i>Epiphany</i>:—Remembrance of -Past Mercies—Equanimity—The Immortality of the Soul—Christian -Manhood—Sincerity and Hypocrisy—Christian Sympathy. -<i>Septuagesima</i>:—Present Blessings. <i>Sexagesima</i>:—Endurance, the -Christian's Portion. <i>Quinquagesima</i>:—Love, the One Thing Needful. -<i>Lent</i>:—The Individuality of the Soul—Life the Season of -Repentance—Bodily Suffering—Tears of Christ at the Grave of -Lazarus—Christ's Privations a Meditation for Christians—The Cross of -Christ the Measure of the World. <i>Good Friday</i>:—The Crucifixion. -<i>Easter Day</i>:—Keeping Fast and Festival. <i>Easter-Tide</i>:—Witnesses of -the Resurrection—A Particular Providence as Revealed in the -Gospel—Christ Manifested in Remembrance—The Invisible World—Waiting -for Christ. <i>Ascension</i>:—Warfare the Condition of Victory. <i>Sunday -after Ascension</i>:—Rising with Christ. <i>Whitsunday</i>:—The Weapons of -Saints. <i>Trinity Sunday</i>:—The Mysteriousness of our Present Being. -<i>Sundays after Trinity</i>:—Holiness Necessary for Future Blessedness—The -Religious Use of Excited Feelings—The Self-wise Inquirer—Scripture a -Record of Human Sorrow—The Danger of Riches—Obedience without Love as -instanced in the Character of Balaam—Moral Consequences of Single -Sins—The Greatness and Littleness of Human Life—Moral Effects of -Communion with God—The Thought of God the Stay of the Soul—The Power -of the Will—The Gospel Palaces—Religion a Weariness to the Natural -Man—The World our Enemy—The Praise of Men—Religion Pleasant to the -Religious—Mental Prayer—Curiosity a Temptation to Sin—Miracles no -Remedy for Unbelief—Jeremiah, a Lesson for the Disappointed—The -Shepherd of our Souls—Doing Glory to God in Pursuits of the World.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a27" id="Page_a27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Jennings' Ecclesia Anglicana.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Ecclesia Anglicana.</span> A History of the Church of Christ in England, from -the Earliest to the Present Times.</p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. Arthur Charles Jennings, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Jesus College, Cambridge, sometime Tyrwhitt Scholar, Crosse Scholar, -Hebrew University Prizeman, Fry Scholar of S. John's College, Carus and -Scholefield Prizeman, and Rector of King's Stanley.</i></p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Bickersteth's The Lord's Table.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. 16mo. 1s.; or Cloth extra, 2s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Lord's Table</span>; or, Meditations on the Holy Communion Office in the -Book of Common Prayer.</p> - -<p class="bold">By E. H. Bickersteth, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Bishop of Exeter</i>.</p> - -<blockquote><p>'We must draw our review to an end, without using any more of our -own words, except one parting expression of cordial and sincere -thanks to Mr. Bickersteth for this goodly and profitable "Companion -to the Communion Service."'—<i>Record.</i></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Manuals of Religious Instruction.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New and Revised Editions. Small 8vo. 3s. 6d. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Manuals of Religious Instruction.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by John Pilkington Norris, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Archdeacon of Bristol and Canon Residentiary of Bristol Cathedral</i>.</p> - -<blockquote><p> I. <span class="smcap">The Catechism and Prayer Book.</span><br /> - II. <span class="smcap">The Old Testament.</span><br /> -III. <span class="smcap">The New Testament.</span></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a28" id="Page_a28">[Pg 28]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Aids to the Inner Life.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Five Vols. 32mo, Cloth limp, 6d. each; or Cloth extra, 1s. each.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>These Five Volumes, Cloth extra, may be had in a Box, price 7s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Also an Edition with Red Borders, 2s. each.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Aids to the Inner Life.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by the Rev. W. H. Hutchings, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Rector of Kirkby Misperton, Yorkshire</i>.</p> - -<p>These books form a series of works provided for the use of members of -the English Church. The process of adaptation is not left to the reader, -but has been undertaken with the view of bringing every expression, as -far as possible, into harmony with the Book of Common Prayer and -Anglican Divinity.</p> - -<p>OF THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. In Four Books. By <span class="smcap">Thomas à Kempis</span>.</p> - -<p>THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and Holy Days -throughout the Year.</p> - -<p>INTRODUCTION TO THE DEVOUT LIFE. From the French of <span class="smcap">S. Francis de -Sales</span>, Bishop and Prince of Geneva.</p> - -<p>THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL. From the French of <span class="smcap">Jean Nicolas Grou</span>.</p> - -<p>THE SPIRITUAL COMBAT. Together with the Supplement and the Path of -Paradise. By <span class="smcap">Laurence Scupoli</span>.</p> - -<blockquote><p>'We heartily wish success to this important series, and trust it -may command an extensive sale. We are much struck, not only by the -excellent manner in which the design has been carried out in the -Translations themselves, but also by the way in which Messrs. -Rivington have done their part. The type and size of the volumes -are precisely what will be found most convenient for common use. -The price at which the volumes are produced is marvellously low. It -may be hoped that a large circulation will secure from loss those -who have undertaken this scheme for diffusing far and wide such -valuable means of advancing and deepening, after so high a -standard, the spiritual life.'—<i>Literary Churchman.</i></p></blockquote> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Blunt's Theological Dictionary.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Imperial 8vo. 42s.; or in half-morocco, 52s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Dictionary of Doctrinal and Historical Theology.</span></p> - -<p class="center">By Various Writers.</p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by the Rev. John Henry Blunt, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Editor of the 'Annotated Book of Common Prayer,' etc., etc.</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a29" id="Page_a29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Norris's Rudiments of Theology.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Rudiments of Theology.</span> A First Book for Students.</p> - -<p class="bold">By John Pilkington Norris, D.D.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Archdeacon of Bristol, and Canon Residentiary of Bristol Cathedral</i>.</p> - -<p class="bold">Contents.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Part I.—Fundamental Doctrines</span>:—The Doctrine of God's Existence—The -Doctrine of the Second Person of the Trinity—The Doctrine of the -Atonement—The Doctrine of the Third Person of the Trinity—The Doctrine -of The Church—The Doctrine of the Sacraments.</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Part II.—The Soteriology of the Bible</span>:—The Teaching of the Old -Testament—The Teaching of the Four Gospels—The Teaching of S. -Paul—The Teaching of the Epistle to the Hebrews, of S. Peter and S. -John—Soteriology of the Bible (concluded).</p> - -<p><span class="smcap">Appendix—Illustrations of Part I. from the Early Fathers</span>:—On the -Evidence of God's Existence—On the Divinity of Christ—On the Doctrine -of the Atonement—On the Procession of the Holy Spirit—On The -Church—On the Doctrine of the Eucharist—Greek and Latin Fathers quoted -or referred to in this volume, in their chronological order—Glossarial -Index.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Medd's Bampton Lectures.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>8vo. 16s.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The One Mediator.</span> The Operation of the Son of God in Nature and in -Grace. Eight Lectures delivered before the University of Oxford in -the year 1882, on the Foundation of the late Rev. John Bampton, -M.A., Canon of Salisbury.</p> - -<p class="bold">By Peter Goldsmith Medd, M.A.,</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Rector of North Cerney; Hon. Canon of S. Alban's, and Examining -Chaplain to the Bishop; late Rector of Barnes; Formerly Fellow and Tutor -of University College, Oxford</i>.</p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a30" id="Page_a30">[Pg 30]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">H. L. Sidney Lear's Christian Biographies.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Eight Vols. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Christian Biographies.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By H. L. Sidney Lear.</p> - -<p>MADAME LOUISE DE FRANCE, Daughter of Louis <span class="smcap">XV.</span>, known also as the -Mother Térèse de S. Augustin.</p> - -<p>A DOMINICAN ARTIST: a Sketch of the Life of the Rev. Père Besson, -of the Order of S. Dominic.</p> - -<p>HENRI PERREYVE. By <span class="smcap">A. Gratry</span>. Translated by special permission. -With Portrait.</p> - -<p>S. FRANCIS DE SALES, Bishop and Prince of Geneva.</p> - -<p>THE REVIVAL OF PRIESTLY LIFE IN THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY IN FRANCE. -Charles de Condren—S. Philip Neri and Cardinal de Berulle—S. -Vincent de Paul—Saint Sulpice and Jean Jacques Olier.</p> - -<p>A CHRISTIAN PAINTER OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY: being the Life of -Hippolyte Flandrin.</p> - -<p>BOSSUET AND HIS CONTEMPORARIES.</p> - -<p>FÉNELON, ARCHBISHOP OF CAMBRAI.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">H. L. Sidney Lear's Five Minutes.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Third Edition. 16mo. 3s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Five Minutes.</span> Daily Readings of Poetry.</p> - -<p class="bold">Selected by H. L. Sidney Lear.</p> - -<hr class="full" /> - -<p class="bold">Pusey's Private Prayers.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Second Edition. Royal 32mo. 2s. 6d.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Private Prayers.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">By the Rev. E. B. Pusey, D.D.</p> - -<p class="bold">Edited, with a Preface, by H. P. Liddon, D.D., D.C.L.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>Chancellor and Canon of St. Paul's.</i></p> - -<hr class="dble" /> - -<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_a31" id="Page_a31">[Pg 31]</a></span></p> - -<p class="bold">Half-a-Crown Editions of Devotional Works.</p> - -<p class="center"><i>New and Uniform Editions.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><i>Seven Vols. 16mo. 2s. 6d. each. Sold separately.</i></p> - -<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Half-a-Crown Editions of Devotional Works.</span></p> - -<p class="bold">Edited by H. L. Sidney Lear.</p> - -<p>SPIRITUAL LETTERS TO MEN. By <span class="smcap">Archbishop Fénelon</span>.</p> - -<p>SPIRITUAL LETTERS TO WOMEN. By <span class="smcap">Archbishop Fénelon</span>.</p> - -<p>A SELECTION FROM THE SPIRITUAL LETTERS OF S. FRANCIS DE SALES, -BISHOP AND PRINCE OF GENEVA.</p> - -<p>THE SPIRIT OF S. 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Thus, we do not -necessarily keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper -edition.</p> - -<p>Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search -facility: www.gutenberg.org</p> - -<p>This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, -including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary -Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to -subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.</p> - -</body> -</html> - diff --git a/old/54583-h/images/cover.jpg b/old/54583-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index 6ff982e..0000000 --- a/old/54583-h/images/cover.jpg +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/54583.txt b/old/54583.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2f2f813..0000000 --- a/old/54583.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,13181 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook, Brian Fitz-Count, by A. D. (Augustine David) -Crake - - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - - -Title: Brian Fitz-Count - A Story of Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey - - -Author: A. D. (Augustine David) Crake - - - -Release Date: April 20, 2017 [eBook #54583] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) - - -***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK BRIAN FITZ-COUNT*** - - -E-text prepared by MWS, Martin Pettit, and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made -available by Internet Archive (https://archive.org) - - - -Note: Images of the original pages are available through - Internet Archive. See - https://archive.org/details/brianfitzcountst00crak - - - - - -BRIAN FITZ-COUNT - - - * * * * * * - -By the same Author. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 7s. 6d. - -HISTORY OF THE CHURCH - -UNDER THE ROMAN EMPIRE, - -A.D. 30-476. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 3s. 6d. - -EDWY THE FAIR, - -OR THE - -FIRST CHRONICLE OF AESCENDUNE. - -A TALE OF THE DAYS OF SAINT DUNSTAN. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 3s. 6d. - -ALFGAR THE DANE, - -OR THE SECOND CHRONICLE OF AESCENDUNE. - -A TALE OF THE DAYS OF EDMUND IRONSIDE. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 3s. 6d. - -THE RIVAL HEIRS, - -BEING THE THIRD AND LAST CHRONICLE OF AESCENDUNE. - - -_Crown 8vo._ 3s. 6d. - -THE HOUSE OF WALDERNE. - -A TALE OF THE CLOISTER AND THE FOREST IN THE -DAYS OF THE BARONS' WARS. - - * * * * * * - - -BRIAN FITZ-COUNT - -A Story of Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey - -by - -THE REV. A. D. CRAKE, B.A. - -Vicar of Cholsey, Berks; and Fellow of the Royal Historical Society; -Author of the 'Chronicles Of Aescendune,' etc. etc. - - - 'Heu miserande puer, siqua fata aspera rumpas, - Tu Marcellus eris.' - VIRGIL: _Aeneid_, vi. 882-3. - - - - - - -Rivingtons -Waterloo Place, London -MDCCCLXXXVIII - - - -DEDICATED WITH GREAT RESPECT - -TO - -JOHN KIRBY HEDGES, ESQ., J.P. - -OF WALLINGFORD CASTLE - - - - -PREFACE - - -The author has accomplished a desire of many years in writing a story of -Wallingford Castle and Dorchester Abbey. They are the two chief -historical landmarks of a country familiar to him in his boyhood, and -now again his home. The first was the most important stronghold on the -Thames during the calamitous civil war of King Stephen's days. The -second was founded at the commencement of the twelfth century, and was -built with the stones which came from the Bishop's palace in Dorchester, -abandoned when Remigius in 1092 removed the seat of the Bishopric to -Lincoln. - -The tale is all too true to mediaeval life in its darker features. The -reader has only to turn to the last pages of the _Anglo-Saxon Chronicle_ -to justify the terrible description of the dungeons of the Castle, and -the sufferings inflicted therein. Brian Fitz-Count was a real personage. -The writer has recorded his dark deeds, but has striven to speak gently -of him, especially of his tardy repentance; his faults were those of -most Norman barons. - -The critic may object that the plot of the story, so far as the secret -of Osric's birth is concerned, is too soon revealed--nay, is clear from -the outset. It was the writer's intention, that the fact should be -patent to the attentive reader, although unknown at the time to the -parties most concerned. Many an intricate story is more interesting the -second time of reading than the first, from the fact that the reader, -having the key, can better understand the irony of fate in the tale, and -the hearing of the events upon the situation. - -In painting the religious system of the day, he may be thought by -zealous Protestants too charitable to the Church of our forefathers; for -he has always brought into prominence the evangelical features which, -amidst much superstition, ever existed within her, and which in her -deepest corruption was still _the salt_ which kept society from utter -ruin and degradation. But, as he has said elsewhere, it is a far nobler -thing to seek points of agreement in controversy, and to make the best -of things, than to be gloating over "corruptions" or exaggerating the -faults of our Christian ancestors. At the same time the author must not -be supposed to sympathise with all the opinions and sentiments which, in -consistency with the period, he puts into the mouth of theologians of -the twelfth century. - -There has been no attempt to introduce archaisms in language, save that -the Domesday names of places are sometimes given in place of the modern -ones where it seemed appropriate or interesting to use them. The -speakers spoke either in Anglo-Saxon or Norman-French: the present -diction is simply translation. The original was quite as free from -stiffness, so far as we can judge. - -The roads, the river, the hills, all the details of the scenery have -been familiar to the writer since his youth, and are therefore described -from personal knowledge. The Lazar-House at Byfield yet lingers in -tradition. Driving by the "Pond" one day years ago, the dreary sheet of -water was pointed out as the spot where the lepers once bathed; and the -informant added that to that day the natives shrank from bathing -therein. A strange instance of the long life of oral tradition--which -is, however, paralleled at Bensington, where the author in his youth -found traditions of the battle of the year 777 yet in existence, -although the fight does not find a place, or did not then, in the short -histories read in schools. - -The author dedicates this book, with great respect, to the present owner -of the site and remains of Wallingford Castle, John Kirby Hedges, Esq., -who with great kindness granted him free access to the Castle-grounds at -all times for the purposes of the story; and whose valuable work, _The -History of Wallingford_, has supplied the topographical details and the -special history of the Castle. For the history of Dorchester Abbey, he -is especially indebted to the notes of his lamented friend, the late -vicar of Dorchester. - -A. D. C. - -CHRISTMAS 1887. - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAP. PAGE - I. THE LORD OF THE CASTLE 1 - - II. THE CHASE 8 - - III. WHO STRUCK THE STAG? 16 - - IV. IN THE GREENWOOD 24 - - V. CWICHELM'S HLAWE 32 - - VI. ON THE DOWNS 40 - - VII. DORCHESTER ABBEY 48 - - VIII. THE BARON AND HIS PRISONERS 56 - - IX. THE LEPERS 64 - - X. THE NEW NOVICE 72 - - XI. OSRIC'S FIRST RIDE 79 - - XII. THE HERMITAGE 87 - - XIII. OSRIC AT HOME 95 - - XIV. THE HERMITAGE 104 - - XV. THE ESCAPE FROM OXFORD CASTLE 117 - - XVI. AFTER THE ESCAPE 131 - - XVII. LIFE AT WALLINGFORD CASTLE 141 - - XVIII. BROTHER ALPHEGE 150 - - XIX. IN THE LOWEST DEPTHS 158 - - XX. MEINHOLD AND HIS PUPILS 170 - - XXI. A DEATHBED DISCLOSURE 178 - - XXII. THE OUTLAWS 189 - - XXIII. THE PESTILENCE (AT BYFIELD) 200 - - XXIV. THE OPENING OF THE PRISON HOUSE 206 - - XXV. THE SANCTUARY 216 - - XXVI. SWEET SISTER DEATH 226 - - XXVII. FRUSTRATED 234 - -XXVIII. FATHER AND SON 244 - - XXIX. IN THE HOLY LAND 257 - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THE LORD OF THE CASTLE - - -It was the evening of the 30th of September in the year of grace 1139; -the day had been bright and clear, but the moon, arising, was rapidly -overpowering the waning light of the sun. - -Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of Wallingford Castle by marriage with the Lady -Maude (_Matildis Domina de Walingfort_), the widow of the doughty Baron -Milo Crispin, who died in 1107, without issue--was pacing the ramparts -of his castle, which overlooked the Thames. Stern and stark was this -mediaeval baron, and large were his possessions. He was the son of Count -Alain of Brittany[1]--a nephew of Hamelin de Baladin, of Abergavenny -Castle, from whom he inherited large possessions in Wales: a nephew also -of Brian, lord of a manor in Cornwall, which he also inherited. - - - "Great his houses, lands, and castles, - Written in the Domesday Book." - - -Furthermore, he was an especial favourite with Henry the First, who -commanded the Lady of Wallingford to marry his minion--according to the -law which placed such widows at the disposal of the crown--he was -present at the consecration of the great abbey of Reading, where amongst -the co-signatories we read "_Signum Brientii filii comitis, de -Walingfort_:" the seal of Brian Fitz-Count of Wallingford. - -He walked the ramparts on this last evening of September, and gazed -upon his fair castle, or might have done so had his mind been at rest, -but "black care sat on his back." - -Still we will gaze, unimpeded by that sable rider, although we fear he -is not dead yet. - -The town of Wallingford had been utterly destroyed by the Danes in 1006, -as recorded in our former story of _Alfgar the Dane_. It was soon -afterwards rebuilt, and in the time of Edward the Confessor, was in the -hands of the thane, and shire-reeve (sheriff) Wigod de Wallingford, a -cupbearer of the pious monarch, and one who shared all that saintly -king's Norman proclivities. Hence it is not wonderful that when William -the Conqueror could not cross the Thames at Southwark, owing to the -opposition of the brave men of London town, he led his army along the -southern bank of the great river to Wallingford, where he was assured of -sympathy, and possessed an English partisan. Here Wigod received him in -his hall--a passable structure for those times--which subsequently -formed a part of the castle which the Norman king ordered to be built, -and which became one of the strongest fortresses in the kingdom, and the -key of the midlands. - -The Conqueror was a guest of Wigod for several days, and before he left -he witnessed the marriage of the eldest daughter of his host, the -English maiden Aldith, to a Norman favourite, Robert d'Oyley, whom he -made Lord of Oxford. - -Now the grand-daughter of that Wigod, whom we will not call traitor to -his country--although some might deem him so--in default of male issue, -became the wife of Brian Fitz-Count. The only son of Wigod, who might -have passed on the inheritance to a line of English lords--Tokig of -Wallingford--died in defence of William the Conqueror[2] at the battle -of Archenbrai, waged between the father and his son Robert Courthose. - -To build the new castle,[3] Robert d'Oyley, who succeeded to the -lordship on the death of Wigod, destroyed eight houses, which furnished -space for the enlargement, and material for the builders. We are not -told whether he made compensation--it is doubtful. - -The castle was built within the ancient walls in the north-east quarter -of the town, occupying a space of some twenty or thirty acres, and its -defence on the eastern side was the Thames. - -Within the precincts rose one of those vast mounds thrown up by -Ethelfleda, lady of the Mercians, and daughter of the great Alfred, a -century and a half earlier. It formed the kernel of the new stronghold, -and surmounted by a lofty tower, commanded a wondrous view of the -country around, from a height of some two hundred feet. - -On the north-east lay the long line of the Chilterns; on the south-west, -the Berkshire downs stretching towards Cwichelm's Hlawe, and the White -Horse Hill; between the two lay the gorge of the Thames, and in the -angle the fertile alluvial plain, chiefly filled at that time by a vast -park or chase, or by forest or marsh land. - -The Chilterns were covered with vast beech forests, the Berkshire downs -were more bare. - -There were three bastions to the north and two on the south; within the -inner dyke or moat on the east was the "glacis," which sloped abruptly -towards the river: the main entrance, on the west, was approached by a -series of drawbridges, while beneath the tower a heavy portcullis -defended the gateway. - -Upon the keep stood two sentinels, who from the summit of their lofty -tower scrutinised the roads and open country all day long, until they -were relieved by those who watched by night. Beneath them lay the town -with its moat, and earthen rampart in compass a good mile and more, -joining the river at each extremity. Within the compass were eleven -parishes, "well and sufficiently built," with one parish church in each -of them, well constructed, and with chaplains and clerks daily -officiating, so that people had no lack of spiritual provision. - -Beyond, the roads stretched in all directions: the Lower Icknield Street -ran by woody Ewelme along the base of the downs, towards distant -Stokenchurch and Wycombe; while on the opposite side, it ran across the -wild moor land through Aston and Blewbery to the Berkshire downs, where -it joined the upper way again, and continued its course for Devizes. Our -readers will know this road well by and by. - -Another road led towards the hills, called "Ye Kynge's Standynge," where -it ascended the downs, and joining the upper Icknield Street, stretched -across the slopes of Lowbury Hill, the highest point on the eastern -downs, where the remains of a strong Roman tower formed a conspicuous -object at that date. Another road led directly to the west, and to -distant Ffaringdune, along the southern side of the twin hills of -Synodune. - -Now we will cease from description and take up our story. - - -"Our lord looks ill at ease," said Malebouche, one of the sentinels on -the keep, to Bardulf, his companion. - -"As well he may on this day!" - -"Why on this day?" - -"Dost thou not know that he is childless?" - -"I suppose that is the case every day in the year." - -"Ah, thou art fresh from fair Brittany, so I will tell thee the tale, -only breathe it not where our lord can hear of my words, or I shall make -acquaintance with his dog-whip, if not with gyves and fetters. Well, it -chanced that thirteen years agone he burnt an old manor-house over on -the downs near Compton, inhabited by a family of English churls who -would not pay him tribute; the greater part of the household, unable to -escape, perished in the flames, and amongst them, the mother and eldest -child. In a dire rage and fury the father, who escaped, being absent -from home, plotted revenge. Our lord had a son then, a likely lad of -some three summers, and soon afterwards, on this very day, the child was -out with scanty attendance taking the air, for who, thought they, would -dare to injure the heir of the mighty baron, when some marauders made a -swoop from the woods on the little party, slew them all and carried off -the child--at least the body was never found, while those of the -attendants lay all around, male and female." - -"And did not they make due search?" - -"Thou mayst take thy corporal oath of that. They searched every thicket -and fastness, but neither the child nor any concerned in the outrage -were ever found. They hung two or three poor churls and vagrants on -suspicion, but what good could that do; there was no proof, and the -wretches denied all knowledge." - -"Did not they try the 'question,' the '_peine forte et dure_?'" - -"Indeed they did, but although one poor vagrant died under it, he -revealed nothing, because he had nothing to reveal, I suppose." - -"What ho! warder! dost thou see nought on the roads?" cried a stern, -loud voice which made both start. - -"Nought, my lord." - -"Keep a good look-out; I expect guests." - -And Brian Fitz-Count resumed his walk below--to and fro, communing with -his own moody thoughts. - -An hour had passed away, when the sentinel cried aloud-- - -"A party of men approaches along the lower Ickleton Way from the west." - -"How many in number?" - -"About twenty." - -"Where are they?" - -"They cross the moor and have just left the South Moor Town." - -"Canst thou make out their cognisance?" - -"The light doth not serve." - -"Order a troop of horse: I ride to meet them; let the banquet be -prepared." - -In another quarter of an hour a little party dashed over the lowered -drawbridges and out on the western road; meanwhile the great hall was -lighted, and the cooks hurried on the feast. - -In less than another hour the blast of trumpets announced the return of -the Lord of the Castle with his guest. And Brian Fitz-Count rode proudly -into his stronghold: on his right hand rode a tall knight, whose squires -and attendants followed behind with the Wallingford men. - -"Welcome, Sir Milo of Gloucester, to my castle," exclaimed the Lord of -Wallingford, as he clasped the hand of his visitor beneath the entrance -tower. - -"By'r ladye, a fine stronghold this of yours; that tower on the keep -might rival in height the far-famed tower of Babel." - -"We do not hope to scale Heaven, although, forsooth, if the Masses said -daily in Wallingford are steps in the ladder, it will soon be long -enough." - -And they both laughed grimly in a way which did not infer implicit -belief in the power of the Church. - -"The bath, then the board--prepare the bath for our guest." - -So they led him to the bathroom, for the Normans washed themselves, for -which the natives charged them with effeminacy; and there they brought -towels, and perfumed waters, and other luxuries. After which two pages -conducted the guest to the great hall, which was nearly a hundred feet -in length. The high table stood at the one end upon a platform, and -there the Lord of Wallingford seated himself, while upon his left hand -sat the Lady Maude, a lady of middle age, and upon his right a seat of -state was prepared, to which the pages led his visitor. - -Fully two hundred men banqueted in the hall that night, boards on -trestles were distributed all along the length at right angles to the -high table, with space between for the servers to pass, and troops of -boys and lower menials squatted on the rushes, while the men-at-arms sat -at the board. - -A gallery for the musicians projected above the feasters on one side of -the hall, and there a dozen performers with harps and lutes played -warlike songs, the while the company below ate and drank. The music was -rough but seemed to stir the blood as its melody rose and fell. - -And when at last the banquet was ended, a herald commanded silence, and -Brian Fitz-Count addressed the listening throng: - -"My merry men all, our guest here bringeth us news which may change our -festal attire for helm and hauberk, and convert our ploughshares and -pruning-hooks into swords and lances; but nought more of this to-night, -the morrow we hunt the stag, and when we meet here on to-morrow night I -may have welcome news for all merry men who love war and glory better -than slothful ease." - -A loud burst of applause followed the speech, the purport of which they -fully understood, for the long peace had wearied them, and they were all -eager for the strife as the beasts of prey for rapine, so in song and -wassail they spent the evening, while the Baron and his guest withdrew -to take secret council in an inner chamber. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] Anglo-Saxon Chronicle. - -[2] William's first wound came from the hand from which a wound is most -bitter. Father and son met face to face in the battle; the parricidal -spear of Robert pierced the hand of his father, an arrow at the same -moment struck the horse on which he rode, and the Conqueror lay for a -moment on the earth expecting death at the hands of his own son. A loyal -Englishman sped to the rescue--Tokig, the son of Wigod of Wallingford, -sprang down and offered his horse to the fallen king--at that moment the -shot of a crossbow gave the gallant thane of Berkshire a mortal wound, -and Tokig gave up his life for his sovereign.--_Freeman._ - -[3] Leland writes--giving his own observations in the sixteenth century -(temp. Henry VIII.):--"The castle joineth to the north gate of the town, -and hath three dykes, large and deep and well watered; about each of the -two first dykes, as upon the crests of the ground, runneth an embattled -wall now sore in ruin; all the goodly building with the tower and -dungeon be within the three dykes." The dykes or moats were supplied -with water from the _Moreton_ brook. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -THE CHASE - - "Hail, smiling morn, - That tips the hills with gold." - - -The merry sound of horns blowing the _reveillee_ greeted the sleepers as -they awoke, lazily, and saw the morning dawn shining through their -windows of horn, or stretched skin, or through the chinks of their -shutters in the chambers of Wallingford Castle, and in a very short -space of time the brief toilettes were performed, the hunting garb -donned, and the whole precincts swarmed with life, while the clamour of -dogs or of men filled the air. - -Soon the doughty Baron with his commanding voice stilled the tumult, as -he gave his orders for the day; the _dejeuner_ or breakfast of cold -meats, washed down with ale, mead, or wine, was next despatched, a -hunting Mass was said in "St. Nicholas his Chapel"--that is, a Mass -shorn of its due proportions and reduced within the reasonable compass -of a quarter of an hour--and before the hour of Prime (7 A.M.) the whole -train issued from the gates, Milo, Sheriff of Gloucester,[4] riding by -the side of his host. - -It was a bright, bracing morning that First of October, the air keen but -delicious--one of those days when we hardly regret the summer which has -left us and say we like autumn best; every one felt the pulses of life -beat the more healthily, as the hunting train rode up by the side of the -Moreton brook, towards distant Estune or East-town, as Aston was then -called. - -They were now approaching a densely-wooded district, for all that -portion of the "honour" of Wallingford which lay beneath the downs, was -filled with wood and marsh nourished by many slow and half stagnant -streams, or penetrated by swiftly running brooks which still follow the -same general course through the district in its cultivated state. - -At length they reached a wide open moor covered with gorse or heather; -gay and brilliant looked the train as it passed over the spot. The -hunters generally wore a garb familiar to some of us by pictorial -representations, a green hunting tunic girded by a belt with silver -clasps, a hunting knife in the girdle, a horn swung round the shoulder -dependent from the neck; but beneath this gay attire the great men wore -suits of chain mail, so flexible that it did not impede their movements -nor feel half so uncomfortable as some present suits of corduroy would -feel to a modern dandy. There were archers a few, there were also -spearmen who ran well and kept up with the mounted company at a steady -swinging trot, then there were fine-looking dogs of enormous size, and -of wondrous powers of strength and motion. The very thought of it is -enough to make the modern hunter sigh for the "good old times." - -Onward! onward! we fly, the moor is past, the hunting train turns to the -right and follows the course of the brook towards the park of Blidberia -(or Blewbery), the wood gets thicker and thicker; it is a tangled marsh, -and yet a forest; tall trees rise in endless variety, oaks that might -have borne mistletoes for the Druids; huge beeches with spreading -foliage, beneath which Tityrus might have reclined nor complained of -want of shade; willows rooted in water; decaying trunks of trees, -rotting in sullen pools of stagnant mire; yet, a clear, fresh spring -rushes along by the side of the track. - -And at intervals the outline of the Bearroc hills, the Berkshire downs, -rises above the forest, and solemnly in the distance looms the huge -tree-covered barrow, where Cwichelm, the last King of Wessex, sleeps his -long sleep while his subjugated descendants serve their Norman masters -in the country around his hill-tomb. - -And now a gallant stag is roused--a stag of ten branches. He scents the -dogs as the wind blows from them to him, he shakes the dewdrops from his -flanks, he listens one moment to the clamour of the noisy pack of canine -foes, he shakes his head disdainfully, and rushes on his headlong -course. The dogs bark and bay, the horns ring out, the voices of men and -boys, cheering and shouting as they spur their willing steeds, join the -discord. Hark! hark! Halloa! halloa! Whoop! whoop! and onward they fly. -The timid hares and rabbits rush away or seek their burrows. The hawks -and birds of prey fly wildly overhead in puzzled flight, as the wild -huntsmen rush along. - -But now the natural obstacles retard their flight, and the stag gains -the downs first, and speeds over the upper plains. A mile after him, the -hunt emerges just above the tangled maze of Blewbery. Now all is open -ground, and the stag heads for Cwichelm's Hlawe. - -Swiftly they sweep along; the footmen are left far behind. The wind is -blowing hard, and the shadows of fleecy clouds are cast upon the downs, -but the riders outstrip them, and leave the dark outlines behind them. -The leaves blow from many a fading tree, but faster rush the wild -huntsmen, and Brian Fitz-Count rides first. - -They have left the clump on Blewbery down behind: the sacred mound on -which St. Birinus once stood when he first preached the Gospel of Christ -to the old English folk of Wessex, is passed unheeded. When lo! they -cross a lateral valley and the stag stops to gaze, then as if mature -reflection teaches him the wood and tangled marsh are safer for him, -descends again to the lower ground. - -What a disappointment to be checked in such a gallant run, to leave the -springy turf and have again to seek the woods and abate their speed, and -what is worse, when they enter the forest they find all the dogs at -variance of purpose; a fox, their natural enemy, has crossed the track -but recently, and nearly all the pack are after him, while the rest -hesitate and rush wildly about. The huntsmen strive to restore order, -but meanwhile the stag has gained upon his pursuers. The poor hunted -beast, panting as though its heart would break, is safe for a while. - - -Let us use a tale-teller's privilege and guide the reader to another -scene. - -Not many furlongs from the spot where the hunters stopped perplexed, -stood a lonely cot in a green islet of ground, amidst the mazy windings -of a brook, which sprang from the hills and rising from the ground in -copious streams, inundated the marsh and gave protection to the dwellers -of this primaeval habitation. - -It was a large cottage for that period, divided into three rooms, the -outer and larger one for living, the two inner and smaller for -bedchambers. Its construction was simple and not unlike those raised by -the dwellers in the wild parts of the earth now. Larches or pines, about -the thickness of a man's leg, had been cut down, shaped with an axe, -driven into the earth at the intervals of half a yard, willow-twigs had -been twined round them, the interstices had been filled with clay, cross -beams had been laid upon the level summits of the posts, a roof of bark -supported on lighter timber placed upon it, slightly shelving from the -ridge, and the outer fabric was complete. Then the inner partitions had -been made, partly with bark, partly with skins, stretched from post to -post; light doors swung on hinges of leather, small apertures covered -with semitransparent skin formed the windows, and a huge aperture in the -roof over a hearth, whereon rested a portable iron grate, served for -chimney. - -A table, roughly made, stood upon trestles, two or three seats, like -milking-stools, supplied the lack of chairs--such was the furniture of -the living room. - -Over the fire sat the occupants of the house--whom we must particularly -introduce to our readers. - -The first and most conspicuous was an old man, dressed mainly in -vestments of skin, but the one impression he produced upon the beholder -was "fallen greatness." Such a face, such noble features, withered and -wrinkled though they were by age; long masses of white hair, untouched -by barber or scissors, hung down his back, and a white wavy beard -reached almost to his waist. - -By his side, attentive to his every word, sat a youth of about sixteen -summers, and he was also worthy of notice--he seemed to combine the -characteristic features of the two races, Norman and English--we will -not use that misnomer "Saxon," our ancestors never called themselves by -other name than English after the Heptarchy was dissolved. His hair was -dark, his features shapely, but there was that one peculiarity of -feature which always gives a pathetic look to the face--large blue eyes -under dark eyebrows. - -The third person was evidently of lower rank than the others, although -this was not evident from any distinction of dress, for poverty had -obliterated all such tokens, but from the general manner, the look of -servitude, the air of submission which characterised one born of a race -of thralls. In truth she was the sole survivor of a race of hereditary -bondsmen, who had served the ancestors of him whom she now tended with -affectionate fidelity amidst poverty and old age. - -Let us listen to their conversation, and so introduce them to the -reader. - -"And so, grandfather," said the boy in a subdued voice of deep feeling, -"you saw him, your father, depart for the last time--the very last?" - -"I remember, as if it were but yesterday, when my father gathered his -churls and thralls[5] around him at our house at Kingestun under the -downs to the west: there were women and children, whose husbands and -fathers were going with him to join the army of Harold at London; they -were all on foot, for we had few knights in those days, but ere my -father mounted his favourite horse--'Whitefoot'--he lifted me in his -arms and kissed me. I was but five years old, and then he pressed my -mother to his bosom, she gave one sob but strove to stifle it, as the -wife of a warrior should. Then all tried to cry--'Long live Thurkill of -Kingestun.' - -"'Come, my men,' said my father, 'we shall beat these dainty Frenchmen, -as our countrymen have beaten the Danes at Stamford, so the 'bode' here -tells me. We go to fill the places of the gallant dead who fell around -our Harold in the hour of victory--let there be no faint hearts amongst -us, 'tis for home and hearth; good-bye, sweethearts,' and they rode -away. - -"They rode first to the Abbey town (Abingdon), and there made their vows -before the famous 'Black Cross' of that ancient shrine; then all bent -them for the long march to London town, where they arrived in time to -march southward with the hero king, the last English king, and -seventy-three years ago this very month of October the end came; blessed -were the dead who fell that awful day on the heights of Senlac, thrice -blessed--and cursed we who survived, to lose home, hearth, altar, and -all, and to beget a race of slaves." - -"Nay, not slaves, grandfather; thou hast never bent the knee." - -"Had I been ten years older, I had been at Senlac and died by my -father's side." - -"But your mother, you lived to comfort her." - -"Not long; when the news of our father's death came, she bore up for my -sake--but when our patrimony was taken by force, and we who had fought -for our true king were driven from our homes as rebels and traitors, to -herd with the beasts of the field; when our thralls became the bondsmen -of men of foreign tongues and hard hearts--her heart broke, and she -left me alone, after a few months of privation." - -"But you fought against the Norman." - -"I fought by the side of the last Englishman who fought at all, with -Hereward and his brave men at the 'Camp of Refuge'; and spent the prime -of my life a prisoner in the grim castle of the recreant Lords of -Wallingford." - -And he lifted up his eyes, suffused with tears, to heaven. - -"Why do you call the Lords of Wallingford Castle recreant?" - -"Because they were false to their country, in submitting to the Norman -invader. When the Conqueror came to Southwark, the brave men of the city -of London, guarded by their noble river and Roman walls, bade him -defiance. So he came up the south bank of the stream to Wallingford, -where the shire-reeve (the sheriff), Wigod, was ready, like a base -traitor, to receive him. There Wigod sumptuously entertained him, and -the vast mound which told of English victory in earlier days, became the -kernel of a Norman stronghold. The Conqueror gave the daughter of Wigod -in marriage to his particular friend, Robert d'Oyley, of Oxford Castle; -and when men afterwards saw men like Wigod of Wallingford and Edward of -Salisbury glutted with the spoils of Englishmen, better and braver than -themselves, they ate their bread in bitterness of spirit, and praised -the dead more than the living." - -Just then a rustling in the branches attracted their attention. - -"Oh, grandfather, there is a gallant stag! may I go and take him?--it -will replenish our larder for days. We have been so hungry." - -"It is death to kill the Baron's deer." - -"When he can catch us!--that!--for him," and the boy snapped his -fingers. - -"Hist! I hear the sound of hound and horn--be cautious, or we may get -into dire trouble." - -"Trust me, grandfather. Where are my arrows? Oh, here they are. Come, -Bruno." - -And a large wolf-hound bounded forth, eager as his young master. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[4] Sir Milo was Sheriff of Gloucester, and was afterwards created Earl -of Hereford by the Empress Maude. - -[5] Otherwise ceorls and theowes, tenant farmers and labourers, the -latter, bondsmen, "_adscripti glebae_," bought with the land, but who -could not be sold apart from it. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -WHO STRUCK THE STAG? - - "It was a stag, a stag of ten, - Bearing his branches sturdily." - - -We left the grandson of the recluse setting forth in quest of the stag. - -Forth he and his dog bounded from the thick covert in which their -cottage was concealed, and emerging from the tall reeds which bordered -the brook, they stood beneath the shade of the mighty beech-trees, whose -trunks upbore the dense foliage, as pillars in the solemn aisles of -cathedrals support the superstructure; for the woods were God's first -temples, and the inhabitants of such regions drew from them the -inspiration from which sprang the various orders of Gothic architecture. - -Here Osric, for such was his name, paused and hid in a thicket of hazel, -for he spied the stag coming down the glade towards him, he restrained -the dog by the leash: and the two lay in ambush. - -The hunted creature, quite unsuspecting any new foes, came down the -glen, bearing his branches loftily, for doubtless he was elate, poor -beast, with the victory which his heels had given him over his human and -canine foes. And now he approached the ambush: the boy had fitted an -arrow to his bow but hesitated, it seemed almost a shame to lay so noble -an animal low; but hunger and want are stern masters, and men must eat -if they would live. - -Just then the creature snuffed the tainted air, an instant, and he would -have escaped; but the bow twanged, and the arrow buried itself in its -side, the stag bounded in the death agony towards the very thicket -whence the fatal dart had come; when Osric met it, and drawing his keen -hunting-knife across its throat, ended its struggles and its life -together. - -He had received a woodland education, and knew what to do; he soon -quartered the stag, whose blood the dog was lapping, and taking one of -the haunches on his shoulders, entered the tangled maze of reeds and -water wherein lay his island-home. - -"Here, grandfather, here is one of the haunches, what a capital fat one -it is! truly it will be a toothsome morsel for thee, and many tender -bits will there be to suit thy aged teeth; come, Judith, come and help -me hang it on the tree; then I will go and fetch the rest, joint by -joint." - -"But stop, Osric, what sound, what noise is that?" and the old man -listened attentively--then added-- - -"Huntsmen have driven that stag hitherwards, and are following on its -trail." - -The breeze brought the uproarious baying of dogs and cries of men down -the woods. It was at that moment, that, as stated in our last chapter, -the fox had crossed the track, and baffled them for the moment. - -Alas for poor Osric, only for the moment, for the huntsmen had succeeded -in getting some of the older and wiser hounds to take up the lost trail, -and the scent of their former enemy again greeting their olfactory -organs, they obeyed the new impulse--or rather the old one renewed, and -were off again after the deer. - -And as we see a flock of sheep, stopped by a fence, hesitating where to -go, until one finds a gap and all follow; so the various undecided dogs -agreed that venison was better than carrion, and the stag therefore a -nobler quarry than the fox; so, save a few misguided young puppies, they -resumed the legitimate chase. - -The huntsmen followed as fast as the trees and bushes allowed them, -until, after a mile or two, they all came to a sudden stand, where the -object of the chase had already met its death at the hands of Osric. - -Meanwhile the unhappy youth had heard them drawing nearer and nearer. He -knew that it would be impossible to escape discovery, unless the -intricacies of their retreat should baffle the hunters, whom they heard -drawing nearer and nearer. The dogs, they knew, would not pursue the -chase beyond the place of slaughter. Oh! if they had but time to mangle -it before the men arrived, so that the manner in which it had met its -death might not be discovered--but that was altogether unlikely. And in -truth clamorous human cries mingled with wild vociferous barkings, -howlings, bayings, and other canine clamour, showed that the hunt was -already assembled close by. - -"I will go forth and own the deed: then perhaps they will not inquire -further----" - -"Nay, my son, await God's Will here." - -And the old man restrained the youth. - -At length they heard such words as these-- - -"He cannot be far off." - -"He is hidden amongst the reeds." - -"Turn in the dogs." - -"They have tasted blood and are useless." - -"Fire the reeds." - -"Nay, grandfather, I must go, the reeds are dry, they will burn us all -together. They may show me mercy if I own it bravely." - -"Nay, they love their deer too well; they will hang thee on the nearest -beech." - -"Look! they have fired the reeds." - -"It may be our salvation: they cannot penetrate them when burning, and -see, if the smoke stifle us not, the fire will not reach us; there is -too much green and dank vegetation around the brook between us and the -reeds." - -"Ah! the wind blows it the other way; nay, it eddies--see that tongue of -flame darting amongst the dry fuel--now another: that thick smoke--there -it is changed to flame. Oh, grandfather, let us get off by the other -side--at once--at once." - -"Thou forgettest I am a cripple; but there may be time for you and -Judith to save yourselves." - -"Nay," said Osric, proudly, "we live or die together." - -"Judith will stay with her old master," said the poor thrall, "and with -her young lord too." - -They were yet "lords" in her eyes, bereft although they were of their -once vast possessions. - -"Perhaps we are as safe here; their patience will wear out before they -can penetrate the island. See, they are firing the reeds out yonder. -Normans love a conflagration," said the old man. - -In fact, it was as much with that inherent love of making a blaze, which -had marked the Normans and the Danes from the beginning, when church, -homestead, barn, and stack, were all kindled as the fierce invaders -swept through the land; that the mischievous and vindictive men-at-arms -had fired the reeds, wherein they thought the slayer of the deer had -taken refuge, when they found that the dogs would not enter after him. -There was little fear of any further harm than the clearing of a few -acres. The trees were too damp to burn, or indeed to take much harm from -so hasty and brief a blaze: so they thought, if they thought at all. - -But the season had been dry, the material was as tinder, and the blaze -reached alarming proportions--several wild animals ran out, and were -slain by the bystanders, others were heard squeaking miserably in the -flames; but that little affected the hardened folk of the time, they had -to learn mercy towards men, before the time came to start a society for -the prevention of cruelty to animals. - -"He cannot be there or he would have run out by this time." - -"He has escaped the other side." - -"Nay, Alain and his men have gone round there to look out." - -"But they cannot cross the brook on foot, and even a horse would get -stuck in the mire." - -"They will do their best." - -The three in the cottage saw the flames rise and crackle all round them, -and the dense clouds of smoke were stifling. Osric got water from the -brook and dashed it all over the roof and the more inflammable portions -of their dwelling, lest a spark should kindle them, and worked hard at -his self-imposed task, in the intense heat. - -But the conflagration subsided almost as rapidly as it arose from sheer -want of fuel, and with the cessation of the flames came the renewal of -the danger of discovery. - -Other voices were now heard, one loud and stern as befitted a leader:-- - -"What meaneth this? Who hath kindled the reeds without my order?" - -"The deer-slayer lurketh within." - -"What deer-slayer? Who struck the stag?" - -"We know not. It could not have been many minutes before we arrived; the -carcase was still warm." - -"He must be caught; thou shalt not suffer a poacher to live, is the -royal command, and mine too; but did you not set the dogs after him?" - -"They had tasted blood, my lord." - -"But if he were hidden herein, he must have come forth. If the bed of -reeds were properly encircled--it seems to cover some roods of forest." - -"A shame for so fine a beast to be so foully murdered." - -"It was a stag of ten branches." - -"And he gave us good sport." - -"We will hang his slayer in his honour." - -"A fine acorn for a lusty oak." - -"When we catch him." - -"He shall dance on nothing, and we will amuse ourselves by his -grimaces." - -"Nothing more laughable than the face a _pendu_ makes with the rope -round his neck." - -"Has anybody got a rope?" - -"Has anybody found the poacher?" - -A general laugh. - -"Silence, listen." - -A dry old oak which had perhaps seen the Druids, and felt the keen knife -bare its bosom of the hallowed mistletoe, had kindled and fallen; as it -fell sending forth showers upon showers of sparks. - -The fall of the tree opened a sort of vista in the flames, and -revealed---- - -"Look," said the Baron, "I see something like the roof of a hut just -beyond the opening the tree has made." - -"I think so too," said Sir Milo of Gloucester. - -"Very well, wait here awhile, my men; these reeds are all burnt, and the -ground will soon cool, then you may go in and see what that hut -contains: reserve them for my judgment. Here, Tristam, here, Raoul, hold -our horses." - -Two sprightly-looking boy pages took the reins, and Brian and Milo, if -we may presume to call them by such familiar appellations, walked -together in the glade. - -Deep were their cogitations, and how much the welfare of England -depended upon them, would hardly be believed by our readers. We would -fain reveal what they said, but only the half can be told. - -"It can be endured no longer!" - -"Soon no one but he will be allowed to build a castle!" - -"But to lay hands upon two anointed prelates." - -"The Bishops of Sarum and Lincoln." - -"Arrested just when they were trusting to his good faith." - -"The one in the king's own ante-chamber, the other in his lodgings -eating his dinner." - -"The Bishop of Ely only escaped by the skin of his teeth." - -"And he, too, was forced to surrender his castle, for the king vowed -that the Bishop of Salisbury should have no food until his nephew of -Ely surrendered, and led poor Roger, pale and emaciated, stretching -forth his skinny hands, and entreating his nephew to save him from -starvation, to and fro before the walls, until he gained his ends, and -the castle was yielded." - -"He is not our true king, but a foul usurper." - -"Well, my good cousin, a few hours may bring us news. But, listen; can -our folk have caught the deer-slayers? let us return to them." - -In the absence of their leaders, the men-at-arms, confiding in the -goodness of their boots and leggings, had trodden across the smoking -soil in the direction where their leader had pointed out the roof of a -hut amidst leafy trees, and had quickly discovered their victims, -crossed the brook, and surrounded the house. - -"Come forth, Osric, my son," said the old man, "whatever befalls, let us -not disgrace our ancestry; let nothing become us in life more than the -mode of leaving it, if die we must." - -"But must we die? what have we done?" - -"Broken their tyrannical laws. Judith, open the door." - -A loud shout greeted the appearance of the old man, his beard descending -to his waist, as he issued forth, leading Osric by the hand. - -"What seek ye, Normans? wherefore have ye surrounded my humble home, -whither tyranny has driven me?" - -A loud shout of exultation. - -"The deer--give up the deer--confess thy guilt." - -"Search for it"--"a haunch was gone"--"if in the house, we need no -further trial"--"to the nearest tree." - -The house was rudely entered--but the haunch, which had been removed -from the tree and hidden by Judith, could not be found. - -"Ye have no proof that we have offended." - -They searched a long while in vain, they opened cupboard and chest, but -no haunch appeared. - -"Examine them by torture: try the knotted cord." - -"One should never go out without thumbscrews in this vile country; they -would fit that young poacher's thumbs well." - -Just then the Baron was seen returning from his stroll with his guest. - -"Bring them to the Baron! bring them to the Baron!" - -"And meanwhile fire the house." - -"Nay, not till we have orders; our master is stern and strict." - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -IN THE GREENWOOD - - "What shall he have who killed the deer?" - - -The return of Brian Fitz-Count and his companion from their stroll in -the woods probably saved our aged friend Sexwulf and his grandson from -much rough treatment, for although in the presence of express orders -from their dread lord, the men-at-arms would not attempt aught against -the _life_ of their prisoners, yet they might have offered any violence -and rudeness short of that last extremity, in their desire to possess -proof of the slaughter of the deer. - -Poor beast, the cause of so much strife: it had behoved him to die -amongst the fangs of the hounds, and he had been foully murdered by -arrow and knife! It was not to be endured. - -But no sooner did the Baron return, than the scene was changed. - -"What means this clamour? Shut your mouths, ye hounds! and bring the -deer-slayers before me; one would think Hell had broken loose amongst -you." - -He sat deliberately down on the trunk of a fallen tree, and called Milo -to be his assessor (_amicus curiae_), as one might have said. - -A circle was immediately formed, and the old man and boy, their arms -tied behind them, were placed before their judge. - -He looked them sternly in the face, as if he would read their hearts. - -"Whose serfs are ye?" - -"We were never in bondage to any man." - -"It is a lie--all Englishmen are in serfdom." - -"Time will deliver them." - -"Do you dare to bandy words with me; if so, a short shrift and a long -halter will suffice: you are within my jurisdiction, and your lives are -as much in my power as those of my hounds." - -This was not said of hot temper, but bred of that cool contempt which -the foreign lords felt for the conquered race with which, nevertheless, -they were destined to amalgamate. - -"Your names?" - -"Sexwulf, son of Thurkill, formerly thane of Kingestun." - -"Whose father fell in the fight at Senlac (Hastings), by the side of the -perjured Harold; and is this thy son? brought up doubtless to be a rebel -like thyself." - -"He is my grandson." - -"And how hast thou lived here, so long unknown, in my woods?" - -"The pathless morass concealed us." - -"And how hast thou lived? I need not ask, on my red deer doubtless." - -"No proof has been found against us," said the old man, speaking with -that meek firmness which seemed to impress his questioner. - -"And now, what hast thou done with the haunch of this deer?" - -"I have not slain one." - -"But the boy may have done so--come, old man, thou lookest like one who -would not lie even to save his neck; now if thou wilt assure me, on the -faith of a Christian, and swear by the black cross of Abingdon that thou -knowest nought of the deer, I will believe thee." - -A pause--but Brian foresaw the result of his appeal. - -"I cannot," said the captive at length; "I did not slay it, yet if, -according to your cruel laws, a man must die for a deer: I refuse not to -die--I am weary of the world." - -"Nay, the father shall not bear the iniquity of the son; that were -contrary to Scripture and to all sound law." - -"Grandfather, thou shalt not die," interrupted the boy; "Baron, it was -I; but must I die for it? we were so hungry." - -"Oh my lord, crush not the young life in the springtime of youth. God -has taken all my children in turn from me, He has deprived me of home -and kin: but He is just. He has left this boy to comfort my old age: -take not away the light of the old man's eyes. See I, who never asked -favour of Norman or foreign lord before, bow my knees to thee; let the -boy live, or if not, let both die together." - -"One life is enough for _one_ deer." - -"Nay, then let me die." - -"Who slew the deer?" - -"I, my lord, and I must die, not my grandfather." - -"It was for me, and I must die, as the primal cause of the deed," said -the old man. - -"By the teeth of St. Peter, I never saw two thralls contending for the -honour of a rope before," said Milo. - -"Nor I, but they have taken the right way to escape. Had they shown -cowardice, I should have felt small pity, but courage and self-devotion -ever find a soft place in my heart; besides, there is something about -this boy which interests me more than I can account for. Old man, tell -the truth, as thou hopest for the life of the boy. Is he really thy -grandson?" - -"He is the son of my daughter, now with the Saints." - -"And who was his sire?" - -"An oppressed Englishman." - -"Doubtless: you all think yourselves oppressed, as my oxen may, because -they are forced to draw the plough, but the boy has the face of men of -better blood, and I should have said there was a cross in the breed: but -hearken! Malebouche, cut their bonds, take a party of six, escort them -to the castle, place them in the third story of the North Tower, give -them food and drink, but let none have access to them till I return." - -Further colloquy was useless; the Baron spoke like a man whose mind was -made up, and his vassals had no choice but to obey. - -Therefore the party broke up, the rest of the train to seek another -stag, if they could find one, but Brian called the Sheriff of Gloucester -aside. - -They stood in a glade of the forest near a tree blown down by the wind, -where they could see the downs beyond. - -"Dost see that barrow, Sir Milo?" - -"I do." - -"It is called Cwichelm's Hlawe; there an old king of these English was -buried; they say he walks by night." - -"A likely place." - -"Well, I have a curiosity to test the fact, moreover the hill commands a -view unrivalled in extent in our country; I shall ride thither." - -"In search of ghosts and night scenery, the view will be limited in -darkness." - -"But beacon fires will show best in the dark." - -"I comprehend; shall I share thy ride?" - -"Nay, my friend, my mind is ill at rest, I want solitude. Return with -the hunting train and await my arrival at the castle; and the Baron -beckoned to his handsome young page Alain, to lead the horse to him. - -"Well, Alain, what didst thou think of the young Englishman? He -confronted death gallantly enough." - -"He is only half an Englishman; I am sure he has Norman blood, _noblesse -oblige_," replied the boy, who was a spoiled pet of his stern lord, -stern to others. - -"Well, the old man feared the cord as little." - -"He has not much life left to beg for: one foot in the grave already." - -"How wouldst thou like that boy for a fellow-page?" - -"Not at all, my lord." - -"And why not?" - -"Because I would like my companions to be of known lineage and of -gentle blood on both sides." - -"The great Conqueror himself was not." - -"And hence many despised him." - -"They did not dare tell him so." - -"Then they were cowards, my lord; I hope my tongue shall never conceal -what my heart feels." - -"My boy, if thou crowest so loudly, I fear thou wilt have a short life." - -"I can make my hands keep my head, at least against my equals." - -"Art thou sorry I pardoned the lad then?" - -"No, I like not to see the brave suffer; had he been a coward I should -have liked the sport fairly well." - -"Sport?" - -"It is so comical to see deer-stealers dance on nothing, and it serves -them right." - -Now, do not let my readers think young Alain unnatural, he was of his -period; pity had small place, and the low value set on life made boys -and even men often see the ridiculous side of a tragedy, and laugh when -they should have wept: yet courage often touched their sympathies, when -entreaty would have failed. - -But the Lord of Wallingford was in a gentle frame of mind, uncommon in -him: he had not merely been touched by the strife, which of the two -should die, between the ill-assorted pair, but there had been something -in every tone and gesture of the boy which had awakened strange sympathy -in his heart, and the sensation was so unprecedented, that Brian longed -for solitude to analyse it. - -In truth, the prisoners had not been in great danger, for although their -judge was pleased to try their courage, he had not the faintest -intention of proceeding to any extremities with either grandsire or -grandson--not at least after he had heard the voice of the boy. - -The party broke up, the Baron rode on alone towards the heights, the -sheriff, attended by young Alain, returned down the course of the -stream towards the castle. The rest separated into divers bands, some to -hunt for deer or smaller game, so as not to return home with empty -hands, to the great wrath of the cooks and others also. Malebouche with -six archers escorted the prisoners. They rode upon one steed, the boy in -front of his sire. - -"Old man, what is the stripling's name?" - -"Osric." - -"And you will not tell who his sire was?" - -"If I would not tell your dread lord, I am not likely to tell thee." - -"Because I have a _guess_: a mere suspicion." - -"'Thoughts are free;' it will soon be shown whether it be more." - -"Which wouldst thou soonest be in thy heart, boy, English or Norman?" - -"English," said the boy firmly. - -"Thou preferrest then the deer to the lion?" - -"I prefer to be the oppressed rather than the oppressor." - -"Well, well, each man to his taste, but I would sooner be the wolf who -eats, than the sheep which is eaten; of the two sensations I prefer the -former. Now dost thou see that proud tower soaring into the skies down -the brook? it is the keep of Wallingford Castle. Stronger hold is not in -the Midlands." - -"I have been there before," said old Sexwulf. - -"Not in my time." - - -Our readers may almost have forgotten the existence of the poor thrall -Judith during the exciting scene we have narrated. - -She loved her masters, young and old, deeply loved them did this -hereditary slave, and her anxiety had been extreme during the period of -their danger: she skipped in and out of the hut, for no one thought her -worth molesting, she peered through the bushes, she acted like a hen -partridge whose young are in danger, and when they bound Osric, -actually flew at the men-at-arms, but they thrust her so roughly aside -that she fell; little recked they. An English thrall, were she wife, -mother, or daughter, was naught in their estimation. - -Yet she did not feel the same anxiety in one respect, which Sexwulf -felt. "I can save him yet," she muttered; "they shall never put a rope -around his bonnie neck, not even if I have to betray the secret I have -kept since his infancy." - -So she listened close at hand. Once or twice she seemed on the point of -thrusting herself forward, when the fate of her dear boy seemed to hang -in the balance, but restrained herself. - -"I promised," she said, "I promised, and _he_ will grieve to learn that -I was faithless to my word. The old woman has a soul, aged crone though -she be: and I swore by the black cross of Abingdon. Yet black cross or -white one, I would risk the claws of Satan, sooner than allow the rope -to touch his neck: bad enough that it should encircle his fair wrists." - -When at last the suspense was over, and the grandsire and grandson were -ordered to be taken as prisoners to the castle, she seemed content. - -"I must see him," she said, "and tell him what has chanced: he will know -what to do." - -Just then she heard a voice which startled her. - -"Shall we burn the hut, my lord?" - -A moment of suspense: then came the stern reply. - -"He that doth so shall hang from the nearest oak." - -She chuckled. - -"The spell already works," she said; "I may return to the shelter which -has been mine so long. He will not harm them." - -The time of the separation of the foe had now come; the Baron rode off -to his midnight watch on Cwichelm; Malebouche conducted the two captives -along the road to the distant keep; the others, men and dogs, circulated -right and left in the woods. - -The woods and reeds were still smoking, the atmosphere was dense and -murky, as Judith returned to the hut. - -She sat by the fire which still smoked on the hearth, and rocked herself -to and fro, and as she sat she sang in an old cracked voice-- - - - "They sought my bower one murky night, - They burnt my bower, they slew my knight; - My servants all for life did flee, - And left me in extremitie: - But vengeance yet shall have its way, - When shall the son the sire betray?" - - -The last line was very enigmatical, like a Delphic response; perhaps our -tale may solve it. - -Then at last she arose, and going to a corner of the hut, opened a chest -filled with poor coarse articles of female attire, such as a slave might -wear, but at the bottom wrapped in musty parchment was something of -greater value. - -It was a ring with a seal, and a few articles of baby attire, a little -red shoe, a small frock, and a lock of maiden's hair. - -She kissed the latter again and again, ere she looked once more at the -ring: it bore a crest upon a stone of opal, and she laughed weirdly. - -The crest was the crest of Brian Fitz-Count. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -CWICHELM'S HLAWE - - -It was a wild and lonely spot, eight hundred feet above sea level, the -highest ground of the central downs of Berkshire, looking northward over -a vast expanse of fertile country, as yet but partially tilled, and -mainly covered with forest. - -A tumulus or barrow of huge dimensions arose on the summit, no less than -one hundred and forty yards in circumference, and at that period some -fifty feet in height; it had been raised five hundred years earlier in -the history of the country over the remains of the Saxon King Cwichelm, -son of Cynegils, and grandson of Ceol, who dwelt in the Isle of Ceol--or -Ceolseye--and left his name to Cholsey. - -A wood of firs surrounded the solemn mound, which, however, dominated -them in height; the night wind was sighing dreamily over them, the -heavens were alternately light and dark as the aforesaid wind made rifts -in the cloud canopy and closed them again--ever and anon revealing the -moon wading amidst, or rather beyond, the masses of vapour. - -An aged crone stood on the summit of the mound clad in long flowing -garments of coarse texture, bound around the waist with a girdle of -leather; her hair, white as snow, streamed on the wind. She supported -her strength by an ebony staff chased with Runic figures. Any one who -gazed might perchance have thought her a sorceress, or at least a seer -of old times raised again into life. - -"Ah, he comes!" - -Over the swelling ridges of the downs she saw a horseman approaching; -heard before she saw, for the night was murky. - -The horseman dismounted in the wood, tied his horse to a tree, left it -with a huge boar-hound, as a guard, and penetrating the wood, ascended -the mound. - -"Thou art here, mother: the hour is come; it is the first day of the -vine-month, as your sires called it." - -"Yes, the hour is come, the stars do not lie, nor did the mighty dead -deceive me." - -"The dead; call them not, whilst I am here." - -"Dost thou fear them? We must all share their state some day." - -"I would sooner, far sooner, not anticipate the time." - -"Yet thou hast sent many, and must send many more, to join them." - -"It is the fortune of war; I have had Masses said for their souls. It -might have chanced to me." - -"Ha! ha! so thou wouldst not slay soul and body both?" - -"God forbid." - -"Well, once I believed in Priest and Mass--I, whom they call the witch -of 'Cwichelm's Hlawe': now I prefer the gods of war, of storm, and of -death; Woden, Thor, and Teu; nay, even Hela of horrid aspect." - -"Avaunt thee, witch! wouldst worship Satan!" - -"Since God helped me not: listen, Brian Fitz-Count. I, the weird woman -of the haunted barrow, was once a Christian, and a nun." - -"A nun!" - -"Yea, and verily. A few of us had a little cell, a dozen were we in -number, and we lived under the patronage--a poor reed to lean on we -found it--of St. Etheldreda.[6] Now a stern Norman like thyself came -into those parts after the conquest; he had relations abroad who 'served -God' after another rule; he craved our little home for them; he drove -us out to perish in the coldest winter I remember. The abbess, clinging -to her home and refusing to go, was slain by the sword: two or three -others died of cold; we sought shelter in vain, the distress was -everywhere. I roamed hither--I was born at the village of Hendred -below--my friends were dead and gone, my father had followed Thurkill of -Kingestun, and been killed at Senlac. My mother, in consequence, had -been turned out of doors by the new Norman lord, and none ever learned -what became of her, my sweet mother! my brothers had become outlaws; my -sisters--well, I need tell thee no more. I lost faith in the religion, -in the name of which, and under the sanction of whose chief teacher, the -old man who sits at Rome, the thing had been done. They say I went mad. -I know I came here, and that the dead came and spoke with me, and I -learned mysteries of which Christians dream not, yet which are true for -good or ill." - -"And by their aid thou hast summoned me here, but I marvel thou hast not -perished as a witch amidst fire and faggot." - -"They protect me!" - -"Who are they?" - -"Never mind; that is my secret." - -"Thou didst tell me that if I came to-night I should see the -long-expected signal to arm my merrie men, and do battle for our winsome -ladie." - -"Cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of war. Well, I told thee truly: the -hour is nigh, wait and watch with me; fix thine eyes on the south." - -Dim and misty the outlines of the hills looked in that uncertain -gloaming; here and there a light gleamed from some peasant's hut, for -the hour of eight had not yet struck, when, according to the curfew law, -light and fire had to be extinguished. But our lone watchers saw them -all disappear at last, and still the light they looked for shone not -forth. - -"Why does not the bale-fire blaze?" - -"Baleful shall its influence be." - -"Woman, one more question I have. Thou knowest my family woes, that I -have neither kith nor kin to succeed me, no gallant boy for whom to win -honour: two have I had, but they are dead to the world." - -"The living death of leprosy." - -"And one--not indeed the lawful child of my spouse--was snatched from me -in tender infancy; one whom I destined for my heir: for why should that -bar-sinister which the Conqueror bore sully the poor child. Thou -rememberest?" - -"Thou didst seek me in the hour of thy distress, and I told thee the -child lived." - -"Does it yet live? tell me." And the strong man trembled with eagerness -and emotion as he looked her eagerly in the face. - -"They have not told me; I know not." - -"Methinks I saw him to-day." - -"Where?" - -"In the person of a peasant lad--the grandson of an old man, who has -lived, unknown, in my forest, and slain my deer." - -"And didst thou hang him, according to thy wont?" - -"No, for he was brave, and something in the boy's look troubled me, and -reminded me of her I once called my 'Aimee.' She was English, but -Eadgyth was hard to pronounce, so I called her 'Aimee.'" - -"Were there any marks by which you could identify your boy? Pity such a -race should cease." - -"I remember none. And the grandfather claims the lad as his own. Tell -me, is he mine?" - -"I know not, but there is a way in which thou canst inquire." - -"How?" - -"Hast thou courage?" - -"None ever questioned it and lived." - -"But many could face the living, although girt in triple mail, who fear -the dead." - -"I am distracted with hope." - -"And thou canst face the shrouded dead?" - -"I would dare their terrors." - -"Sleep here, then, to-night." - -"Where?" - -"In a place which I will show thee, ha! ha!" - -"Is it near?" - -"Beneath thy feet." - -"Beneath my feet?" - -"It is the sepulchre of the royal dead." - -"Of Cwichelm?" - -"Even he." - -"May I see it? the bale-fire blazes not, and it is cold waiting here." - -"Come." - -"Lead on, I follow." - -She descended the sloping sides of the mound, he followed. At the base, -amidst nettles and briars, was a rude but massive door. She drew forth a -heavy key and opened it. She passed along a narrow passage undeterred by -a singular earthy odour oppressive to the senses, and the Baron followed -until he stood by her side, in a chamber excavated in the very core of -the huge mound. - -There, in the centre, was a large stone coffin, and within lay a giant -skeleton. - -"It is he, who was king of this land." - -"Cwichelm, son of Ceol, who dwelt in the spot they now call Ceolseye." - -"And the son of the Christian King of Wessex--they mingled Christian and -Pagan rites when they buried him here. See his bow and spear." - -"But who burrowed this passage? Surely they left it not who buried him?" - -"Listen, and your ears shall drink in no lies. Folk said that his royal -ghost protected this spot, and that if the heathen Danes came where the -first Christian king lay, guarding the land, even in death, they should -see the sea no more. Now, in the Christmas of the year 1006, aided by a -foul traitor, Edric Streorn, they left the Isle of Wight, where they -were wintering, and travelling swiftly, burst upon the ill-fated, -unwarned folk of this land, on the very day of the Nativity, for Edric -had removed the guardians of the beacon fires.[7] They burnt Reading; -they burnt Cholsey, with its church and priory; they burned Wallingford; -they slew all they met, and left not man or beast alive whom they could -reach, save a few most unhappy captives, whom they brought here after -they had burned Wallingford, for here they determined to abide as a -daring boast, having heard of the prophecy, and despising it. And here -they revelled after the fashion of fiends for nine days and nights. Each -day they put to death nine miserable captives with the torture of the -Rista Eorn, and so they had their fill of wine and blood. And as they -had heard that treasures were buried with Cwichelm, they excavated this -passage. Folk said that they were seized with an awful dread, which -prevented their touching his bones or further disturbing his repose. At -length they departed, and each year since men have seen the ghosts of -their victims gibbering in the moonlight between Christmas and Twelfth -Day." - -"Hast thou?" - -"Often, but covet not the sight; it freezes the very marrow in the -bones. Only beware that thou imitate not these Danes in their -wickedness." - -"I?" - -"Yes, even thou." - -"Am I a heathen dog?" - -"What thou art I know, what thou wilt become I think I trow. But peace: -wouldst thou invoke the dead king to learn thy future path? I can raise -him." - -Brian Fitz-Count was a brave man, but he shuddered. - -"Another time; besides, mother, the bale-fire may be blazing even now!" - -"Come and see, then. I foresee thou wilt return in time of sore need." - -They reached the summit of the mound. The change to the open air was -most refreshing. - -"Ah! the bale-fire!!" - -Over the rolling wastes, far to the south, arose the mountainous range -now called Highclere. It was but faintly visible in the daytime, and -under the uncertain moonlight, only those familiar with the locality -could recognise its position. The central peak was now tipped with fire, -crowned with a bright flickering spot of light. - -And while they looked, Lowbury caught the blaze, and its beacon fire -glowed in the huge grating which surmounted the tower, whose foundations -may yet be traced. From thence, Synodune took up the tale and told it to -the ancient city of Dorchester, whose monks looked up from cloistered -hall and shuddered. The heights of Nettlebed carried forward the fiery -signal, and blazing like a comet, told the good burgesses of Henley and -Reading that evil days were at hand. The Beacon Hill, above Shirburne -Castle, next told the lord of that baronial pile that he might buckle on -his armour, and six counties saw the blaze on that beacon height. -Faringdon Clump, the home of the Ffaringas of old, next told the news to -the distant Cotswolds and the dwellers around ancient Corinium; and soon -Painswick Beacon passed the tidings over the Severn to the old town of -Gloucester, whence Milo came, and far beyond to the black mountains of -Wales. The White Horse alarmed Wiltshire, and many a lover of peace -shook his head and thought of wife and children, although but few knew -what it all meant, namely, that the Empress Maud, the daughter of the -Beauclerc, had come to claim her father's crown, which Stephen, thinking -it right to realise the prophecy contained in his name,[8] had put on -his own head. - -And from Cwichelm's Hlawe the curious ill-assorted couple we have -portrayed beheld the war beacons' blaze. - -She lost all her self-possession, she became entranced; her hair -streamed behind her in the wind; she stretched out her aged arms to the -south and sang--did that crone of ninety years-- - - - "Come hither, fatal cloud of death, - O'er England breathe thy hateful breath; - Breathe o'er castles, churches, towns, - Brood o'er flat plain, and cloud-flecked downs, - Until the streams run red with gore, - From eastern sea to western shore. - Let mercy frighted haste away, - Let peace and love no longer stay, - Let justice outraged swoon away, - But let revenge and bitter hate - Alone control the nation's fate; - Let fell discord the chorus swell, - Let every hold become a hell---- - Let----" - - -"Nay, nay, mother, enough! Thou ravest. Every hold a hell! not at least -Wallingford Castle!" - -"That worst of all, Brian Fitz-Count. There are possibilities of evil in -thee, which might make Satan laugh! Thy sword shall make women -childless, thy torch light up----" - -"Nay, nay, no more, I must away. My men will go mad when they see these -fires. I must home, to control, advise, direct." - -"Go, and the powers of evil be with thee. Work out thy curse and thy -doom, since so it must be!" - -FOOTNOTES: - -[6] See a similar instance in Thierry's _Norman Conquest_, vol. i. - -[7] I have told the story of this Danish invasion in _Alfgar the Dane_. - -[8] "Stephanus" signifies "a crown." - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -ON THE DOWNS - - -We fear that Brian Fitz-Count must have sunk in the reader's estimation. -After the perusal of the last chapter, it is difficult to understand how -a doughty warrior and belted knight could so demean himself as to take -an old demented woman into his consultations, and come to her for -guidance. - -Let us briefly review the phases of mind through which he had passed, -and see whether we can find any rational explanation of his condition. - -The one great desire of Brian's life was to have a son to whom he could -bequeath his vast possessions, and his reflected glory. Life was short, -but if he could live, as it were, in the persons of his descendants, it -seemed as if death would be more tolerable. God heard his prayer. He had -two sons, fine lads, by his Countess, and awhile he rejoiced in them, -but the awful scourge of leprosy made its appearance in his halls. For a -long time he would not credit the reality of the infliction, and was -with difficulty restrained from knocking down the physician who first -announced the fact. By degrees the conviction was forced upon him, and -the law of the time--the unwritten law especially--forced him to consign -them to a house of mercy for lepers, situated near Byfield in -Northamptonshire. Poor boys, they wept sore, for they were old enough to -share their father's craving for glory and distinction; but they were -torn away and sent to this living tomb, for in the eyes of all men it -was little better. - -Brian wearied Heaven with prayers; he had Masses innumerable said on -their behalf; he gave alms to all the churches of Wallingford for the -poor; he made benefactions to Reading Abbey and the neighbouring -religious houses; he helped to enrich the newly-built church of Cholsey, -built upon the ruins of the edifice the Danes had burnt. But still -Heaven was obdurate, the boys did not recover, and he had to part with -the delight of his eyes. - -And then ensued a sudden collapse of faith. He ceased to pray. God heard -not prayer: perhaps there was no God; and he ceased from his good deeds, -gave no alms, neglected Divine service, and became a sceptic in -heart--secretly, however, for whatever a man might think in his heart in -those days of ecclesiastical power, the doughtiest baron would hesitate -to avow scepticism; men would condone, as, alas, many do now, an -irreligious life, full of deeds of evil, if only the evil-doer -_professed_ to believe in the dominant Creed. - -When a man ceases to believe in God, he generally comes to believe in -the Devil. Men must have a belief of some sort; so in our day, men who -find Christianity too difficult, take to table turning, and like -phenomena, and practise necromancy of a mild description. - -So it was then. Ceasing to believe in God, Brian Fitz-Count believed in -witches. - -The intense hatred of witchcraft, begotten of dread, which kindled the -blazing funeral pyres of myriads of people, both guilty--at least in -intention--and innocent of the black art, had not yet attained its -height. - -Pope Innocent had not yet pronounced his fatal decree. The witch -inquisitors had not yet started on their peregrinations, Hopkins had yet -to be born, and so the poor crazed nun who had done no one any harm, -whom wise men thought mad, and foolish ones inspired, was allowed to -burrow at Cwichelm's Hlawe. - -And many folk resorted to her, to make inquiries about lost property, -lost kinsfolk, the present and the future. Amongst others, a seneschal -of Wallingford, who had lost a valuable signet ring belonging to his -lord. - -"On your return to the castle seize by the throat the first man you meet -after you pass the portals. He will have the ring." - -And the first man the seneschal met was a menial employed to sweep and -scour the halls; him without fear he seized by the throat. "Give me the -ring thou hast found," and lo, the affrighted servitor, trembling, drew -it forth and restored it. - -Brian heard of the matter; it penetrated through the castle. He gave -orders to hang the servitor, but the poor wretch took sanctuary in time; -and then he rode over to Cwichelm's Hlawe himself. - -What was his object? - -To inquire after his progeny. - -One son, a beautiful boy, had escaped the fatal curse, but it was not -the child of his wife. Brian had loved a fair English girl, whom he had -wooed rather by violence than love. He carried her away from her home, a -thing too common in those lawless days to excite much comment. She died -in giving birth to a fair boy, and was buried in the adjacent graveyard. - -After he lost his other two children by leprosy, Brian became devoted to -this child; the reader has heard how he lost him. - -And to inquire whether, perchance, the child, whose body had never been -found, yet lived, Brian first rode to Cwichelm's Hlawe. - -"Have I given the fruit of my body for the sin of my soul?" was his -bitter cry. "Doth the child yet live?" - -The supposed sorceress, after incantations dire, intended to impress the -mind, replied in the affirmative. - -"But where?" - -"Beware; the day when thou dost regain him it will be the bitterest of -thy life." - -"But where shall he be found?" - -"That the dead have not told me." - -"But they may tell." - -"I know not, but thou shalt see him again in the flesh. Come again in -the vine-month, when the clouds of war and rapine shall begin to gather -over England once more, and I will tell thee all I shall have learned." - -"The clouds of war and rapine?" - -"Yes, Brian Fitz-Count. Dost thou, the sworn ally of the banished -Empress, mistake my words?" - -And we have seen the result of that last interview--in the second visit. - - * * * * * - -When Brian rode from the barrow--out on the open downs--he gazed upon -the beacons which yet blazed, and sometimes shouted with exultation, for -like a war-horse he sniffed the coming battle, and shouted ha! ha! He -gave his horse the reins and galloped along the breezy ridge--following -the Icknield way--his hound behind him. - -And then he saw another horseman approaching from the opposite -direction, just leaving the Blewbery down. In those days when men met it -was as when in a tropical sea, in days happily gone by, sailors saw a -strange sail: the probability was that it was an enemy. - -Still Brian feared not man, neither God nor man, and only loosing his -sword in its sheath, he rode proudly to the _rencontre_. - -"What ho! stranger! who? and whence?" - -"Thy enemy from the grave, whither thou hast sent my kith and kin." - -"Satan take thee; when did I slay them? If I did, must I send thee to -rejoin them?" - -"Try, and God defend the right. Here on this lonely moor, we meet face -to face. Defend thyself." - -"Ah! I guess who thou art: an outlaw!" - -"One whom thou didst make homeless." - -"Ah! I see, Wulfnoth of Compton. Tell me, thou English boar, what thou -didst with my child." - -"And if I slew him, as thou didst mine, what then?" - -A mighty blow was the reply, and the two drawing their swords, fell to -work--the deadly work. - -And by their sides a canine battle took place, a wolf-hound, which -accompanied the stranger, engaged the boar-hound of the Baron. - -Oh! how they strove; how blow followed blow; how the horses seemed to -join in the conflict, and tried to bite and kick each other with their -rampant fore-feet; how the blades crashed; how thrust, cut, and parry, -succeeded each other. - -But Norman skill prevailed over English strength, and the Englishman -fell prone to the ground, with a frightful wound on the right shoulder, -while his horse galloped round and round in circles. - -And meanwhile the opposite result took place in the struggle between the -quadrupeds: the wolf-hound had slain the boar-hound. Brian would fain -have avenged his favourite, but the victor avoided his pursuit, and bow -and arrows had he none, nor missile of any kind, for he had accidentally -left his hunting spear behind. - -He looked at his foe who lay stretched on the turf, bleeding profusely. -Then dismounting, he asked sternly-- - -"Say what thou didst with my boy!" - -"Strike; thou shalt never know." - -And Brian would have struck, but his opponent fell back senseless, and -he could not strike him in that condition: something restrained his -hand. - -"Poor Bruno," he said, as he gave his gallant hound one sigh. "Less -fortunate than thy lord; that mongrel cur hath slain thee: but I may not -stay to waste tears over thee," and remounting, he rode away unscathed -from the struggle, leaving the horse of the vanquished one to roam the -downs. - -And as he rode, his thoughts were again on his lost child, and on the -boy whom he had seen on the previous day, and sent before him in -durance. Was it possible this was his son? Nay, the old man, who would -not lie to save his life, had affirmed the contrary. Still he would make -further inquiries, and keep the lad in sight, if not assured of his -birth and parentage. - -A thought struck him: should he threaten the torture to the aged -Englishman, and so strive to wring the secret--if there were one--from -him. Yet he hesitated, and debated the question with its pros and cons -again and again, until the greater urgency of the coming struggle -extinguished all other thoughts in his mind. - -He had enemies, yes, bitter ones, and now that the dogs of war were -allowed to be unchained, he would strike a blow for himself, as well as -for Maud. Why, there was that hated rival, the Lord of Shirburne, who -boasted that he kept the Key of the Chilterns in his hand--there was his -rival of Donnington Castle over the downs--what splendid opportunities -for plunder, vainglory, and revenge. - -In such meditations did the Lord of Wallingford ride home through the -forest, and adown the Moreton brook. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile his defeated foe, upon whom the victor had scarcely bestowed a -passing thought, lay stiff and stark upon the ground. - -The night wind sang a dirge over him, but no human being was there to -see whether the breath was yet in him. But a canine friend was -there--his poor wolf hound--mangled by the teeth of his foe, but yet -alive and likely to live. And now he came up to the prostrate body of -his master and licked his face, while from time to time he raised his -nose in the air, and uttered a plaintive howl, which floated adown the -wind an appeal for help. - -Was it a prayer for the living or the dead? - -Surely there were the signs of life, the hues of that bloodless cheek -are not yet those of death; see, he stirs! only just a stir, but it -tells of life, and where there is life there is hope. - -But who shall cherish the flickering spark? - -The aspect of nature seems all merciless. Is there mercy yet in man? - -A faint beating of the heart; a faint pulsation of the wrist--it might -be quickened into life. - -Is it well that he should live? - -A typical Englishman, of Saxon lineage, stout, thickset. Did we believe -in the transmigration of souls, we should say he had been a bull in some -previous state of existence. Vast strength, great endurance, do find -their incarnations in that frame: he might have felled an ox, but yet he -went down before the subtlety of Norman fence. - -Is it good that he should live, an outlaw, whose life any Norman may -take and no questions asked? Look at that arm; it may account for many a -Norman lost in solitary wayfaring. Oh! what memories of wrong sleep -within that insensible brain! - -Happily it is for a wiser power to decide. - -Listen, there is a tinkling of small bells over there in the distance. -It draws nearer; the dog gives a louder howl--now the party is close. - -Five or six horses, a sumpter mule, five or six ecclesiastics in sombre -dress, riding the horses, the hoods drawn back over the heads, the -horses richly caparisoned, little silver bells dependent here and there -from their harness. - -"What have we here, brother Anselm? why doth the dog thus howl?" - -"There hath been a fray, brother Laurentius. Here is a corpse; pray for -his soul." - -"Nay, he yet liveth," said a third, who had alighted. "I feel his heart -beat; he is quite warm. But, oh! Saint Benedict! what a wound, what a -ghastly gash across the shoulder." - -"Raise him on the sumpter mule; we must bear him home and tend him. -Remember the good Samaritan." - -"But first let me bind up the wound as well as I can, and pour in oil -and wine. I will take him before me. Sancta Maria! what a weight! No, -good dog, we mean thy master no harm." - -But the dog offered no opposition; he saw his master was in good hands. -He only tried as well as his own wounds would let him to caper for joy. - -"Poor dog, he hath been hurt too. How chanced it? What a mystery." - -Happily the good brothers never travelled without medicinal stores, and -a little ointment modifies pain. - -So in a short time they were on their road again, carrying the wounded -with them. - -They were practical Christians, those monks. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -DORCHESTER ABBEY - - -The Abbey of Dorchester stood on the banks of the river Tame, a small -stream arising near the town of the same name, and watering the finest -pasture land of the county of Oxfordshire, until, half a mile below the -Abbey, it falls into the Isis, which thence, strictly speaking, becomes -the Thames (Tamesis). - -This little town of Dorchester is not unknown to fame; it was first a -British town, then a Roman city. Destroyed by the Saxons, it rose from -its ashes to become the Cathedral city of the West Saxons, and the scene -of the baptism of Cynegils, son of Ceol, by the hands of St. Birinus. -The see was transferred to Winchester, but afterwards it became the seat -of the great Mercian bishopric, and as its jurisdiction had once reached -the Channel, so now it extended to the Humber and the Wash. - -Cruelly destroyed by the Danes, it never regained its importance, and on -account of its impoverished state,[9] the see was again removed by -Remigius, the first Norman Bishop, to Lincoln, in the year 1092. But -although the ancient city was thus deserted, the Bishop strove to make -it some amends. He took care that an abbey should be created at -Dorchester, lest the place should be ruined, or sunk in oblivion; and -some say the Abbey was built with the stones which came from the -Bishop's palace, the site of which is still marked by a farm called -"Bishop's Court." - -But the earlier buildings must have been of small extent, for at the -time of our story, Alexander, Bishop of Lincoln, was busy with a more -magnificent structure, and he had already removed into the buildings, as -yet but incomplete, a brotherhood of Black Canons, or Augustinians, -under the rule of Abbot Alured. - -The great church which had been the cathedral--the mother church of the -diocese--had been partially rebuilt in the Norman style,[10] and around -stood the buildings of the Abbey, west and north of the church. - -In the scriptorium, overlooking the Tame, sat Abbot Alured. The Chapter -Mass, which followed Terce (9 A.M.), had been said, and he was busy with -the librarian, arranging his books. Of middle stature, with dark -features, he wore an air of asceticism, tempered by an almost feminine -suavity, and his voice was soft and winning. - -He was the son of a Norman knight by an English wife, who had brought -the aforesaid warrior an ample dowry in lands, for thus did the policy -of the Conqueror attempt the reconciliation of conflicting interests and -the amalgamation of the rival races of conquerors and conquered. For a -long time the pair were childless, until the mother--like Hannah, whose -story she had heard in church--vowed, if God would grant her a child, to -dedicate it to God. Alured was born, and her husband, himself weary of -perpetual fighting and turmoil, allowed her to fulfil her vow. The boy -was educated at Battle Abbey, and taught monastic discipline; sent -thence to Bec, which the fame of Lanfranc and Anselm--both successively -translated to Canterbury--had made the most renowned school of theology -in Northern Europe. There he received the tonsure, and passed through -the usual grades, until, attracting the attention of Bishop Alexander, -during a visit of that prelate to Bec, he was selected to be the new -Abbot of Dorchester. - -And now he was in the library, or scriptorium--the chamber he loved best -in his Abbey. What books, forsooth, had he there in those dark ages! - -First there were all the books of the Old Testament in several volumes -and in the Latin tongue; then the New Testament in three volumes; there -were all the works of St. Augustine, in nineteen large tomes, with most -of the books of the other fathers of the Western Church; the lives of -the great monastic Saints, and the martyrology or acts of the Martyrs. -There were books of ecclesiastical history, and treatises on Church -music, with various liturgical works. Of light reading there was none, -but the lives of the Saints and Martyrs furnished the most exciting -reading, wherein fact was unintentionally blended with fiction. - -"What a wonderful mine of wealth we have here in this new martyrology! -Truly, my brethren, here we have the patience and faith of the Saints to -encourage us in our warfare," said the Abbot, opening a huge volume -bound in boar's hide, and glancing round at the scribes, who, pen in -hand and ink-horn at their girdles, with clear sheets of vellum before -them, prepared to write at his dictation. - -"This book was lent us by the Abbot of Abingdon, now six months ago, and -before Advent it must be returned thither--not until every letter has -been duly transcribed into our new folios. Where didst thou leave off -yesterday?" - -"At the 'Acts of St. Artemas.'" - -And the Abbot read, while they wrote down his words: "Artemus was a -Christian boy, who lived at Puteoli, and who was sent, at the -instigation of heathen relations, to the school of one Cathageta, a -heathen. But the little scholar could not hide his faith, although -bidden to do so, lest he should suffer persecution. But what is deep in -the heart comes out of the mouth, and he converted two or three -schoolfellows, so that at the next festival, in honour of Diana, they -omitted to place the customary garlands on her image. This aroused -inquiry, and the young athlete of Christ was discovered. The master, -bidding him renounce his faith in vain, severely scourged him, but the -boy said: 'The more you scourge me the more you whip my religion into -me.' Whereupon Cathageta, turning to the other scholars, said: 'Perhaps -your endeavours will be more successful than mine in wiping out this -disgrace from the school;' and he departed, leaving him to the mercies -of the other boys, who, educated in the atrocities of the arena, stabbed -him to death with their stili or pointed iron pens."[11] - -"Poor boy," murmured the youngest copyist--himself but a boy--when the -dictation was finished. - -"Nay; glorious Martyr, you mean. He has his reward now. You have heard -me speak of the martyrdom of St. Euthymius; that was a harder one. It -follows here. - -"St. Euthymius was a Bishop of the African Church, who, being taken by -his persecutors, and refusing to offer sacrifice to the idols, was shut -up in a close stone cell with a multitude of mice. A wire, attached to a -bell outside, was placed near his hand, and he was told that if he were -in distress he might ring it, and should obtain immediate assistance; -but that his doing so would be taken as equivalent to a renunciation of -Christ. No bell was heard, and when on the third day they opened the -cell, they found nought but a whitened skeleton and a multitude of -fattened mice." - -Every one drew in his breath, some in admiration, some in horror. - -The young novice had suspended his labours to listen. - -"Benedict, you are neglecting your gradual," said the Abbot. "The music -must be completed for the coming festival of All Saints; it is the chant -of Fescamp--somewhat softer to our ears than the harsher Gregorian -strains. Yet many love the latter well; as did the monks of -Glastonbury." - -Here he paused, and waited until he saw they were all open-mouthed for -his story; for such was monastic discipline, that no one ventured to -say: "Tell us the story." - -"Well," he said, "the English monks of Glastonbury had endured much -unmerited severity at the hands of Thurstan, their Norman Abbot, but -they bore all, until he bade them leave off their crude Gregorian -strains, and chant the lays of William of Fescamp. Then they stoutly -refused; and he sent for a troop of men-at-arms. The monks rushed to the -great church and barred themselves in, but the men-at-arms forced a way -into the church, and slew the greater part of the monks with their -arrows. So thick was the storm of piercing shafts, that the image of the -Christ on the rood was stuck full of these sacrilegious missiles." - -"And what became of Thurstan?" asked one of the elder brethren. - -"The king deposed him, as unfit to rule; suggesting that a shepherd -should not flay his sheep." - -"And that was all?" said an indignant young novice, whose features -showed his English blood. - -"Hush! my son Wilfred. Novices must hear--not speak. Speech is silver; -silence is golden." - -At that moment the Prior made his appearance in the doorway. - -"My father Abbot, the brethren have returned from our poor house at -Hermitage, and they bring a wounded man, whom they found on the downs." - -"English or Norman?" - -"The former, I believe, but he has not yet spoken." - -"Send for the almoner and infirmarer. I will come and look at him -myself." - -Leaving the scriptorium, the Abbot traversed the pleasant cloisters, -which were full of boys, learning their lessons under the -superintendence of certain brethren--some declining Latin nouns or -conjugating verbs; some reading the scanty leaves of parchment which -served as lesson books, more frequently repeating passages _viva voce_ -after a master, while seated upon rude forms, or more commonly standing. -So were the cloisters filled--the only schools for miles around. They -looked upon an inner quadrangle of the monastery, with the great church -to the south. Passing through a passage to the west of the nave, the -Abbot reached the gateway of the abbey, somewhere near the site of the -present tower, which is modern. The view to the south from this point -stretched across the Thames to Synodune; nearer at hand rose to left and -right the towers of two parish churches,[12] the buildings of the town -(or city, as it had hitherto been), poor and straggling as compared with -the ecclesiastical dwellings, lay before them; the embankment of the -Dyke hills then terminated the town in this direction, and beyond rose -the stately clumps of Synodune. - -Inside the porch rested the wayfarers; their beasts had been led to the -stables, and on a sort of hand-bier before them, resting on tressels, -lay the prostrate form of the victim of the prowess of Brian Fitz-Count. - -"Where didst thou find him?" asked the Abbot. - -"Near the spot on the downs where once holy Birinus preached the -Evangel." - -"And this dog?" - -"Was with him, wounded by teeth as the master by sword. It was his moans -and howls which attracted us." - -The Abbot bent over the prostrate form. - -"Has he spoken since you found him?" - -"No, my lord; only moans and gasps." - -"I see he is much hurt; I fear you have only brought him hither to die." - -"Houselled, anointed and annealed?" - -"If he recover his senses sufficiently." - -Just then a moan, louder than before, made them all start, then followed -a deep, hollow, articulate voice. - -"Where am I?" - -"At the Abbey of Dorchester." - -"Who brought me hither?" - -"Friends." - -He gazed wildly round, then sank with a deep groan back on the bier. - -"Take him to the infirmary, and on the morrow we will see him." - -A chance medley on the downs--a free fight between two who met by -chance--was so common, that the Abbot thought far less of the matter -than we may imagine. - -"Insooth, he is ghastly," he said, "but in the more need of our aid. I -trust we shall save both soul and body. Let the dog also have food and -shelter." - -But the dog would not leave his master's side, and they were forced to -move both into the same cell, where the poor beast kept licking the hand -which dropped pendent from the couch. - -"My lord Abbot, there are weightier matters to consider than the welfare -of one poor wounded wayfarer, who has fallen among thieves." - -"What are they?" - -"Didst thou mark the bale-fire on Synodune last night?" - -"We did, and marvelled what it could mean." - -"They were lighted all over the country: Lowbury, Highclere, White -Horse, Shirburne Beacon--all sent their boding flames heavenward." - -"What does it portend?" - -"There were rumours that Matilda, the Empress Queen, had landed -somewhere in the south." - -"Then we shall have civil war, and every man's hand will be against his -brother, which God forbid. Yet when Stephen seized our worthy Bishop in -his chamber, eating his dinner of pulse and water----" - -"Pheasant, washed down with malmsey, more likely," muttered a voice. - -The Abbot heard not, but continued-- - -"And shut him in a dungeon--the anointed of the Lord--and half starved -him----" - -"Making him fast for once, in earnest!" - -"Until he should deliver his castles of Newark and Sleaford----" - -"Pretty sheepfolds for a shepherd to keep!" - -"Such a king has little hold of his people; and it may be, God's just -judgments are impending over us. And what shall we do if we cannot save -the poor sheep committed to our charge; for be the one party or the -other victorious, the poor will have to suffer. Therefore, my dear -brethren, after Sext, we will hold a special chapter before we take our -meridiana" (noontide nap, necessitated when there was so much night -rising), "and consider what we had best do. Haste ye, my brother -Ambrose; take thy party to the cellarer, and get some light refreshment. -This is the day when he asks pardon of us all for his little -negligencies, and in return for the Miserere we sing in his name, we get -a better refection than usual. So do not spoil your appetites now. -Haste, and God be with you. The sacristan has gone to toll the bell for -Sext." - -FOOTNOTES: - -[9] "Quae urbs propter parvitatem Remigio displicebat."--JOHN OF -BROMPTON. - -[10] It consisted of the present nave, exclusive of the south aisle, and -extended some distance beyond the chancel arch, including the north -aisle as far as the present door. The cloister extended northward, -covering the small meadow which separates the manor-house grounds from -the church. The latter were probably the gardens of the abbey. - -[11] This true story is the foundation of _The Victor's Laurel_, a tale -of school life in Italy, by the same author. - -[12] Leland thus marks their site--three in all besides the abbey -church--one a little by south from the abbey, near the bridge; one more -south above it (nearer the Dyke); and "there was the 3 Paroch Chirch by -south-west" (towards Wittenham). - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -THE BARON AND HIS PRISONERS - - -When Brian Fitz-Count returned to his castle it was buried in the -silence and obscurity of night; only the sentinels were awake, and as -they heard his password, they hastened to unbar the massive gates, and -to undraw the heavy bolts, and turn the ponderous keys which gave -admittance to his sombre castle. - -The fatigue of a long day had made even the strong man weary, and he -said nought to any man, but sought his inner chamber, threw himself on -his pallet, and there the man of strife slept, for he had the soldier's -faculty of snatching a brief nap in the midst of perplexity and toil. - -In vain did the sentinels look for some key to the meaning of the -bale-fires, which had blazed all round; their lord was silent. "The -smiling morn tipped the hills with gold," and the _reveillee_ blew loud -and long; the busy tide of life began to flow within the walls; men -buckled on their armour, to try if every rivet were tight; tried the -edge of their swords, tested the points of their lances; ascended the -towers and looked all round for signs of a foe; discussed, wondered, -argued, quarrelled of course, but all without much result, until, at the -hour of _dejeuner_ (or breakfast), their dread lord appeared, and took -his usual place at the head of the table in the great hall. - -The meal--a substantial one of flesh, fish, and fowl, washed down by -ale, mead and wine--was eaten amid the subdued murmur of many voices, -and not till it was ended, and the Chaplain had returned thanks--for -such forms did Brian, for policy's sake, if for no better motive, always -observe--than he rose up to his full height and spoke-- - -"Knights and pages, men-at-arms all! I have good news for you! The -Empress--our rightful Queen--has landed in Sussex, and this very day I -go to meet her, and to aid in expelling the fell usurper Stephen. Who -will follow in my train?" - -Every hand was upraised, amidst a clamour of voices and cheers, for they -sniffed the battle afar, like the war-horse in Job, and delighted like -the vulture in the scent of blood. - -"It is well. I would sooner have ten free-hearted volunteers than a -hundred lagging retainers, grudgingly fulfilling their feudal -obligations. Let every man see to his horse, armour, sword, shield, and -lance, and at noontide we will depart." - -"At what time," asked the Chaplain, "shall we have the special Mass -said, to evoke God's blessing on our efforts to dethrone the tyrant, who -has dared to imprison our noble Bishop, Alexander?" - -"By all means a Mass, it will sharpen our swords: say at nine--a hunting -Mass, you know." (That is, a Mass reduced to the shortest proportions -the canons allowed.) - -When the household had dispersed, all save the chief officers who waited -to receive their lord's orders about the various matters committed -severally to their charge, Brian called one of them aside. - -"Malebouche, bid Coupe-gorge, the doomster, be ready with his minions in -the torture-chamber, and take thither the old man whom we caught in the -woods yestere'en. I will be present myself, and give orders what is to -be done, in half an hour." - -Malebouche departed on the errand, and Brian hastened to accomplish -various necessary tasks, ere the time to which he looked forward with -some interest arrived. It came at last, and he descended a circular -stone staircase in the interior of the north-west tower, which seemed -to lead into the bowels of the earth. - -Rather into a vaulted chamber, curiously furnished with divers chains -and pulleys, and hooks, and pincers, and other quaint instruments of -mediaeval cruelty. In one corner hung a thick curtain, which concealed -all behind from view. - -In the centre there was a heavy wooden table, and at the head a massive -rude chair, wherein the Baron seated himself. - -Before the table stood the prisoner--the aged Sexwulf--still preserving -his composure, and gazing with serene eye upon the fierce Baron--the -ruthless judge, in whose hands was his fate. - -Two lamps suspended from the roof shed a lurid light upon the scene. - -"Sexwulf, son of Thurkill, hearken, and thou, Malebouche, retire up the -stairs, and wait my orders on the landing above." - -"My lord, the tormentor is behind the curtain," whispered Malebouche, as -he departed. - -Brian nodded assent, but did not think fit to order the departure of the -doomster, whose horrible office made him familiar with too many secrets, -wrung from the miserable victims of his art, and who was, like a -confessor, pledged to inviolable secrecy. A grim confessor he! - -"Now, old man," said the Baron, "I am averse to wring the truth from the -stammering lips of age. Answer me, without concealment, the truth--the -whole truth!" - -"I have nought to conceal." - -"Whose son is the boy I found in thy care?" - -"My daughter's son." - -"Who was his father?" - -"Wulfnoth of Compton." - -"Now thou liest; his features proclaim him Norman." - -"He has no Norman blood." - -"And thou dost persist in this story?" - -"I have none other to tell." - -"Then I must make the tormentor find thee speech. What ho! Coupe-gorge!" - -The curtain was drawn back with a clang, and revealed the rack and a -brasier, containing pincers heated to a gray heat, and a man in leathern -jerkin with a pendent mask of black leather, with two holes cut therein -for the eyes, and two assistants similarly attired--one a black man, or -very swarthy Moor. - -The old man did not turn his head. - -"Look," said Brian. - -"Why should I look? I have told thee the very truth; I have nought to -alter in my story. If thou dost in thy cruelty misuse the power which -God has given thee, and rend me limb from limb, I shall soon be beyond -thy cruelty. But I can tell thee nought." - -"We will see," said Brian. "Place him on the rack!" - -"It needs not force," said the aged Englishman. "I will walk to thy bed -of pain," and he turned to do so. - -Again this calm courage turned Brian. - -"Man," he said, "thou wouldst not lie before to save thy life; nor now, -I am convinced, to save thy quivering flesh, if it does quiver. Tell me -what thou hast to tell, without being forced to do so." - -"I will. Thou didst once burn a house at Compton--the house of -Wulfnoth." - -"I remember it too well. The churl would not pay me tribute." - -"Tribute to whom tribute is due," muttered the aged one; then, aloud, -"One child escaped the flames, in which my daughter and her other poor -children perished. A few days afterwards the father, who had escaped, -brought me this child and bade me rear it, in ignorance of the fate of -kith and kin, while he entered upon the life of a hunted but destroying -wolf, slaying Normans." - -"And he said the boy was his own?" - -"And why should he not be? He has my poor daughter's features in some -measure, I have thought." - -"She must have been lovely, then," thought Brian, but only said-- - -"Tormentor, throw aside thy implements; they are for cowards. Old man, -ere thou ascend the stairs, know that thy life depends upon thy -grandson. Canst thou spare him to me?" - -"Have I any choice?" - -"Nay. But wilt thou bid him enter my service, and perchance win his -spurs?" - -"Not for worlds." - -"Why refuse so great an opening to fame?" - -"I would sooner far follow him to his grave! Thou wouldst destroy the -soul." - -"Fool! has he a soul? Have I or you got one? What is it? I do not know." -Then he repressed these dangerous words--dangerous to himself, even in -his stronghold. - -"Malebouche!" - -Malebouche appeared. - -"Take the grandsire away. Bring hither the boy." - -He waited in a state of intense but subdued feeling. - -The boy appeared at last--pale, not quite so free from apprehension as -his grandsire: how could any one expect a real boy, unless he were a -phenomenon, to enter a torture chamber as a prisoner without emotion? -What are all the switchings, birchings, and canings modern boys have -borne, compared with rack, pincer, and thumbscrew--to the hideous -sachentage, the scorching iron? The very enumeration makes the hair rise -in these days; only they are but a memory from the grim bad past now. - -"Osric, whose son art thou?" - -"The son of Wulfnoth." - -"And who was thy mother?" - -The boy flushed. - -"I know not--save that she is dead." - -"Does thy father live?" - -"I know not." - -"Art thou English or Norman?" - -"English." - -"Thou art not telling the truth." - -"Not the truth!" cried the boy, evidently surprised. - -"No, and I must force it from thee." - -"Force it from me!" stammered the poor lad. - -"Look!" - -Again the curtain opened, and the grisly sight met the eyes of Osric. He -winced, then seemed to make a great effort at self-control, and at last -spoke with tolerable calmness-- - -"My lord, I have nought to tell if thou pull me in pieces. What should I -hide, and why? I have done thee no harm; why shouldst thou wish to -torture me--a poor helpless boy, who never harmed thee?" - -The Baron gazed at him with a strange expression. - -"Thou knowest thou art in my hands, to do as I please with thee." - -"But God will protect or avenge me." - -"And this is all thou hast to say? Dost thou not fear the rack, the -flame?" - -"Who can help fearing it?" - -"Wouldst thou lie to escape it?" - -"No, God helping me. That is, I would do my best." - -The Baron drew a long breath. There was something in the youth which -fascinated him. He loved to hear him speak; he revelled in the tones of -his voice; he even liked to see the contest between his natural courage -and truthfulness and the sense of fear. But he could protract it no -longer, because it pained while it pleased. - -"Boy, wilt thou enter my service?" - -"I belong to my grandsire." - -"Wouldst thou not wish to be a knight?" - -"Nay, unless I could be a true knight." - -"What is that?" - -"One who keeps his vow to succour the oppressed, and never draw sword -save in the cause of God and right." - -Again the Baron winced. - -"Wilt thou be my page?" - -"No." - -Brian looked at him fixedly. - -"Thou must!" - -"Why?" - -"Thy life is forfeit to the laws; it is the only avenue of escape." - -"Then must I die." - -"Wouldst thou sooner die than follow me?" - -"I think so; I do not quite know." - -"And thy grandsire, too? Ye are both deer-stealers, and I have hanged -many such." - -"Oh, not my grandsire--not my poor grandfather!" and the boy knelt down, -and raised his hands joined in supplication. "Hang me, if thou wilt, but -spare him." - -"My boy, neither shalt hang, if thou wilt but hear me--be my page, and -he shall be free to return to his hut, with permission to kill one deer -per month, and smaller game as he pleases." - -"And if I will not promise?" - -"Thou must rot in a dungeon till my return, when I will promise thou -wilt be glad to get out at any price, and _he_ must hang to-day--and -thou wilt know thou art his executioner." - -The boy yielded. - -"I _must_ give way. Oh! must I be thy page?" - -"Yes, foolish boy--a good thing for thee, too." - -"If I must, I will--but only to save his life. God forgive me!" - -"God forgive thee? For what?" - -"For becoming a Norman!" - -"Malebouche!" called Brian. - -The seneschal descended. - -"Take this youth to the wardrobe, and fit him with a page's suit; he -rides with me to-day. Feed the old man, and set him free." - -He sent for Alain, the chief and leader amongst his pages--a sort of -cock of the walk. - -"Alain, that English boy we found in the woods rides with us to-day. -Mark me, neither tease, nor bully him thyself, nor allow thy fellows to -do so. Thou knowest that I will be obeyed." - -"My lord," said the lad, "I will do my best. What is the name of our new -companion?" - -"'Fitz-urse'--that is enough." - -"I should say Fitz-daim," muttered the youngster, as soon as he was -outside. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE LEPERS - - -The scene was the bank of a large desolate pond or small lake in -Northamptonshire. It was on high table-land, for the distant country -might be seen through openings in the pine-trees on every side: here and -there a church tower, here and there a castle or embattled dwelling; -here and there a poverty-stricken assemblage of huts, clustering -together for protection. In the south extended the valley of the -Cherwell, towards the distant Thames; on the west the high table-land of -North Oxfordshire sank down into the valley of the Avon and Severn. - -It was a cold windy autumnal morning, the ground yet crisp from an early -frost, the leaves hung shivering on the trees, waiting for the first -bleak blast of the winter wind to fetch them down to rot with their -fellows. - -On the edge of a pond stood two youths of some fifteen and thirteen -years. They had divested themselves of their upper garments--thick warm -tunics--and gazed into the water, here deep, dark, and slimy. There was -a look of fixed resolution, combined with hopeless despair, in their -faces, which marked the would-be suicides. - -They raised their pale faces, their eyes swollen with tears, to heaven. - -"O God," said the elder one, "and ye, ye Saints--if Saints there -be--take the life I can bear no longer: better trust to your mercies -than those of man--better Purgatory, nay, Hell, than earth. Come, -Richard, the rope!" - -The younger one was pale as death, but as resolved as the elder. He -took up a rope, which he had thrown upon the grass, and gave it -mechanically, with hands that yet trembled, to his brother. - -"One kiss, Evroult--the last!" - -They embraced each other fervently. - -"Let us commend ourselves to God; He will not be hard upon us, if He is -as good as the Chaplain says--He knows it all." - -And they wound the rope around them, so as to bind both together. - -"We shall not be able to change our minds, even if the water be cold, -and drowning hard." - -The younger shivered, but did not falter in his resolution. What mental -suffering he must have gone through; for the young naturally cling to -life. - -But the dread secret was all too visible. - -From the younger boy two fingers had fallen off--rotted away with the -disease. The elder had a covering over the cheek, a patch, for the -leprosy had eaten through it. There was none of the spring and gladness -of childhood or youth in either; they carried the tokens of decay with -them. They had the sentence of physical death in themselves. - -Now they stood tottering on the brink. The wind sighed hoarsely around -them; a raven gave an ominous croak-croak, and flew flapping in the air. -One moment--and they leapt together. - -There was a great splash. - -Was all over? - -No; one had seen them, and had guessed their intent, and now arrived -panting and breathless on the brink, with a long rope, terminated by a -large iron hook, in his hand. Behind him came a second individual in a -black cassock, but he had girded up his loins to run the better. - -The man threw the rope just as the bodies rose to the surface--it missed -and they disappeared once more. He watched--a moment of suspense--again -they rose; he threw once more. Would the hook catch? Yes; it is -entangled in the cord with which they have bound themselves, and they -are saved! It is an easy task now to draw them to the land. - -"My children! my children!" said the Chaplain, "why have ye attempted -self-murder; to rush unsummoned into the presence of your Judge? Had we -not been here ye had gone straight to eternal misery." - -The boys struggled on the shore, but the taste of the cold water had -tamed them. The sense of suffocation was yet upon them; they could not -speak, but their immersion was too brief to have done them much harm, -and after a few minutes they were able to walk. No other words were -said, and their rescuers led them towards a low building of stone. - -It was a building of great extent--a quadrangle enclosing half an acre, -with an inner cloister running all round. In the centre rose a simple -chapel of stern Norman architecture; opening upon the cloister were -alternate doors and unglazed windows, generally closed by shutters, in -the centre of which was a thin plate of horn, so that when the weather -necessitated their use, the interiors might not be quite destitute of -light. On one side of the square was the dining-hall, on the other the -common room; these had rude cavernous chimneys, and fires were kindled -on the hearths; there was no upper story. In each of the smaller -chambers was a central table and three or four rough wooden bedsteads. - -In the cloisters were scores of hapless beings, men and boys, some -lounging about, some engaged in games now long forgotten; some talking -and gesticulating loudly. All races which were found in England had -their representatives--the Norman, the Saxon, the Celt. - -It was the recreation hour, for they were not left in idleness through -the day; the community was mainly self-supporting. Men wrought at their -own trades, made their own clothes and shoes, baked their own bread, -brewed their own beer, worked in the fields and gardens within the -outer enclosure. The charity of the outside world did the rest, upon -condition that the lepers never strayed beyond their precincts to infect -the outer world of health. - -The Chaplain, himself also enclosed, belonged to an order of brethren -who had devoted themselves to this special work throughout Europe--they -nearly always took the disease.[13] Father Ambrose quite understood, -when he entered upon his self-imposed task, that he would probably die -of the disease himself, but neither priests, physicians, nor sisters -were ever wanting to fulfil the law of Christ in ministering to their -suffering brethren, remembering His words: "Inasmuch as ye have done it -to the least of these My brethren, ye have done it unto Me." - -The day was duly divided: there was the morning Mass, the service of -each of the "day hours" in the chapel, the hours of each meal, the time -of recreation, the time of work; all was fixed and appointed in due -rotation, and could the poor sufferers only have forgotten the world, -and resigned themselves to their sad fate, they were no worse off than -the monks in many a monastery. - -But the hideous form of the disease was always there; here an arm in a -sling, to hide the fact the hand was gone; here a footless man, here an -eyeless one; here a noseless one, there another--like poor Evroult--with -holes through the cheek; here the flesh livid with red spots or circles -enclosing patches white as snow--so they carried the marks of the most -hideous disease of former days. - -Generally they were the objects of pity, but also of abhorrence and -dread. The reader will hardly believe that in France, in the year 1341, -the lepers were actually burnt alive throughout the land, in the false -plea that they poisoned the waters, really in the cruel hope to stamp -out the disease.[14] - -Outside the walls were all the outhouses, workshops, and detached -buildings, also an infirmary for the worst cases; within the enclosure -also the last sad home when the fell destroyer had completed his -work--the graveyard, God's acre; and in the centre rose a huge plain -cross, with the word PAX on the steps. - -It was a law of the place that no one who entered on any pretence might -leave it again: people did not believe in cures; leprosy was -incurable--at least save by a miracle, as when the Saviour trod this -weary world. - -The Chaplain took the poor boys to his own chamber, a little room above -the porch of the chapel, containing a bed, over which hung the crucifix, -a chair, a table, and a few MS. books, a gospel, an epistle, a -prophetical book, the offices, church services; little more. - -He made them sit in the embrasure of the window, he did not let them -speak until he had given each a cup of hot wine, they sat sobbing there -a long time, he let nature have its way. At length the time came and he -spoke. - -"Evroult, my dear child, Richard, how could you attempt self-murder? -Know you not that your lives are God's, and that you may not lay them -down at your own pleasure." - -"Oh, father, why did you save us? It would have been all over now." - -"And where would you have been?" - -The boy shuddered. The teaching about Hell, and the horrors of the -state of the wicked dead, was far too literal and even coarsely -material, at that time, for any one to escape its influence. - -"Better a thousand times to be here, only bear up till God releases you, -and He will make up for all this. You will not think of the billows past -when you gain the shore." - -"But, father, anything is better than this--these horrid sights, these -dreadful faces, and my father a baron." - -"Thou art saved many sins," said and felt the priest; "war is a dreadful -thing, strife and bloodshed would have been thy lot." - -"But I loved to hunt, to _fight_; I long to be a man, a knight, to win a -name in the world, to win my spurs. Oh, what shall I do, how can I bear -this?" - -"And do _you_ feel like this, Richard," said the priest, addressing the -younger boy. - -"Indeed I do, how can I help it? Oh, the green woods, the baying of the -hounds, the delightful gallop, the sweet, fresh air of our Berkshire -downs, the hall on winter nights, the gleemen and their songs, their -stories of noble deeds of prowess, the----" - -"And the tilt-yard, the sword and the lance, the tournament, the -_melee_," added the other. - -"And Evroult, so brave and expert; oh what a knight thou wouldst have -made, my brother." - -"And our father loved to see us wrestle and fight, and ride, and jump, -and called us his brave boys; and our mother was proud of us--oh, how -can we bear the loss of all?" - -What could be said: nature was too strong, the instincts of generations -were in the boys, the blood of the sea-kings of old ran in their veins. - -"Oh, can you not help us? we know you are kind; shall we never get out? -is there no hope?" - -The tears streamed down the venerable man's cheeks. - -"We know you love us or you would not be here; they say you came of your -own accord." - -He glanced at a glowing circle of red on his right hand, encircling a -spot of leprous flesh as white as snow. - -"Ah, my dear boys," he said, "I had your feelings once; nay, I was a -knight too, and had wife and children." - -"Do they live?" - -"Yes, but not here; a neighbour, Robert de Belesme, you may have heard -of him----" - -"As a cruel monster, a wicked knight." - -"Stormed my castle in my absence, and burnt it with all therein." - -"And did you not avenge them?" - -"I was striving to do so, when the hand of God was laid upon me, and I -woke from a burning fever to learn that He has said, 'Vengeance is Mine, -I will repay.'" - -"And then?" - -"I came here." - -"Poor Father Ambrose," said Richard. - -"If I could get out _I_ would try to avenge him," said Evroult. - -"The murderer has gone before his Judge; leave it," said the priest; -"there the hidden things shall be made clear, my boys, _noblesse -oblige_, the sons of a baron should keep their word." - -"Have we ever broken it?" - -"Not so far as I am aware, and I am sure you will not now." - -"What are we to promise?" - -"Promise me you will not strive to destroy yourselves again." - -They looked at each other. - -"It is cowardly, unworthy of gentlemen." - -"_Cowardly!_" and the hot blood rose in their faces. - -"Base cowardice." - -"None ever called me coward before; but you are a priest." - -"My children, will you not promise? Then you shall not be confined as -you otherwise must be----" - -"Let them confine us; we can dash our heads against the walls!" - -"For my sake, then; they hurt me when they hurt you." - -They paused, looked at each other, and sighed. - -"Yes, Evroult?" said Richard. - -"Yes, be it then, father; we promise." - -But there was another thought in Evroult's mind which he did not reveal. - -The bell then rang for chapel, but we fear the boys did not take more -than their bodies there; and when they were alone in their own little -chamber--for they were treated with special distinction (their father -"subscribed liberally to the charity")--the hidden purpose came out. - -"Richard," said Evroult, "we must escape." - -"What shall we do? where can we go?" - -"To Wallingford." - -"But our father will slay us." - -"Not he; he loves us too well. We shall recover then. Old Bartimoeus -here told me many do recover when they get away, and live, as some do, -in the woods. It is all infection _here_; besides, I _must_ see our -mother again, if it is only once more--MUST see her, I long for her so." - -"But do you not know that the country people would slay us." - -"They are too afraid of the disease to seize us." - -"But they keep big dogs--mastiffs, and would hunt us if they knew we -were outside." - -"We must escape in the night." - -"The gates are barred and watched." - -"A chance will come some evening, at the last hour of recreation before -dark, we will hide in the bushes, and as soon as the others go in make -for the wall; we can easily get over; now, Richard, are you willing?" - -"Yes," said the younger, who always looked up to his elder brother with -great belief, "I am willing, but do not make the attempt yet; let us -wait a day or two; we are watched and suspected now." - -FOOTNOTES: - -[13] The disease of leprosy has been deemed incurable, and so -practically it was; but it was long before it proved fatal; it -ordinarily ran its course in a period not less than ten, nor exceeding -twenty, years. - -The first symptoms were not unlike those of malarious disease; perhaps -leprosy was not so much contagious as endemic, bred of foul waters, or -the absence of drainage, or nourished in stagnant marshes; but all men -deemed it highly contagious. - -The distinctive symptoms which next appeared were commonly reddish spots -on the limbs; these by degrees extended, until, becoming white as snow -in the centre, they resembled rings; then the interior became ulcerous, -and as the ulcer ate into the flesh, the latter presented the tuberous -or honey-combed appearance which led to the disease being called -_leprosa tuberosa_. Especially did the disease affect the joints of the -fingers, the wrists, and the elbows; and limbs would sometimes fall -away--or "slough off," as it is technically called. - -By degrees it spread inward, and attacking the vital organs, -particularly the digestive functions, the sufferer died, not so much -from the primary as from the secondary effects of the disease--from -exhaustion and weakness. - -[14] _Chronicle of St. Evroult_ in loco. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE NEW NOVICE - - -It was the day of St. Calixtus, the day on which, seventy-three years -earlier in the history of England, the Normans had stormed the heights -of Senlac, and the brave Harold had bitten the dust in the agonies of -death with the despairing cry, "Alas for England." - -Of course it was ever a high day with the conquering race, that -fourteenth of October, and the reader will not be surprised that it was -observed with due observance at Dorchester Abbey, and that special -thanksgiving for the victory was offered at the chapter Mass, which took -place at nine of the clock. - -Abbot Alured had just divested himself of the gorgeous vestments, in -which he had officiated at the high altar, when the infirmarer craved an -audience--it was granted. - -"The wounded guest has partially recovered, his fever has abated, his -senses have returned, and he seems anxious to see thee." - -"Why does he wish to see me particularly?" - -"Because he has some secret to communicate." - -"And why not to thee?" - -"I know not, save that he knows that thou art our father." - -"Dost think he will ever fight again?" - -"He will lay lance in rest no more in this world." - -"Nor in the next either, I presume, brother. I will arise and see him." - -Passing through the cloister--which was full of the hum of boys, like -busy bees, learning their tasks--and ascending a flight of steps to the -"_dorture_," the Abbot followed the infirmarer to a pleasant and airy -cell, full of the morning sunlight, which streamed through the panes of -thin membrane--such as frequently took the place of glass. - -There on a couch lay extended the form of the victim of the prowess of -Brian Fitz-Count, his giant limbs composed beneath the coverlet, his -face seamed with many a wrinkle and furrow, and marked with deep lines -of care, his eyes restless and wandering. - -"Thou hast craved to speak with me, my son," said Abbot Alured. - -"Alone," was the reply, in a deep hoarse voice. - -"My brother, leave us till I touch the bell," said the Abbot, pointing -to a small handbell which stood on the table. - -The infirmarer departed. - -"And now, my son, what hast thou to tell me? First, who art thou? and -whence?" - -"I am in sanctuary here, and none can drag me hence; is it not so?" - -"It is, my son, unless thou hast committed such crime as sacrilege, -which God forbid." - -"Such crime can none lay to my charge. Tell me, father, dost thou think -it wrong for a man to slay those who have deprived him of his loved -ones, of all that made life worth living?" - -"'Vengeance is Mine,' saith God." - -"Well, I took mine into my own hand, and now my task is ended. I am -assured that I am a cripple, never to strike a fair blow again." - -"The more time for repentance, the better for thy soul. Thou hast not -yet told me thy name and home?" - -"I tell it thee in confidence, for thou wilt not betray me to mine -enemy." - -"Not unless justice should demand it." - -"Well, I will tell thee my tale first. I was a husband and a father, -and a happy one, living in a home on the downs. In consequence of some -paltry dispute about black-mail or feudal dues, Brian Fitz-Count sent -men who burnt my house in my absence, and my wife and children perished -in the flames." - -"All!" - -"Yes, I found not one alive, so I took to the life of a hunted wolf, -rending and destroying, and slew many foreigners, for I am Wulfnoth of -Compton; now I have told thee all." - -"God's mercy is infinite, thy provocation was indeed great. I judge thee -not, poor man. I never had wife or child, but I can guess how they feel -who have had and lost them. My brother, thine has been a sad life, thy -misery perhaps justified, at least, excused thy life as a leader of -outlaws; I, who am a man in whose veins flows the blood of both races, -can feel for thee, and pardon thy errors." - -"Errors! to avenge her and them." - -"The Saviour forgave His murderers, and left us an example that we -should follow His steps. Listen, my brother, thou must live for -repentance, and to learn submission to God's will; tell thy secret to no -man, lest thy foe seek thee even here, and trouble our poor house." - -"But I hoped to have seen him bite the dust." - -"And God has denied thee the boon; he is a man of strife and blood, and -no well-wisher to Holy Church; he seldom hears a Mass, never is shriven, -at least, so I have been told in confidence, for in this neighbourhood -men speak with bated breath of Brian Fitz-Count, at least within sight -of the tall tower of his keep. We will leave him to God. He is a most -unhappy man; his children are lepers." - -"No, at least not _one_." - -"So I have heard; they are in the great Leper House at Byfield, poor -boys; my cousin is the Chaplain there." - -"And now, father, I will tell thee more. Thou knowest I have been -delirious, yet my senses have been awake to other scenes than these. -Methought my dear wife came to me in my delirium, came to my bedside, -sat in that seat, bathed my fevered brow, nay, it was no dream, her -blest spirit was allowed to resume the semblance of throbbing flesh, and -there she sat, where thou sittest now." - -The Abbot of course saw in this only a phase of delirium, but he said -nought; it was at least better than visions of imps and goblins. - -"Alas, dear one," continued he, as in a soliloquy, "hadst thou lived, I -had not made this life one savage hunting scene, caring only to rush in, -knock down, and drag out the prey, and now I am unfit to be where thou -art, and may never meet thee again." - -"My brother," said the sympathising Alured, "thou believest her to be in -Paradise?" - -"I do, indeed; I know they are there." - -"And thou wouldst fain meet them?" - -"I would." - -"Repent then, confess, thou shall be loosed from thy sins; and since -thou art unfitted for the active walks of life, take upon thee the vows -of religion." - -"May I? what order would admit me?" - -"We will; and thus strive to restore thee to thy dear ones again." - -"And Brian Fitz-Count will escape?" - -"Leave him to God." - -"Well, I will; doubtless he will die and be damned, and we shall never -see him; Heaven would not be Heaven if he were there." - -The Abbot sighed. - -"Ah, brother, thou hast much yet to learn ere thou becomest a true -follower of Him, Who at the moment of His supremest agony prayed for His -murderers." - -But the patient could bear no more, hot tears were streaming down his -cheeks. - -"Brother, peace be with thee, from the Lord of peace, all good Saints -aid thee; say nought of this to any one but me and thou wilt be safe." - -He touched the bell, the infirmarer came in. - -"God hath touched his heart, he will join our order; as soon as possible -he shall take the vows of a novice and assume our garb, then neither -Brian Fitz-Count nor any other potentate, not the king himself, can drag -him forth." - -The last words were uttered in a sort of soliloquy, the infirmarer, for -whom they were not meant, did not catch them. - - * * * * * - -And so the days sped on towards the Feast of All Saints, darkening days -and long nights too, often reddened by the light of distant -conflagrations, for that terrible period of civil strife--nay, of worse -than civil strife--was approaching, when, instead of there being only -two parties in the land, each castle was to become its own centre of -strife--declaring war upon all its neighbours; when men should fear to -till the land for others to reap; when every man's hand should be -against every man; when men should fill their strongholds with human -devils, and torture for torture sake, when there was no longer wealth to -exact; when men should say that God and His Saints were asleep--to such -foul misery and distress did the usurpation of Stephen bring the land. - -But those days were only beginning, as yet the tidings reached -Dorchester slowly that the Empress was the guest of her mother-in-law, -the Queen-Dowager, the widow of Henry the First, at Arundel Castle, in -Sussex, under the protection of only a hundred and forty horsemen; then, -that Robert, Earl of Gloucester, leaving his sister in comparative -safety, had proceeded through the hostile country to Bristol with only -twelve horsemen, until he was joined midway on his journey by Brian -Fitz-Count and his troop from Wallingford Castle; next, that Henry, -Bishop of Winchester, and brother of the king, had declared for her, -and brought her in triumph to Bristol. Lastly, that she had been -conducted by her old friend, Milo, Sheriff of Gloucester, in triumph to -that city, and there received the allegiance of the citizens. - -Meanwhile, the storm of fire and sword had begun; wicked men took -advantage at once of the divided state of the realm, and the eclipse of -the royal authority. - -They heard at Dorchester that Robert Fitz-Hubert, a savage baron, or -rather barbarian, had clandestinely entered the city of Malmesbury and -burnt it to the ground, so that divers of the wretched inhabitants -perished in the flames, of which the barbarian boasted as though he had -obtained a great triumph, declaring himself on the side of the Empress -Queen; and, further, that King Stephen, hearing of the deed, had come -after him, put him to flight, and retaken Malmesbury Castle. - -So affairs progressed up to the end of October. - - ---- - -It was All Saints' Day, and they held high service at Dorchester Abbey; -the Chant of William of Fescamp was introduced, without any of the dire -consequences which followed it at Glastonbury. - -It was a day never to be forgotten by our reclaimed outlaw, Wulfnoth of -Compton, he was that day admitted to the novitiate, and received the -tonsure; dire had been the conflict in his mind; again and again the old -Adam waxed strong within him, and he longed to take advantage, like -others, of the political disturbances, in the hope of avenging his own -personal wrongs; then the sweet teachings of the Gospel softened his -heart, and again and again his dear ones seemed in his dreams to visit -him, and bid him prepare for that haven of peace into which they had -entered. - -"God hath done all things well," the sweet visitants of his dreams -seemed to say; "let the past be the past, and let not its black shadow -darken the glorious future--the parting was terrible, the meeting shall -be the sweeter." - -The ceremony was over, Wulfnoth of Compton had become the Novice -Alphege of Dorchester, for, in accordance with custom, he had changed -his name on taking the vows. - -After the long ceremony was over, he sat long in the church undisturbed, -a sensation of sweet peace came upon him, of rest at last found, the -throbbing heart seemed quiet, the stormy passions stilled. - -And now, too, he no longer needed the protection of carnal weapons, he -was safe in the immunities of the church, none could drag him from the -cloister--he belonged to God. - -What a refuge the monastic life afforded then! Without it men would have -been divided between beasts of burden and beasts of prey. - -And when at last he took possession of his cell, through the narrow -window he could see Synodune rising over the Thames; it was a glorious -day, the last kiss of summer, when the "winter wind was as yet -suspended, although the fading foliage hung resigned." - -Peace ineffable filled his mind. - -The hills of Synodune for one moment caught his gaze, they had been -familiar landmarks in his days of war, rapine, and vengeance, the past -rose to his mind, but he longed not after it now. - -But was the old Adam dead or only slumbering? We shall see. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -OSRIC'S FIRST RIDE - - -Amidst a scene of great excitement, the party of Brian Fitz-Count left -Wallingford Castle, a hundred men, all armed to the teeth, being chosen -to accompany him, while at least five hundred were left behind, capable -of bearing arms, charged with the defence of the Castle, with orders, -that at least two hundred of their number should repair to a rendezvous, -when the progress of events should require their presence, and enable -the Baron to fix the place of meeting by means of a messenger. - -The day was--as it will be remembered--the second of October, in the -year 1139; the season was late, that is, summer was loth to depart, and -the weather was warm and balmy. The wild cheers of their companions, who -envied them their lot, contrasted with the sombre faces of the -townsfolk, foreboding evil in this new departure. - -By the Baron's side rode Milo of Gloucester, and they engaged in deep -conversation. - -Our young friend Osric was committed to the care of the senior page -Alain, who anticipated much sportive pleasure in catechising and -instructing his young companion--such a novice in the art of war. - -And it may be added in equitation, for we need not say old Sexwulf kept -no horses, and Osric had much ado to ride, not gracefully, but so as to -avoid the jeers and laughter of his companions. - -The young reader, who remembers his own first essay in horsemanship, -will appreciate poor Osric's difficulty, and will easily picture the -suppressed, hardly suppressed, laughter of Alain, at each uneasy jolt. -However, Osric was a youth of good sense, and instead of turning red, or -seeming annoyed, laughed heartily too at himself. His spirits were -light, and he soon shook off the depression of the morning under the -influence of the fresh air and smiling landscape, for the tears of youth -are happily--like an April shower--soon followed by sunshine. - -They rode across Cholsey common, then a wide meadowed space, stretching -from Wallingford to the foot of the downs; they left the -newly-_restored_ or rather _rebuilt_ Church of St. Mary's of Cholsey on -their right, around which, at that time, clustered nearly all the houses -of the village, mainly built upon the rising ground to the north of the -church, avoiding the swampy common.[15] - -Farther on to the left, across the clear and sparkling brook, they saw -the burnt and blackened ruins of the former monastery, founded by -Ethelred "the unready," in atonement for the murder of his half-brother, -Edward the Martyr, and burnt in the same terrible inroad; one more mile -brought them to the source of the Cholsey brook, which bubbled up from -the earth amidst a thicket of trees at the foot of a spur of the downs. - -Here they all stopped to drink, for the spring was famous, and had -reputed medicinal properties, and, in sooth, the water was pleasant to -the taste of man and beast. - -A little beyond was a moated grange belonging to the Abbot of Reading, a -pleasant summer residence in peaceful times; but the days were coming -when men should avoid lonely country habitations; there were a few -invalid monks there, they came forth and gazed upon the party, then -shook their tonsured heads as the burgesses of Wallingford had done. - -Another mile, and they began to ascend the downs, where, according to -tradition, the battle of Aescendune had been fought, in the year of -grace, 871. Arriving at the summit, they looked back at the view: -Wallingford, the town and churches, dominated by the high tower of the -keep, was still in full view, and, beyond, the wavy line of the -Chilterns stretched into the misty distance, as described in the preface -to our tale. - -But most interesting to Osric was the maze of woodland which filled the -country about Aston (East-tun) and Blewbery (Blidberia), for there lay -the hut of his grandfather; and the tears rose to the affectionate lad's -eyes at the thought of the old man's future loneliness, with none but -poor old Judith to console him for the loss of his boy. - -Before them rose Lowbury Hill--dominated then by a watch-tower--which -they ascended and stood on the highest summit of the eastern division of -the Berkshire downs; before them on the south rose the mountainous range -of Highclere, and a thin line of smoke still ascended from the bale-fire -on the highest point. - -Here a horseman was seen approaching, and when he came near enough, a -knight, armed _cap-a-pie_, was disclosed. - -"Friend or foe?" said Alain to his companion. - -"If a foe, I pity him." - -"See, the Baron rides forth alone to meet him!" - -They met about a furlong from the party; entered into long and amicable -conference, and soon returned to the group on the hill; the order -brought news which changed their course, they turned to the west, and -instead of riding for Sussex, followed the track of the Icknield Street -for Devizes and the west. - -This brought them across the scene of the midnight encounter, and -Alain's quick eyes soon detected the traces of the combat. - -"Look, there has been a fight here--see how the ground is trampled, and -here is a broken sword--ah! the ground is soaked with blood--there has -been a gallant tussle here--would I had seen it." - -Osric was not yet so enthusiastic in the love of strife. - -Alain's exclamations brought several of the riders around him; and they -scrutinised the ground closely, and they speculated on the subject. - -The Baron smiled grimly, and thought-- - -"What has become of the corpse?" for he doubted not he had fed fat his -ancient grudge, and slain his foe. - -"Look in yon thicket for the body," he cried. - -They looked, but as our readers anticipate, found nought. - -The Baron wondered, and said a few confidential words to his friend -Milo, which none around heard. - -Shortly afterwards their route led them by Cwichelm's Hlawe, described -before; the Baron halted his party; and then summoning Osric to attend -him, rode into the thicket. - -The reputed witch stood at the door of her cell. - -"So thou art on thy way to battle; the dogs of war are unslipped." - -"Even so, but dost thou know this boy?" - -"Old Sexwulf's grandson, down in the woods; so thou hast got him, ha! -ha! he is in good hands, ha! ha!" - -"What means thy laughter, like the noise of an old croaking crow?" - -"Because thou hast caught him, and the decrees of fate are about to be -accomplished." - -"Retire, Osric, and join the rest." - -"Now, mother, tell me what thou dost mean?" - -"That thy conjunction with this youth bodes thee and thine little -good--the stars have told me that much." - -"Why, what harm can he do _me_, a mere boy?" - -"The free people of old taught their children to sing, 'Tremble, -tyrants; we shall grow up.'" - -"If he proved false, a blow would rid me of so frail an encumbrance." - -"Which thou mightest hesitate to strike." - -"Tell me why; I thought he might be my stolen child, but the lips of old -Sexwulf speak truth, and he swears the lad is his grandson." - -"It is a wise grandfather who knows his own grandson." - -"Thou knowest many things; the boy is so like my poor----" he hesitated, -and suppressed a name; "that, hard as my heart is, he has softened it: -his voice, his manner, his gestures, tell me----" - -"I cannot as yet." - -"Dost thou know?" - -"Only that old Sexwulf would not wilfully deceive." - -"And is that all thou hast to say?" - -"No, wait, keep the boy near thee, thou shalt know in time; thy men are -calling for thee--hark thee, Sir Brian, the men of Donnington are out." - -"That for them," and the Baron snapped his fingers. - -When he rejoined his troop, he found them in a state of great -excitement, which was explained when they pointed to moving objects some -two or three miles away on the downs; the quick eye of the Baron -immediately saw that it was a troop which equalled his own in numbers. - -"The witch spoke the truth," he said; and eager as a war-horse sniffing -the fray afar, he gave the word to ride towards the distant party, which -rapidly rose and became distinct to the sight. - -"I see their pennons, they are the men of Donnington, and their lord is -for King Stephen; now, my men, to redden our bright swords. Osric, thou -art new to all this--Alain, thou art young--stay behind on that mound, -and join us when we have done our work." - -Poor Alain looked grievously hurt. - -"My lord!" - -"Well?" - -"Do let me share the fight!" - -"Thou wilt be killed." - -"I will take my chance." - -"And Osric?" - -"I am not afraid, my lord," said Osric. - -"But thou canst hardly ride, nor knowest not yet the use of lance and -sword; here, old Raoul, stay with this lad." - -"My lord!" - -"And thou, too; well, boy, wilt thou pledge me thy word not (he lowered -his voice) to attempt to escape?" - -He marked a slight hesitation. - -"Remember thy grandfather." - -"My lord, I will do as thou biddest--stay where thou shalt bid me, or -ride with thee." - -"Stay on the crest of yonder hill." - -All this time they had been riding forward, and now the enemy was within -hearing. - -Both parties paused. - -Brian rode forward. - -A knight on the other side did the same. - -"For God and the Empress," said the former. - -"For God and the King," cried the latter. - -Instantly the two charged, and their followers waited to see the result: -the lance of the King's man broke; that of Sir Brian held firm, and -coming full on the breast, unhorsed the other, who fell heavily prone, -on his head, like one who, as old Homer hath it, "seeketh oysters in the -fishy sea." - -The others waited no longer, but eager on either side to share their -leader's fortunes, charged too. Oh, the awful shock as spear met spear; -oh, the crash, the noise, the wild shouts, the splintering of lances, -then the ringing of swords upon armour; the horses caught the enthusiasm -of the moment and bit each other, and struck out with their fore-legs: -it was grand, at least so they said in that iron age. - -But it was soon decided--fortune kept steadfast to her first -inclinations--the troops fared as their leaders had fared--and those -who were left alive of the Donnington men were soon riding southward for -bare life. - -Brian ordered the trumpeter to recall his men from the pursuit. - -"Let them go--I have their leader--he at least shall pay ransom; they -have been good company, and we feel sorry to see them go." - -The poor leader, Sir Hubert of Donnington, the eldest son of the lord of -that ilk, was lifted, half-stunned, upon a horse behind another rider, -while Brian remembered Osric. - -What had been the feelings of the latter? - -Did the reader ever meet that story in St. Augustine's Confessions, of a -young Christian taken against his will to see the bloody sports of the -amphitheatre. His companions dragged him thither, he said they might -have his body, but he shut his eyes and stopped his ears until a louder -shout than usual pierced through the auricular protection--one moment of -curiosity, he opened his eyes, he saw the victor thrust the trident into -the palpitating body of the vanquished, the demon of blood-thirstiness -seized him, he shouted too, and afterwards sought those cruel scenes -from choice, until the grace of God stopped him. - -So now with our Osric. - -He felt no desire at first to join the _melee_, indeed, he knew how -helpless he was; but as he gazed a strange, wild longing came over him, -he felt inclined, nay, could hardly restrain himself from rushing in; -but his promise to stay on the hill prevailed over him: perhaps it was -hereditary inclination. - -But after all was over, he saw Alain wiping his bloody sword as he -laughed with savage glee. - -"Look, Osric, I killed one--see the blood." - -Instead of being shocked, as a good boy should have been, Osric envied -him, and determined to spend all the time he possibly could in mastering -the art of jousting and fencing. - -They now rode on, leaving twenty of their own dead on the plain, and -forty of the enemy; but, as Napoleon afterwards said--"You cannot make -an omelette without breaking eggs." - -And now, alas, the eggs were human lives--men made in the image of -God--too little accounted of in those days. - -They now passed Letcombe Castle,--a huge circular camp with trench and -vallum, capable of containing an army; it was of the old British times, -and the mediaeval warriors grimly surveyed this relic of primaeval war. -Below there lay the town of Wantage,--then strongly walled around,--the -birthplace of Alfred. Three more miles brought them to the Blowing -Stone, above Kingston Lisle, another relic of hoar antiquity; and Alain, -who had been there before, amused Osric by producing that deep hollow -roar, which in earlier days had served to alarm the neighbourhood, as he -blew into the cavity. - -Now the ridgeway bore straight to the highest summit of the whole -range,--the White Horse Hill,--and here they all dismounted, and -tethering their horses, prepared to refresh man and beast. Poor Osric -was terribly sore and stiff, and could not even walk gracefully; he was -still able to join Alain in his laughter, but with less grace than at -first. - -But we must cut this chapter short; suffice it to say, that after a -brief halt they resumed their route; camped that night under the shelter -of a clump of trees on the downs, and the next day, at Devizes, effected -a junction with the troops of Earl Robert of Gloucester, who, having -left his sister safe in Arundel Castle, was on his way to secure -Bristol, attended by only twelve horsemen. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[15] It was a cruciform structure, a huge tower on the intersection of -the arms of the cross, the present chancel was not then in existence, a -smaller sanctuary of Norman architecture supplied its place. The old -church had been destroyed with the village in that Danish invasion of -which we have told in the tale of _Alfgar the Dane_, which took place in -1006, and the place had lain waste till the manor was given to Reading -Abbey, under whose fostering influence it had risen from its ashes. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -THE HERMITAGE - - -For many days Evroult and Richard, the sons--unhappy, leprous sons--of -Brian Fitz-Count, bore their sad lot with apparent patience in the -lazar-house of Byfield; but their minds were determined, come weal or -woe, they would endeavour to escape. - -"Where there is a will," says an old proverb, "there is a way,"--the -chance Evroult had spoken of soon came. - -It was the hour of evening recreation, and in the spacious grounds -attached to the lazar-house, the lepers were walking listlessly around -the well-trodden paths, in all stages of leprous deformity; it was -curious to note how differently it affected different people; some -walked downcast, their eyes on the ground, studiously concealing their -ghastly wounds; some in a state of semi-idiotcy--no uncommon -result--"moped and mowed"; some, in hopeless despair, sighed and -groaned; and one cried "Lost, lost," as he wrung his hands. - -There were keepers here and there amongst them, too often lepers -themselves. The Chaplain, too, was there, endeavouring to administer -peripatetic consolation first to one, then to another. - -"Well, Richard, well, Evroult, my boys, how are you to-day?" - -"As well as we ever shall be here." - -"I want to get out of this place." - -"And I." - -"Oh will you not get us out? Can you not speak to the governor? see, we -are _nearly_ well." Then Richard looked at his hand, where two fingers -were missing, and sobbed aloud. - -"It is no use, my dear boys, to dash yourselves against the bars of your -cage, like poor silly birds; I fear the time of release will never come, -till death brings it either for you or me--see, I share your lot." - -"But you have had your day in the world, and come here of your own -accord; we are only boys, oh, perhaps with threescore and ten years here -before us, as you say in the Psalms." - -"Nay, few here attain the age the Psalmist gives as the ordinary limit -of human life in his day, and, indeed, few outside in these days."[16] - -"Well, we should have been out of it all, had you not interfered." - -"And where?" - -Echo answered "Where?"--the boys were silent. - -The Chaplain saw that in their present mood he could do no good--he -turned elsewhere. - -Nothing but an intense desire to alleviate suffering had brought him to -Byfield lazar-house. The Christianity of that age was sternly practical, -if superstitious; and with all its superstition it exercised a far more -beneficent influence on society than fifty Salvation Armies could have -done; it led men to remember Christ in all forms of loathsome and cruel -suffering, and to seek Him in the suffering members of His mystical -body; if it led to self-chosen austerities, it also had its heights of -heroic self-immolation for the good of others. - -Such a self-immolation was certainly our Chaplain's. He walked amongst -these unfortunates as a ministering angel; where he could do good he did -it, where consolation found acceptance he gave it, and many a -despairing spirit he soothed with the hope of the sunny land of -Paradise. - -And how he preached to them of Him Who sanctified suffering and made it -the path to glory; how he told them how He should some day change their -vile leprous bodies that He might make them like His own most glorious -Body, until the many, abandoning all hope here, looked forward simply -for that glorious consummation of body and soul in bliss eternal. - - - "Oh! how glorious and resplendent - Shall this body some day be; - Full of vigour, full of pleasure, - Full of health, and strong and free: - When renewed in Christ's own image, - Which shall last eternally." - - -But all this was lost on Evroult and Richard. The inherited instincts of -fierce generations of proud and ruthless ancestors were in them--as -surely as the little tigerling, brought up as a kitten, begins -eventually to bite and tear, so did these poor boys long for sword and -lance--for the life of the wild huntsman or the wilder robber baron. - -Instincts worthy of condemnation, yet not without their redeeming -points; such were all our ancestors once, whether Angle, Saxon, Jute, or -Northman; and the fusion has made the Englishman what he is. - - * * * * * - -The bell began to ring for Vespers; there was quite a quarter of an hour -ere they went into chapel. - -It was a dark autumnal evening, the sun had just gone down suddenly into -a huge bank of dark clouds, and gloom had come upon the earth, as the -two boys slipped into the bushes, which bordered their path, unseen. - -The time seemed ages until the bell ceased and they knew that all their -companions were in chapel, and that they must immediately be missed from -their places. - -Prompt to the moment, Evroult cried "_Now_, Richard," and ran to the -wall; he had woven a rope from his bed-clothes, and concealed it about -his person; he had wrenched a bar from his window, and twisted it into -a huge hook; he now threw it over the summit of the lofty wall, and it -bit--held. - -Up the wall the boys swarmed, at the very moment when the Chaplain -noticed their missing forms in their seats in chapel, and the keepers, -too, who counted their numbers as they went in, found "two short," and -went to search the grounds. - -To search--but not to find. The boys were over the wall, and running for -the woods. - -Oh, how dark and dismal the woods seemed in the gloom. But happily there -was a full moon to come that night, as the boys knew, and they felt also -that the darkness shielded them from immediate pursuit. - -Onward they plunged--through thicket and brake, through firm ground and -swamp, hardly knowing which way they were going, until they came upon a -brook, and sat down on its bank in utter weariness. - -"Oh, Evroult, how shall we find our way? And we have had no supper; I am -getting hungry already," cried the younger boy. - -"Do you not know that all these brooks run to the Cherwell, and the -Cherwell into the Thames? We will keep down the brook till we come to -the river, and then to the river till we come to Oxnaford." - -"Listen, there is the bay of a hound! Oh, Evroult, he will tear us in -pieces! It is that savage mastiff of theirs, 'Tear-'em.' The keepers are -after us. Oh, what shall we do?" - -"Be men--like our father," said the sterner Evroult. - -"But we have no weapons." - -"I have my fist. If he comes at me I will thrust it down his foul -throat, or grasp his windpipe, and strangle him." - -"Evroult, I have heard that they cannot track us in water. Let us walk -down the brook." - -"Oh, there is a fire!" - -"No, it is the moon rising over the trees; that is the light she sends -before her. You are right--now for the brook. Ah! it feels clear and -pebbly, no mud to stick in. Come, Richard! let us start. No, stay, I -remember that if the brute finds blood he will go no farther. Here is my -knife," and the desperate boy produced a little pocket-knife. - -"What are you going to do?" - -"Drop a little blood. There is a big blue vein in my arm." - -And the reckless lad opened a vein in his arm, which bled freely. - -"Let me do the same," cried the other. - -"No; this is enough." And he scattered the blood all about, then looked -out for some "dock-leaf," and bound it over the wound with part of the -cord which had helped them over the wall. - -"Now, that will do. Let us hurry down the brook, Richard, before they -come in sight." - -Such determination had its reward; they left all pursuit behind them, -and heard no more of the hound. - -Tired out at last, they espied with joy an old barn by the brook side, -turned in, found soft hay, and, reckless of all consequences, slept till -the sun was high in the heavens. - -Then they awoke, and lo! a gruff man was standing over them. - -"Who are you, boys?" - -"The sons of the Lord of Wallingford." - -"How came you here?" - -"Lost in the woods." - -"But Wallingford is far away to the south." - -"We are on our road home; can you give us some food?" - -"If you will come to my house, you shall have what I can give you. Why! -what is the matter with that hand, that cheek? Good heavens, ye are -lepers; keep off!" - -The poor boys stood rooted to the spot with shame. - -"And ye have defiled my hay--no one will dare touch it. I have a great -mind to shut you both in, and burn you and the hay together." - -"That you shall not," said the fierce Evroult, and dashed through the -open door, almost upsetting the man, who was so afraid of touching the -lepers that he could offer no effective resistance, and the two got off. - -"That was a narrow escape, but how shall we get food?" - -A few miles down the brook they began to feel very faint. - -"See, there is a farm; let us ask for some milk and bread." - -"Richard, you are not marked as I am, you go first." - -A poor sort of farm in the woods--farmhouse, ricks, stables, barns, of -rude construction. A woman was milking the cows in a hovel with open -door. - -"Please give us some milk," said Richard, standing in the doorway; "we -are very hungry and thirsty." - -"Drink from the bowl. How came you in the woods?" - -"Lost." - -"And there is another--your brother, is he?--round the door. Drink and -pass it to him." - -They both drank freely, Evroult turning away the bad cheek. - -As Richard gave back the bowl, the woman espied his hands. - -"Mother of mercy! why, where are your fingers? you are a leper, out! -out! John, turn out the dogs." - -"Nay! nay! we will go; only throw us a piece of bread." - -"Why are you not shut up? Good Saints!" - -"Please do not be hard upon us--give us some bread." - -"Will you promise to go away?" - -"Yes, if you will give us some bread." - -"Keep off, then;" and the good woman, a little softened, gave them some -oaten cakes, just as her husband appeared in the distance coming in from -the fields. - -"Now off, before any harm come of it; go back to Byfield lazar-house." - -"It was so dreadful; we have run away." - -"Poor boys, so young too; but off, or my good man may set the dogs at -you." - -And they departed, much refreshed. - -"Oh Evroult, how every one abhors us!" - -"It is very hard to bear." - -At midday, still following the brook, they were saluted with a stern -"Stand, and deliver!" - -A fellow in forester's garb, with bow and arrow so adjusted that he -could send the shaft in a moment through any body, opposed their -passage. - -"We are only poor boys." - -"Whither bound?" - -"For Wallingford." - -"Why, that is three days' journey hence; come with me." - -He led them into an open glade; there was a large fire over which a -cauldron hung, emitting a most savoury stew as it bubbled, and stretched -around the fire were some thirty men, evidently outlaws of the Robin -Hood type. - -"What are these boys?" - -"Wanderers in the woods, who say they want to go to Wallingford." - -"Whose sons are ye?" - -"Of Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of Wallingford." - -"By all the Saints! then my rede is to hang them for their father's -sake, and have no more of the brood. Have you any brothers? Good -heavens! they are lepers." - -"Send an arrow through each." - -"For shame, Ulf, the hand of God hath touched them; but depart." - -"Give us some food." - -"Not unless you promise to go back to the lazar-house, from which we see -you have escaped." - -Poor boys, even hungry as they were, they would not promise. - -"Put some bread on that stump," said the leader, "and let them take it; -come not near: now off!" - -It was the last food the poor boys got for many hours, for every one -abhorred their presence and drove them off with sticks and stones, -until, wearied out, Richard sank fainting on the ground on the eventide -of that weary day. - -Evroult was at the end of his resources, and at last felt beaten; tears -were already trickling down his manly young face. - -An aged man bent over them. - -"Why do you weep, my son? what is the matter with your companion?" - -It was an old man who spoke, in long coarse robe, and a rope around his -waist. Evroult recognised the hermit. - -"We are lepers," said he despairingly. - -The old man bent down and kissed their sores. - -"I see Christ in you; come to my humble cell--there you shall have food, -fire, and shelter." - -He helped them to ascend the rocky side of the valley, until they came -to a natural cave half concealed by herbage--an artificial front had -been built of stone, with door and window; a spring of water bubbled -down the rock, to find its destination in the brook below. Far over the -forest they could see a river, red in the light of the setting sun, and -the buildings of a town of some size in the dim distance. The river, -although they knew it not, was the Cherwell, the town, Banbury. - -He led them and seated them by a fire, gave them food, then, after he -had heard their tale-- - -"My dear children," he said, "if you dread the lazar-house so much, ye -may stay with me while ye will; go not forth again into the cruel, cruel -world, poor wounded lambs." - -And the good man put them to bed upon moss and leaves. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[16] Too true. Bad sanitary arrangements causing constant plague and -fever, ignorance of medicine, frequent famines, the constant casualties -of war, had brought men to think fifty years a ripe old age in the -twelfth century. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -OSRIC AT HOME - - -It is not our intention to follow Osric's career closely during the -early period of his pagehood under the fostering care of Brian -Fitz-Count and the influence of Alain, but we shall briefly dwell in -this chapter upon the great change which was taking place in his life -and character. - -When we first met him, he was simple to a fault, but he had the sterling -virtues of truthfulness and obedience, purity and unselfishness, -sedulously cultivated in a congenial soil by his grandfather, one of -Nature's noblemen, although not ranked amongst the Norman _noblesse_. - -But it was the virtue which had never yet met real temptation. -Courageous and brave he was also, but still up to the date of the -adventure with the deer, he had never struck a blow in anger, or harmed -a fellow-creature, save the beasts of the chase whom he slew for food, -not for sport. - -Then came the great change in his life: the gentle, affectionate lad was -thrown into the utterly worldly and impure atmosphere of a Norman -castle--into a new world; thoughts and emotions were aroused to which he -had been hitherto a perfect stranger, and, strange to say, he felt -unsuspected traits in his own character, and desires in his own unformed -mind answering to them. - -For instance, he who had never raised a hand in angry strife, felt the -homicidal impulse rush upon him during the skirmish we described in a -previous chapter. He longed to take part in the frays, to be where blows -were going; thenceforward he gave himself up with ardour to the study -of war; he spent all his spare time in acquiring the arts of fence and -the management of weapons; and Brian smiled grimly as he declared that -Osric would soon be a match for Alain. - -But it was long before the Baron allowed him to take part in actual -bloodshed, and then only under circumstances which did not involve -needless risk, or aught more than the ordinary chances of mortal combat, -mitigated by whatsoever aid his elders could afford; for Brian loved the -boy with a strange attachment; the one soft point in his armour of proof -was his love for Osric--not a selfish love, but a parental one, as if -God had committed the boy to his charge in the place of those he had -lost. - -Yet he did not believe Osric was his long-lost son: no, that child was -dead and gone,--the statements of the old man were too explicit to allow -of further doubt. - -Osric was present when that brutal noble, Robert Fitz-Hubert, stormed -Malmesbury; there he beheld for the first time the horrors of a _sack_; -there he saw the wretched inhabitants flying out of their burning homes -to fall upon the swords of the barbarous soldiery. At the time he felt -that terrible thirst so like that of a wild beast,--which in some modern -sieges, such as Badajos, has turned even Englishmen into wild and -merciless savages,--and then when it was over, he felt sick and loathed -himself. - -He was fond of Alain, who returned the preference, yet Alain was a bad -companion, for he was an adept in the vices of his day--not unlike our -modern ones altogether, yet developed in a different soil, and of ranker -growth. - -Therefore Osric soon had many secrets he could not confide to his -grandfather, whom he was permitted to see from time to time,--a great -concession on the part of the Lord of Wallingford, who craved all the -boy's love for himself. - -"Thou art changed, my dear Osric," said his grandfather on one of these -occasions, a fine Sunday morn when Osric had leave of absence. - -They were on their way through the tangled wood to the old Saxon Church -of Aston Upthorpe, in which King Alfred was said to have heard Mass.[17] - - - "The woods were God's first temples, ere man raised - The architrave." - - -The very fountains babbled in His honour Who made them to laugh and -sing, the birds sang their matin songs in His praise--this happy -woodland was exempted from all those horrors of war which already -devastated the rest of England, for it was safe under the protection of -Brian, to whom, wiser than Wulfnoth of Compton, it paid tribute; and at -this juncture Maude and her party were supreme, for it was during -Stephen's captivity at Bristol. - -"Thou art changed, my dear Osric." - -"How, my grandsire?" - -"Thy face is the same, yet not the same, even as Adam's face was the -same, yet not the same, after he learned the secret of evil, which drove -him from Paradise." - -"And I too have been driven from Paradise: my Eden was here." - -"Wouldst thou return if thou couldst; if Brian consented to release -thee." And the old man looked the youth full in the face. - -Osric was transparently truthful. - -"No, grandfather," he said, and then blushed. - -"Ah, thou art young and lovest adventure and the gilded panoply of war: -what wonder! such was thy father, Wulfnoth of Compton, of whom thou art -the sole surviving child." - -"Tell me, grandfather, is he dead--is my poor father dead?" - -"That is a secret which may not be committed even to thee; were he -alive, he would curse thee, did he know thou wert fighting under Brian's -banner." - -"It was to save thy life." - -"I know it, my child, and would be the last to blame thee, yet I am -glad thy father knows it not. He has never inquired concerning thee." - -"Then he is alive?" - -"Did I say he was? I meant not to do so--seek not to know--knowledge is -sometimes dangerous." - -"Well, if he is alive," said Osric, a little piqued, "he does not care -half so much for me as does my Lord of Wallingford. _He_ would have -asked about me." - -"He treats thee well then." - -"As if he loved me." - -"It is strange--passing strange; as soon should I expect a wolf to -fondle a kid." - -"I am not a kid, at least not now." - -"What then, dear boy? a wolf?" - -"More like one, I think, than a kid." - -"And thou hast looked on bloodshed with unflinching eye and not -shuddered?" - -"I shuddered just at first; but I have got used to it: you have often -said war is lawful." - -"Yes, for one's country, as when Alfred fought against the Danes or -Harold at Senlac. So it was noble to die as died my father,--your own -ancestor, Thurkill of Kingestun; so, had I been old enough to have gone -with him, should I have died." - -"And you took part in the skirmishes which followed Senlac?" - -"I fought under the hero Hereward." - -"And did _you_ shudder to look upon war?" - -"Only as a youth naturally does the first time he sees the blood of man -poured forth like water--it is not for that I would reproach thee, only -_we_ fought for liberty; and it is better to die than to live a life of -slavery,--happier far were they who fell around our noble Harold on the -hill of Senlac, than they who survived to see the desolation and misery, -the chains and slavery which awaited the land; but, my child, what are -you fighting for? surely one tyrant is no better than another, Maude or -Stephen, what does it matter?" - -"Save, grandfather, that Maude is the descendant of our old English -kings--her great-grandfather was the Ironside of whose valiant deeds I -have often heard you boast." - -"True, my son, and therefore of the _two_, I wish her success; but she -also is the grandchild of the Conqueror, who was the scourge of God to -this poor country." - -"In that case God sent him." - -"Deliver my soul from the ungodly, which is a sword of Thine," quoted -the pious old man, well versed in certain translations from the Psalms. - -"My grandfather, I fought against it as long as I could, as thou -knowest; I would have died, and did brave the torture, rather than -consent to become a page of the Lord of Wallingford; and when I did so -become to save _thy_ life, I felt bound in honour to be faithful, and so -to the best of my power I have been." - -"And now thou lovest the yoke, and wouldst not return?" - -Again the youth coloured. - -"Grandfather, I cannot help it--excitement, adventure, the glory of -victory, the joy even of combat, has that attraction for me of which our -bards have sung, in the old songs of the English Chronicles which you -taught me around the hearth." - -"The lion's cub is a lion still; let him but taste blood, and the true -nature comes out." - -"Better be a lion than a deer--better eat than be eaten, grandfather." - -"I know not," said the old man pensively, "but, my child, never draw thy -sword to oppress thy poor countrymen, unless thou wouldst have thy -father curse thee." - -"He is not dead then?" - -"I said not so." - -"Why not tell me whether my father lives?" - -"Because in thy present position, which thou canst not escape, the -knowledge would be dangerous to thee." - -"How came my father to leave me in thy care? how did my mother die? why -am I the only one left of my kin?" - -"All this I am bound not to tell thee, my child; try and forget it all -until thou art of full age." - -"And then?" - -"Perchance even _then_ it were better to let the dead bury their dead." - -Osric sighed. - -"Why am I the child of mystery? why have I not a surname like my -compeers? they mock me now and then, and I have had two or three sharp -fights in consequence; at last the Baron found it out, for he saw the -marks upon my face, and he spoke so sternly to them that they ceased to -gibe." - -"My dear boy, commit it all to thy Heavenly Father; thou dost not forget -thy prayers?" - -"Not when I am in the Castle chapel." - -"And not at other times?" - -"It is impossible. I sleep amidst other pages. I just cross myself when -I think of it, and say a Pater and an Ave." - -"And how often dost thou go to Mass?" - -"When we are not out on an expedition, each Sunday." - -"Does the Baron go to church with you?" - -"Yes, but he does not believe much in it." - -"I feared not: and thy companions?" - -"They often laugh and jest during Matins or Mass." - -"And you?" - -"I try not to join them, because it would grieve you." - -"There should be a higher motive." - -"I know it." - -"And with regard to other trials and temptations, are your companions -good lads?" - -Osric laughed aloud. - -"No, grandfather, anything but that." - -"And you?" - -"I go to the good priest of St. Mary's to Confession, and that wipes it -off." - -"Nay, my child, not without penitence, and penitence is shown by -ceasing to sin." - - ---- - -Now they had arrived at the rustic church of East-town, or Aston, on the -slope of the old Roman camp, which uprose above the forest. Many -woodsmen and rustics of the humble village were there. It was a simple -service: rude village psalmody; primitive vestments and ritual, quite -unlike the gorgeous scenes then witnessed in cathedral or abbey church, -in that age of display. Osmund of Sarum had not made his influence felt -much here, although the church was in the diocese he once ruled. All was -of the old Anglo-Saxon type, as when Alfred was alive, and England free. -There was not a Norman there to criticise; they shunned the churches to -which the rustics resorted, and where the homilies were in the English -tongue, which they would not trouble to learn. - -Poor Osric! his whole character and disposition may be plainly enough -traced in the conversation given above. The reader must not condemn the -grandfather, old Sexwulf, for his reticence concerning the mystery of -Osric's birth. When Wulfnoth of Compton brought the babe to his door, it -was with strict injunctions not to disclose the secret till he gave -permission. The old grandfather did not understand the reasons why so -much mystery was made of the matter, but he felt bound to obey the -prohibition. - -Hence all that Osric knew was that he was the last survivor of his -family, and that all besides him had perished in the wars, save a father -of whom little was known, except that he manifested no interest -whatsoever in his son. - -Perhaps the reader can already solve the riddle; we have given hints -enough. Only he must remember that neither Brian nor Sexwulf had his -advantages. - -The service of the village church sounded sweetly in the ears of Osric -that day. He was affected by the associations which cling about the -churches where we once knelt by a father or mother's side; and Osric -felt like a child again as he knelt by his grandfather--it might be for -the last time, for the possibility of sudden death on the battle-field, -of entering a deadly fray never to emerge alive, of succumbing beneath -the sword or lance of some stronger or more fortunate adversary, was -ever present to the mind; yet Osric did not fear death on the -battle-field. There was, and is, an unaccountable glamour about it: men -who would not enter a "pest-house" for the world, would volunteer for a -"forlorn hope." - -But it is quite certain that on that day all the religious impulses -Osric had ever felt, were revived, and that he vowed again and again to -be a true knight, _sans peur et sans reproche_, fearing nought but God, -and afraid only of sin and shame, as the vow of chivalry imported, if -knight he was ever allowed to become. - -_Ite missa est_[18]--it was over, and they left the rustic church. -Outside the neighbours clustered and chatted as they do nowadays. They -congratulated Sexwulf on his handsome grandson, and flattered the boy as -they commented on his changed appearance, but there always seemed -something they left unsaid. - -Neither was their talk cheerful; it turned chiefly upon wars and rumours -of wars. They had been spared, but there were dismal tales of the -country around--of murder and arson, of fire and sword, of worse scenes -yet behind, and doom to come. - -They hoped to gather in _that_ harvest, whether another would be theirs -to reap was very doubtful. And so at last they separated, and through -some golden fields of corn, for it was nearly harvest time, Sexwulf and -his grandson wended their way to their forest home. It was a day long -remembered, for it was the very last of a long series of peaceful -Sundays in the forest. Osric felt unusually happy that afternoon, as he -returned home with his grandfather, full of the strength of new -resolutions with which we are told the way to a place, unmentionable to -ears polite, is paved; and his manner to his grandfather was so sweet -and affectionate, that the dear old man was delighted with his boy. - -The evening was spent at home, for there was no Vesper service at the -little chapel--amidst the declining shadows of the trees, the solemn -silence of the forest, the sweet murmuring of the brook. The old man -slept in the shade, seated upon a mossy bank. Osric slept too, with his -head pillowed upon his grandfather's lap; while in wakeful moments the -aged hands played with his graceful locks. Old Judith span in the -doorway and watched the lad. - -"He is as bonny as he is brave, and as brave as he is bonny, the dear -lad," she said. - -Then came the shadows of night. The old man brought forth his -dilapidated harp, and the three sang the evening hymn to its -accompaniment-- - - - "Te lucis ante terminum," - - -and repeated the psalm _Qui habitat_; then with a short prayer, not -unlike our "Lighten our darkness," indeed its prototype, they retired to -sleep, while the wind sighed a requiem about them through the arches of -the forest, and dewy odours stole through the crevices of the hut-- - - - "The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below." - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[17] It still stands, one of the oldest of our old village churches. - -[18] _Ite missa est_, _i.e._ the concluding words of the Mass. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE HERMITAGE - - -Nothing is more incomprehensible to the Christians of the nineteenth -century than the lives of the hermits, and the general verdict passed -upon them is, that they were useless, idle men, who fled from the world -to avoid its work, or else were possessed with an unreasoning -superstition which turned them into mere fanatics. - -But this verdict is one-sided and unjust, and founded upon ignorance of -the world of crime and violence from which these men fled,--a world -which seemed so utterly abandoned to cruelty and lust that men despaired -of its reformation; a world wherein men had no choice between a life of -strife and bloodshed, and the absolute renunciation of society; a world -wherein there was no way of escape but to flee to the deserts and -mountains, or enter the monastic life, for those, who, as ancient -Romans, might have committed suicide, but as Christians, felt they -_must_ live, till God in His mercy called them hence. - -And so while the majority of those who sought God embraced what is -commonly called, _par excellence_, the religious life, others sought Him -in solitude and silence; wherein, however, they were followed by that -universal reverence which men, taught by the legends of the Church, -bestowed on the pious anchorite. - -Poverty, celibacy, self-annihilation, were their watchwords; and in -contemplation of death, judgment, Hell, and Heaven, these lonely hours -were passed. - -Such a man was Meinhold, with whom the youthful sons of Brian -Fitz-Count had found refuge. From childhood upwards he had loathed the -sin he saw everywhere around him, and thence he sought the monastic -life; but as ill-hap would have it, found a monastery in which the monks -were forgetful of their vows, and slaves of sin, somewhat after the -fashion of those described in Longfellow's "Golden Legend," for such -there were, although, we believe, they were but exceptions to the -general rule-- - - - "Corruptio optimi est pessima." - - -The corruption of that which is very good is commonly the worst of all -corruption: if monks did not rise above the world, they fell beneath it. -Meinhold sternly rebuked them; and, in consequence, when one day it was -his turn to celebrate the Eucharist, they poisoned the wine he should -have used. By chance he was prevented from saying the Mass that day, and -a poor young friar who took his place fell down dead on the steps of the -altar. Meinhold shook off the dust of his feet and left them, and they -in revenge said a Mass for the Dead on his behalf, with the idea that it -would hasten his demise; for if not religious they were superstitious. - -Then he determined that he would have nought more to do with his -fellow-men, and sought God's first temples, the forests. In the summer -time he wandered in its glades, reciting his Breviary, until he found -out a place where he might lay his head. - -A range of limestone hills had been cleft in the course of ages by a -stream, which had at length scooped out a valley, like unto the "chines" -in the Isle of Wight, and now rushed brawling into the river below, -adown the vale it had made. In the rock, on one side of the vale, -existed a large cave, formed by the agency of water, in the first place, -but now high and dry. It had not only one, but several apartments; -cavern opened out of cavern, and so dark and devious were their -windings, that men feared to penetrate them. - -Hither, for the love of God, came Meinhold. He had found the place he -desired--a shelter from the storms of Heaven. In the outer cave he -placed a rude table and seat, which he made for himself; and in an inner -cavern he made a bed of flags and leaves. - -In the corner of the cell he placed his crucifix. Wandering in the woods -he found the skeleton of some poor hapless wayfarer, long since denuded -of its flesh. He placed the skull beneath the crucifix as a _memento -mori_, not without breathing a prayer for the poor soul to whom it had -once belonged. - -Here he read his Breviary, which, let the reader remember, was mainly -taken from the Word of God, psalms and lessons forming three-fourths of -the contents of the book, arranged, as in our Prayer Book, for the -Christian year. It was his sole possession,--a bequest of a deceased -friend, worth its weight in gold in the book market, but far more -valuable in Meinhold's eyes. - -Here, then, he passed a blameless if monotonous existence, to which but -one objection could be made--it was a _selfish_ life. Even if the -selfishness were of a high order, man was not sent into the world simply -to save, each one, his own soul. The life of the Chaplain at Byfield -lazar-house showed how men could abjure self far more truly than in a -hermitage. - -Sometimes thoughts of this kind passed through the mind of our hermit -and drove him distracted, until his cry became, - - - "Lord, what wilt Thou have me to do?" - - -And while he thus sought to know God's Will, the two poor fugitives, -Evroult and Richard, came into his way. - -Poor wounded lambs! no fear had he of their terrible malady. The Lord -had sent them to him, and the hermit felt his prayers were answered. -Wearied out and tired by their long day's journey, the poor boys -passively accepted his hospitality; and they ate of his simple fare, -and slept on his bed of leaves as if it had been a couch of down; nor -did they awake till the sun was high in the heavens. - -The hermit had been up since sunrise. He had long since said his Matins -and Lauds from his well-thumbed book; and then kindling a fire in a sort -of natural hearth beneath a hole in the rock, which opened to the upper -air, he roasted some oatmeal cakes, and went out to gather blackberries -and nuts, as a sort of dessert after meat, for the boys. It was all he -had to offer. - -At last they awoke. - -"Where are we, Evroult?" - -It was some moments before they realised where they were--not an -uncommon thing when one awakes in the morning in a strange place. - -Soon, however, they bethought themselves of the circumstances under -which they stood, and rising from their couch, arranged their apparel, -passed their fingers through their hair in lieu of comb, rubbed their -sleepy eyes, and came into the outer cave, where the hermit crouched -before the fire acting the part of cook. - -He heard them, and stood up. - -"_Pax vobiscum_, my children, ye look better this morning; here is your -breakfast, come and eat it, and then we will talk." - -"Have you no meat?" Evroult was going to say, but the natural instinct -of a gentleman checked him. They had fed well at the lazar-house, but -better oaten cakes and liberty. - -"Oh what nice nuts," said Richard; "and blackberries, too." - -The hermit's eyes sparkled as he noted the sweet smile which accompanied -the words. The face of the younger boy was untouched by the leprosy. -They satisfied their hunger, and then began to talk. - -"Father, how long may we stay here?" - -"As long as you like--God has sent you hither." - -"But we want to get to Wallingford Castle." - -"No! no! brother: let us stay here," said the younger and milder boy; -"think how every one hates us; that terrible day yesterday--oh, it was a -terrible day! they treated us as if we had been mad dogs or worse." - -"Yes, we will stay, father, at least for a while, if you will let us; we -are not a poor man's sons--not English, but Normans; our father is----" - -"Never mind, my child--gentle or simple is all one to God, and all one -here. Did your father then send you to the lazar-house?" - -"Yes, three years agone." - -"And has he ever sought you since?" - -"No, he has never been to see us--he has forgotten us; we were there for -life; we knew and felt it, and only a week ago strove to drown ourselves -in the deep pond." - -"That was very wrong--no one may put down the burden of the flesh, till -God give him leave." - -"Do you think you can cure us?" - -"Life and death, sickness and health, are all in God's hands. I will -try." - -Their poor wan faces lit up with joy. - -"And this hole in my cheek?" - -"But my poor fingers, two are gone; you cannot give them me back," and -Richard burst into tears. - -"Come, my child, you must not cry--God loves you and will never leave -nor forsake you. Every cloud has its bright side; what if you have -little part in the wicked world?" - -"But I _love_ the world," said Evroult. - -"Love the world! Do you really love fighting and bloodshed, fire and -sword? for they are the chief things to be found therein just now." - -"Yes I do; my father is a warrior, and so would I be," said the -unblushing Evroult. - -"And thou, Richard?" - -"I hardly know," said he of the meeker spirit and milder mood. - -"Come, ye children, and hearken unto me, and I will teach you the fear -of the Lord." - -"Slaves fear." - -"Ah, but it is not the fear of a _slave_, but a _son_ of which I -speak--that fear which is the beginning of wisdom; and which, indeed, -every true knight should possess if he fulfil the vows of chivalry. But -I will not say more now. Wander in the woods if you like, just around -the cave, or down in the valley; gather nuts or blackberries, but go not -far, for fear ye meet men who may ill-treat you." - -Then the hermit went forth, and threw the crumbs out of his cave; the -birds came in flocks. Evroult caught up a stone. - -"Nay, my child, they are _my_ birds; we hurt nothing here. See! come, -pet! birdie!" and a large blackbird nestled on his shoulder, and picked -at a crust which the hermit took in his hand. - -"They all love me, as they love all who are kind to them. Birds and -beasts are alike welcome here; some wolves came in the winter, but they -did me no harm." - -"I should have shot them, if I had had a bow." - -"Nay, my child, you must not slay my friends." - -"But may we not kill rabbits or birds to eat?" - -"No flesh is eaten here; we sacrifice no life of living thing to sustain -our own wretched selves." - -"No meat! not of any kind! not even on feast-days!" - -"My boy, you will be better without it--it nourishes all sorts of bad -passions, pride, cruelty, impurity, all are born of the flesh; and -_see_, it is not needed. I am well and strong and never ill." - -"But I should soon be," said Evroult. - -"Nay, I like cakes, nuts, and blackberries better," said Richard. - -"Quite right, my son; now go and play in the valley beneath, until -noonday, when you may take your noon meat." - -They lay in the shade of a tree. It was one of the last days of summer, -and all seemed pleasant--the murmur of the brook and the like. - -"I can never bear this long," said Evroult. - -"I think it very pleasant," said Richard; "do not ask me to go away." - -Evroult made no reply. - -"It is no use, brother," said Richard, "_no_ use; we can never be -knights and warriors unless we recover of our leprosy; and so the good -God has given us a home and a kind friend, and it is far better than the -lazar-house." - -"But our father?" - -"He has forsaken us, cast us off. We should never get out with his -permission. No! be content, let us stay here--yesterday frightened -me--we should never reach Wallingford alive." - -And so Evroult gave way, and tried his best to be content--tried to -learn of Meinhold, tried to do without meat, to love birds and beasts, -instead of shooting them, tried to learn his catechism; yes, there was -always a form of catechetical instruction for the young, taught -generally _viva voce_, and the good hermit gave much time to the boys -and found delight therein. - -Richard consented to learn to read and write; Evroult disdained it, and -would not learn. - -So the year passed on; autumn deepened into winter. There was plenty of -fuel about, and the boys suffered little from cold; they hung up skins -and coverings over the entrances to the caves, and kept the draught out. - -There was a mystery about those inner caves; the hermit would never let -them enter beyond the two or three outer ones--those dark and dismal -openings were, he assured them, untenanted; but their windings were such -that the boys might easily lose their way therein, and never get out -again--he thought there were precipitous gulfs into which they might -fall. - -But sometimes at night, when all things were still, the strangest sounds -came from the caves, like the sobbings of living things, the plaintive -sigh, the hollow groan: and the boys heard and shuddered. - -"It is only the wind in the hollows of the earth," said Meinhold. - -"How does it get in?" asked the boys. - -"There are doubtless many crevices which we know not." - -"I thought there were ghosts there." - -"Nay, my child. It is only the wind: sleep in peace." - -But as the winter storms grew frequent, these deep sighs and hollow -groans seemed to increase, and the boys lay and shuddered, while -sometimes even the hermit was fain to cross himself, and say a prayer -for any poor souls who might be in unrest. - -The winter was long and cold, but spring came at last. The change of air -had worked wonders in the general health of the boys, but the leprosy -had not gone: no, it could not really be said that there was any change -for the better. - -Only the poor boys were far happier than at Byfield; they entered into -the ideas and ways of the hermit more and more. Evroult at last -consented to learn to read, and found time pass more rapidly in -consequence. - -But he could not do one thing--he could not subdue those occasional -bursts of passion which seemed to be rooted in the very depths of his -nature. When things crossed him he often showed his fierce disposition, -and terrified his brother; who, although brave enough,--how could one of -such a breed be a coward,--stood in awe of the hermit, and saw things -with the new light the Gospel afforded more and more each day. - -One day the old hermit read to them the passage wherein it is written, -"If a man smite you on one cheek, turn to him the other." Evroult could -not restrain his dissent. - -"If I did that I should be a coward, and my father, for one, would -despise me. If _that_ is the Gospel, I shall never be a real Christian, -nor are there many about." - -"I would, my son, that you had grace, to think differently. These be -counsels of perfection, given by our Lord Himself to His disciples." - -"I could not turn the other cheek to my enemy to save my life." - -"Then let him smite you on the _same_ one." - -"I could not do that either," said Evroult more sharply. - -"If you cannot, at least do not return evil for evil." - -"I should if I had the power." - -"My child, it is the devil in you which makes you say that." - -Evroult turned red with passion, and Richard began to cry. - -"Nay, my child, do not cry; that is useless. Pray for him," said the -hermit. - -Another time Evroult craved flesh. - -"No, my son," said Meinhold, "when a man fills himself with flesh, -straightway the great vices bubble out. I remember a monk who one Lent -went secretly and bought some venison from a wicked gamekeeper, and put -it in his wallet; when lo! as he was returning home, the dogs, smelling -the flesh, fell upon him, and tore him up as well as the meat." - -"Why is it wrong to eat meat? The Chaplain at Byfield told me that the -Bible said it was lawful at proper times, and this is not Lent." - -"It is always Lent here,--in a hermit's cell,--and it is a duty to be -contented with one's food. I knew a monk who grumbled at his fare and -said he would as soon eat toads; and lo! the just God did not disappoint -him of his desire. For a month and more his cell was filled with toads. -They got into his soup, they jumped upon his plate, they filled his bed, -until I think he would have died, had not all the brethren united in -prayer that he might be free from the scourge." - -Evroult laughed merrily at this, and forgot his craving. In short, the -old man was so loving and kind, and so transparently sincere, that he -could not be angry long. - -Another fault Evroult had was vanity. Once he was admiring himself in -the mirror of a stream, for he really was, but for the leprosy, a -handsome lad. "Ah, my child," said Meinhold, "thou art like a house -which has a gay front, but the thieves have got in by the back door." - -"Nay," said poor Evroult, putting his hand to his hollowed cheek, "they -have broken through the front window." - -"Ah, what of that; the house shall be set in order by and by, if thou -art a good lad." - -He meant in Heaven. But Evroult only sighed. Heaven seemed to him far -off: his longings were of the earth. - -And Richard: well, that supernatural influence we call "grace" had found -him in very deed. He grew less and less discontented with his lot; -murmured no more about the lost fingers; scarcely noticed the fact that -the others were going; but drank in all the hermit's talk about the life -beyond, with the growing conviction that there alone should he regain -even the perfection of the body. One effect of his touching resignation -was this, that the hermit conceived so much love towards him, that he -had to pray daily against idolatry, as he fancied the affection for an -earthly object must needs be, and so restrained it that there was little -fear of his spoiling the boy. - -The hermit, who, as we have seen, was a priest, had hitherto been -restrained by the canons from saying Mass alone, and had sought some -rustic church for Communion. Of course he could not take the young -lepers there, so he celebrated the Holy Mysteries in a third cave, -fitted up as best it might be for a chapel, and the boys assisted. One -would think Nature had designed this third cave for a chapel. There was -a natural recess for the altar; there were fantastic pillars like those -in a cathedral, only more irregular, supporting the roof, which was -lofty; and stalactites, graceful as the pendants in an ice-cavern, hung -from above. - -They never saw other human beings, save now and then some grief-stricken -soul came for spiritual advice and assistance, always given without -their dwelling, with the stream between the hermit and the seeker. For -leprosy was known to be in the cave, and it was commonly reported that -Meinhold had paid the natural penalty of his self-devotion. - -It was too true. - -One day Evroult saw him looking at a red burning spot on his palm. - -He recognised it and burst into tears. - -"Father, you have given yourself for us: I wish the dogs had torn me -before I came here." - -"Christ gave Himself for me," said Meinhold quietly. - -"Did you not know it, Evroult? I knew it long ago," said Richard -quietly. It seemed natural to him that one who loved the Good Shepherd -should give his life for the sheep. But the sweet smile with which he -looked into the hermit's face was quite as touching as Evroult's tears. - -The hermit was quite indifferent to the fact. - -"As well this as any other way," he said; yet the affection of the boys -was pleasant to him. - -They lacked not for food. The people of the neighbouring farms, some -distance across the forest, sent presents of milk and eggs and fruit -from time to time, and of other necessaries. They had once been boldly -offered: now they were set down on the other side of the stream and -left. - -Occasionally hunters--the neighbouring barons--broke the silence with -hound and horn. They generally avoided the hermit's glen--conspicuously -devoted to the peace of God; but once a poor flying stag, pursued by the -hounds, came tearing down the vale. Evroult glistened with animation: he -would have rushed on in the train of the huntsmen, but the hermit -restrained him. - -"They would bid their dogs tear you," he said, "when they saw you were -a leper." Then he continued, "Ah, my child, it is a sad sight: sin -brought all this into the world,--God's creatures delighting to rend -each other; so will the fiends hunt the souls of the wicked after death, -until they drive them into the lake of fire." - -"Ah, here comes the poor deer," said Richard, who had caught the -hermit's love of all that moved. "See, he has turned: open the door, -father." - -The deer actually scaled the plateau, wild with terror,--its eyes -glaring, the sweat bedewing its limbs; and it rushed through the opened -door of the cave. - -"Close the door--the dogs will be here." - -The dogs came in truth, and raved about the closed door until the -huntsmen came up, when the hermit emerged upon a ledge above. - -"Where is our deer? hast thou seen it, father?" - -"It has taken sanctuary." - -They looked at each other. - -"Nay, father, sanctuary is not for such creatures: drive it forth." - -"God forbid! the shadow of the Cross protects it. Call off your dogs and -go your way." - -"Let us force the door," said a rough sportsman. - -"Accursed be he who does so; his light shall be extinguished in -darkness," said the hermit. - -"Come, there are more deer than one;" and the knight called off his dogs -with great difficulty. - -"Thou hast done well: so shall it be for thy good in time of need, Sir -Knight." - -"I would sooner fight the deadliest fight I have ever fought than -violate that sanctuary," said the latter; "a curse would be sure to -follow." - -When the hunters had at last taken themselves away, dogs and all, and -the discontented whines and howls of the hounds and the crack of the -huntsman's whip had ceased to disturb the silence of the dell, the -hermit and the boys went in to look at the deer: he had thrown himself -down, or fallen, panting, in the boys' bed of leaves, and turned piteous -yet confiding eyes on them, large and lustrous, which seemed to implore -pity, and to say, "I know you will not let them hurt me." - -The better instinct of Evroult was touched. - -"Well, my son," said the hermit, "dost thou still crave for flesh? Shall -we kill him and roast some venison collops?" - -"No," said Evroult, with energy. - -"Ah, I thought so, thou art learning compassion: 'Blessed are the -merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.'" - -"Brother," said Richard, "let us try and get that blessing." - -Evroult pressed his hand. - -And when it was dark and all was quiet, they let the deer go. The poor -beast, as if it had reason, almost refused to depart, and licked their -hands as if it knew its protectors, as doubtless it did. - -But we must close this chapter, having begun the sketch of a life which -continued uneventfully for two full years. - - ---- - -Here ends the first part of our tale. We must leave the boys with the -good hermit; Osric learning the usages of war, and other things, under -the fostering care of Brian Fitz-Count; Wulfnoth as a novice at -Dorchester; and so allow a period to pass ere our scattered threads -reunite. - - - - -CHAPTER XV[19] - -THE ESCAPE FROM OXFORD CASTLE - - -Two years had passed away, and it was the last week of Advent, in the -year of our Lord 1141. - -The whole land lay under a covering of deep snow, the frost was keen and -intense, the streams were ice-bound when they could be seen, for -generally snow had drifted and filled their channels; only the ice on -the Thames, wind-swept, could be discerned. - -Through the dense woods of Newenham, which overhung the river, about -three miles above the Abbey Town (Abingdon), at the close of the brief -winter's day, a youth might have been seen making his way (it was not -made for him) through the dense undergrowth towards the bed of the -stream. - -He was one of Dame Nature's most favoured striplings,--tall and straight -as an arrow, with a bright smile and sunny face, wherein large blue eyes -glistened under dark eyebrows; his hair was dark, his features shapely, -his face, however, sunburnt and weather-beaten, although he only -numbered eighteen years. - -Happily unseen, for in those days the probability was that every -stranger was a foe to be avoided, and for such foes our young friend was -not unprepared; it is true, he wore a simple woollen tunic, bound round -by a girdle, but underneath was a coat of the finest chain-armour, proof -against shafts, and in his hand he had a boar-spear, while a short sword -was suspended in its sheath, from his belt. - -Fool indeed would one have been, whether gentle or simple, to traverse -that district, or indeed any other district of "Merrie" England, unarmed -in the year 1141, and our Osric was not such a simple one. - -He has "aged" since we last saw him. He is quite the young warrior now. -The sweet simplicity, begotten of youth and seclusion, is no longer -there, yet there is nought to awaken distrust. He is not yet a knight, -but he is the favourite squire of Brian Fitz-Count--that terrible lord, -and has been the favourite ever since Alain passed over to the immediate -service of the Empress Queen. - -We will not describe him further--his actions shall speak for him; and -if he be degenerate, tell of his degeneracy. - -As he descended the hill towards the stream, a startling interruption -occurred; a loud snarl, and a wolf--yes, there were wolves in England -then--snapped at him: he had trodden on her lair. - -Quick as thought the boar-spear was poised, and the animal slank away, -rejecting the appeal to battle. For why? She knew there were plenty of -corpses about unburied for her to eat, and if they were not quite so -sweet as Osric's fair young flesh, they would be obtained without -danger. Such was doubtless wolfish philosophy. - -He passed on, not giving a second thought to an adventure which would -fill the mind of a modern youth for hours--but he was hardened to -adventures, and _blase_ of them. So he took them as a matter of course -and as the ordinary incidents of life: it was a time of carnage, when -the "survival of the fittest" was being worked out amongst our -ancestors. - -"Ah, here is the river at last," he said to himself, "and now I know my -way: the ice will bear me safely enough, and I shall have an easier -road; although I must be careful, for did I get in, I could hardly swim -in this mail-shirt." - -So he stopped, and taking a pair of rude skates from his wallet, bound -them to his iron-clad shoes, and skated up stream--through a desolate -country. - -Anon the grim old castle of the Harcourts frowned down upon him from the -height where their modern mansion now stands. The sentinels saw him and -sent an arrow after him, but it was vain defiance--the river was beyond -arrow shot, and they only sent one, because it was the usual playful -habit of the day to shoot at strangers, young or old. Every man's hand -was against every man. - -They did not think the dimly discerned stranger, scudding up stream, -worth pursuit, especially as it was getting dark, and the snow drifts -were dangerous. So they let him go, not exactly with a benediction. - -And soon he was opposite the village of Sandford, or rather where the -village should have been; but it was burnt to the very ground--not a -house or hovel was standing; not a dog barked, for there were no dogs -left to bark; nor was any living creature to be seen. Soon Iffley, -another scene of desolation, was in sight; but here there were people. -The old Norman Church, the same the voyager still sees, and stops to -examine, was standing, and was indeed the only edifice to be seen: all -else was blackened ruin, or would have been did not the snow mercifully -cover it. - -Here our young friend left the river, and taking off his rude skates, -ascended the bank to the church by a well-trodden path, and pushed open -the west door. - -He gazed upon a scene to which this age happily affords no parallel. The -church was full, but not of worshippers; two or three fires blazed upon -the stone pavement, and the smoke, eddying upwards, made its exit -through holes purposely broken in the roof for that end; around each -fire sat or squatted groups of men, women, and children--hollow-eyed, -famine-pinched, plague-stricken, or the like. There was hardly a face -amongst them which distress had not deprived of any beauty it might once -have possessed. Many a household was there--father, mother, sons and -daughters, from the stripling to the babe. The altar and sanctuary were -alone respected: a screen then divided them from the nave, and the gate -was jealously locked, opened only each day when the parish priest, who -lived in the old tower above, still faithful to his duty, went in at -dawn, and said Mass; while the poor wretched creatures forgot their -misery for a while, and worshipped. - -Osric passed, unquestioned, through the groups,--the church was a -sanctuary to all,--and at last he reached the chancel gate. A youth of -his own age leant against it. - -"Osric." - -"Alain." - -They left the church together, and sought a solitary place on the brink -of the hill above. - -Where the modern tourist often surveys the city from the ridge of Rose -Hill, our friends gazed. The city, great even then, lay within its -protecting rivers and its new walls, dominated by the huge keep of the -castle of Robert d'Oyley which the reader still may see from the line, -as he nears the city. - -But what a different scene it looked down upon. The moon illumined its -gray walls, and the fires of the besiegers shone with a lurid glare -about the city and within its streets, while the white, ghostly country -environed it around. - -"Thou hast kept thy tryst, Osric." - -"And thou thine, Alain; but thine was the hardest. How didst thou get -out? by the way we agreed upon before I left Oxford?" - -"It was a hard matter. The castle is beleaguered, the usurper is there, -and that treacherous priest, his brother, says a sort of black Mass -every day in the camp: the city is all their own, and only the castle -holds out." - -"And how is our lady?" - -"Poor Domina,[20] as she signs herself. Ah, well, she shall not starve -while there is a fragment of food in the neighbourhood, but, Oh, Osric! -hunger is hard to bear; fortunate wert thou to be chosen to accompany -our lord in that desperate sally a month agone which took you all safely -to Wallingford. But what news dost thou bring?" - -"That the great Earl of Gloucester and Henry Plantagenet have landed in -England, and will await the Empress at Wallingford if she can escape -from Oxford." - -"I can get out myself, as thou seest, and have been able to keep our -tryst, but the Empress--how can we risk her life so precious to us all? -Osric, she must descend by _ropes_, and to-day my hands were so frozen -by the cold that I almost let go, and should have fallen full fifty feet -had I done so; but for a woman--even if, like 'Domina,' she be more than -woman--it will be parlous difficult." - -"It must be tried, for no more reinforcements have appeared: we are -wofully disappointed." - -"And so are we: day by day we have hoped to see your pennons advancing -over the frozen snow to our rescue. Alas! it was nought we saw, save -bulrushes and sedges. Then day by day we hear the trumpets blow, and the -usurper summons us to surrender, without terms, to his discretion." - -"We will see him perish first," said Osric. "Hear our plans. If thou -canst persuade the lady to descend from the tower, and cross the stream -at the midnight after to-morrow, we will have a troop on the outskirts -of Bagley wood, to escort the precious freight to Wallingford, in spite -of all her foes, or we will die in her defence." - -"It is well spoken; and I think I may safely say that it shall be -attempted." - -"And the Baron advises that ye all wear white woollen tunics like mine, -as less likely to be distinguished in the snow, and withal warm." - -"We have many such tunics in the castle. At midnight to-morrow the risk -will be run, you may depend upon it. See, the Domina has entrusted me -with her signet, that you may see that I am a sort of plenipotentiary." - -"And now farewell. Canst thou find thy way through the darkness to -Wallingford? Oxford is near at hand." - -"Nay, I shall rest in the church to-night, and depart at dawn: I should -lose my way in the snow." - -"After Mass, I suppose," said Alain sarcastically. - -"Yes," said Osric, blushing. He was getting ashamed of the relics of his -religious observances; "but Mass and meat, you know, hinder no man. I -shall be at Wallingford ere noon, and the horse will start about the -dusk of the evening. God speed thee." And they parted. - -The Castle of Oxford was one of the great strongholds of the Midlands. -Its walls and bastions enclosed a large area, whereon stood the Church -of St. George. On one side was the Mound, thrown up in far earlier days -than those of which we write, by Ethelflaeda, sister of Alfred, and near -it the huge tower of Robert d'Oyley, which still survives, a stern and -silent witness of the unquiet past. In an upper chamber of that tower -was the present apartment of the warlike lady, alike the descendant of -Alfred and the Conqueror, and the unlike daughter of the sainted Queen -Margaret of Scotland. And there she sat, at the time when Osric met -Alain at Iffley Church, impatiently awaiting the return of her favourite -squire, for such was Alain, whose youthful comeliness and gallant -bearing had won her heart. - -"He tarries long: he cometh not," she said. "Tell me, my Edith, how long -has he been gone?" - -"Scarce three hours, madam, and he has many dangers to encounter. -Perchance he may never return." - -"Now the Saints confound thy boding tongue." - -"Madam!" - -"Why, forsooth, should he be unfortunate? so active, so brave, so sharp -of wit." - -"I only meant that he is mortal." - -"So are we all--but dost thou, therefore, expect to die to-day?" - -"Father Herluin says we all should live as if we did, madam." - -"You will wear my life out. Well, yes, a convent will be the best place -for thee." - -"Nay, madam." - -"Hold thy peace, if thou canst say nought but 'nay,'" said the irascible -Domina. - -Her temper, her irritability and impatience, had alienated many from her -cause. Perchance it would have alienated Alain like the rest, only he -was a favourite, and she was seldom sharp with him. - -How like her father she was in her bearing! even in her undress, for she -wore only a thick woollen robe, stained, by the art of the dyers, in -colours as various as those of the robe Jacob made for Joseph. Sometimes -it flew open, and displayed an inner vesture of rich texture, bound -round with a golden zone or girdle; and around her head, confining her -luxuriant hair, was a circlet of like precious metal, which did duty for -a diadem. - -Little of her sainted mother was there in the Empress Queen; far more -of her stern grandfather, the Conqueror. - -The chamber, of irregular dimensions, was lighted by narrow loopholes. -There was a hearth and a chimney, and a brazier of wood and charcoal -burned brightly. Even then the air was cold, for it was many degrees -below the freezing point, not that they as yet knew how to measure the -temperature. - -She sat and glowered at the grate, as the light departed, and the winter -night set in, dark and gloomy. More than once she approached the -windows, or loopholes, and looked upon the ruined city in the chill and -intermittent moonlight. - -It was nearly _all_ in ruins. Here and there a church tower rose intact; -here and there a lordly dwelling; but fire and sword had swept it. -Neither party regarded the sufferings of the poor. Sometimes the -besiegers made a fire in sport, and warmed themselves by the blaze of a -burgher's dwelling, nor recked how far it spread. Sometimes, as we have -said, the besieged made a sally, and set fire to the buildings which -sheltered their foes. Whichever prevailed, the citizens suffered; but -little recked their oppressors. - -From her elevated chamber Maude could see the watch-fires of the foe in -a wide circle around, but she was accustomed to the sight, tired of it, -in fact, and her one desire was to escape to Wallingford, a far more -commodious and stronger castle. - -In Frideswide, of which she could discern the towers, which as yet had -escaped the conflagration, were the headquarters of her rival, who was -living there at ease on the fat of the land, such fat as was left, at -the expense of the monastic community. And while she gazed, she clenched -her dainty fist, and shook it at the unheeding Stephen, while she -muttered unwomanly imprecations. - -And while she was thus engaged, they brought up her supper. It consisted -of a stew of bones, which had already been well stripped of their flesh -at "the noon-meat." - -"We are reduced to bones, and shall soon be nought but bones ourselves; -but our gallant defenders, I fear, fare worse. Here, Edith, Hilda, bring -your spoons and take your share." - -And with small wooden spoons they dipped into the royal dish. - -A step on the stairs and the chamberlain knocked, and at her bidding -entered. "Lady, the gallant page has returned: how he entered I know -not." - -"He is unharmed?" - -"Scatheless, by the favour of God and St. Martin." - -"Let him enter at once." - -And Alain appeared. - -"My gallant squire, how hast thou fared? I feared for thee." - -"They keep bad watch. A rope lowered me to the stream: I crossed, and -seeking covered ways, gat me to Iffley, and in like fashion returned. I -bear good news, lady! Thy gallant brother of Gloucester, and the Prince, -thy son, have landed in England, and will meet thee at Wallingford." - -"Thank God!" said Maude. "My Henry, my royal boy, I shall see thee -again. With such hope to cheer a mother's heart, I can dare anything. -Well hast thou earned our thanks, my Alain, my gallant squire." - -"The Lord of Wallingford will send a troop of horse to scout on the road -between Abingdon and Oxford to-morrow night, the Eve of St. Thomas." - -"We will meet them if it be possible--if it be in human power." - -"The river is free--all other roads are blocked." - -"But hast thou considered the difficulties of descent?" - -"They are great, lady: it was easy for me to descend by the rope, but -for thee, alas, that my queen should need such expedients!" - -"It is better than starvation. We are reduced to the bones, as thou -seest; but thou art hungry and faint. Let me order a basin of this -_savoury_ stew for thee; it is all we have to offer." - -"What is good enough for my Empress and Queen, is good enough for her -faithful servants; but I may not eat in thy presence." - -"Nay, scruple not; famine effaces distinctions." - -Thus encouraged, Alain did not allow his scruples to interfere further -with his appetite, and partook heartily of the stew of bones, in which, -forsooth, the water and meal were in undue proportion to the meat. - -The meal despatched, the Empress sent Alain to summon the Earl of -Oxford, Robert d'Oyley, to her presence. He was informed of the arrival -of the Earl and the Prince, and the plan of escape was discussed. - -All the ordinary avenues of the castle were watched so closely that -extraordinary expedients were necessary, and the only feasible mode of -escape appeared to be the difficult road which Alain had used -successfully, both in leaving and returning to the beleaguered fortress. - -A branch of the Isis washed the walls of the tower. It was frozen hard. -To descend by ropes upon it in the darkness, and cross to the opposite -side of the stream, appeared the only mode of egress. - -But for a lady--the Lady of England--was it possible? was it not utterly -unworthy of her dignity? - -She put this objection aside like a cobweb. - -"Canst thou hold out the castle much longer?" - -"At the most, another week; our provisions are nearly exhausted. This -was our last meal of flesh, of which I see the bones before me," replied -the Lord of Oxford. - -"Then if I remain, thou must still surrender?" - -"Surrender is _inevitable_, lady." - -"Then sooner would I infringe my dignity by dangling from a rope, than -become the prisoner of the foul usurper Stephen, and the laughing-stock -of his traitorous barons." - -"Sir Ingelric of Huntercombe, and two other knights, besides thy gallant -page, volunteer to accompany thee, lady." - -"And for thyself?" - -"I must remain to the last, and share the fortunes of my vassals. -Without me, they would find scant mercy from the usurpers." - -"Then, to-morrow night, ere the moon rise, the attempt shall be made." - -And the conference broke up. - - ---- - -It was a night of wildering snow, dark and gloomy. The soft, dry, -powdery material found its way in at each crevice, and the wind made the -tapestry, which hung on the walls of the presence chamber of the "Lady -Maude," oscillate to and fro with each blast. - -Robert d'Oyley was alone in deep consultation with his royal mistress. - -"Then if I can escape, thou wilt surrender?" - -"Nought else is to be done; we are starving." - -"They will burn the castle." - -"There is little to burn, and I hardly think they will attempt that: it -will be useful to them, when in their hands." - -"It is near the midnight hour: the attempt must be made. Now summon -young Alain and my faithful knights." - -They entered at the summons, each clothed in fine mail, with a white -tunic above it. The Empress bid adieu to her handmaidens, who had clad -her in a thick white cloak to match: they wept and wailed, but she -gently chid them-- - -"We have suffered worse things: the coffin and hearse in which we left -Devizes was more ghastly; and God will give an end to these troubles -also: fear not, we are prepared to go through with it." - -A small door was opened in the thickness of the wall; it led to the -roof, over a lower portion of the buildings beneath the shadow of the -tower; and the knights, with Alain and their lady, stood on the -snow-covered summit. - -Not long did they hesitate. The river beneath was frozen hard; it lay -silent and still in its ice-bound sepulchre. The darkness was penetrated -by the light of the watch-fires in all directions: they surrounded the -town on all sides, save the one they had not thought it necessary to -guard against. There was a fire and doubtless a watch over the bridge, -which stood near the actual site of the present Folly Bridge. There was -a watch across Hythe Bridge; there was another on the ruins of the -castle mill, which Earl Algar had held, under the Domesday survey; -another at the principal entrance of the castle, which led from the -city. But the extreme cold of the night had driven the majority of the -besiegers to seek shelter in the half-ruined churches, which, long -attuned to the sweet melody of bells and psalmody, had now become the -bivouacs of profane soldiers. - -The Countess Edith, the wife of Robert d'Oyley, now appeared, shivering -in the keen air, and took an affectionate leave of the Empress, while -her teeth chattered the while. A true woman, she shared her husband's -fortunes for weal or woe, and had endured the horrors of the siege. -Ropes were brought--Alain glided down one to the ice, and held it firm. -Another rope was passed beneath the armpits of the Lady Maude. She -grasped another in her gloved hand, to steady her descent. - -"Farewell, true and trusty friend," she said to Robert of Oxford; "had -all been as faithful as thou, I had never been brought to this pass; if -they hurt thy head, they shall pay with a life for every hair it -contains." - -Then she stepped over the battlements. - -For one moment she gave a womanly shudder at the sight of the blackness -below; then yielding herself to the care of her trusty knights and -shutting her eyes, she was lowered safely to the surface of the frozen -stream, while young Alain steadied the rope below. At last her feet -touched the ice. - -"Am I on the ground?" - -"On the ice, Domina." - -One after another the three knights followed her, and they descended the -stream until it joined the main river at a farm called "The Wick," which -formerly belonged to one Ermenold, a citizen of Oxford, immortalised in -the abbey records of Abingdon for his munificence to that community. - -Now they had crossed the main channel in safety, not far below the -present railway bridge, and landing, struck out boldly for the outskirts -of Bagley, where the promised escort was to have met them. But in the -darkness and the snow, they lost their direction, and came at last over -the frozen fields to Kennington, where they indistinctly saw two or -three lights through the fast-falling snow, but dared not approach them, -fearing foes. - -Vainly they strove to recover the track. The country was all alike--all -buried beneath one ghastly winding-sheet. The snow still fell; the air -was calm and keen; the breath froze on the mufflers of the lady. Onward -they trudged, for to hesitate was death; once or twice that ghastly -inclination to lie down and sleep was felt. - -"If I could only lie down for one half hour!" said Maude. - -"You would never wake again, lady," said Bertram of Wallingford; "we -_must_ move on." - -"Nay, I must sleep." - -"For thy son's sake," whispered Alain; and she persevered. - -"Ah! here is the river; take care." - -They had nearly fallen into a diversion of the stream at Sandford; but -they followed the course of the river, until they reached Radley, and -then they heard the distant bell of the famous abbey ringing for Matins, -which were said in the small hours of the night. - -Here they found some kind of track made by the passage of cattle, which -had been driven towards the town, and followed it until they saw the -lights of the abbey dimly through the gloom. - -Spent, exhausted with their toil, they entered the precincts of the -monastery, on the bed of the stream which, diverging from the main -course a mile above the town, turned the abbey mills and formed one of -its boundaries. Thus they avoided detention at the gateway of the town, -for they ascended from the stream within the monastery "pleasaunce." - -The grand church loomed out of the darkness; its windows were dimly -lighted. The Matins of St. Thomas were being sung, and the solemn -strains reached the ears of the weary travellers outside. The outer door -of the nave was unfastened, for the benefit of the laity, who cared more -for devotion than their beds, like the mother of the famous St. Edmund, -Archbishop of Canterbury, a century later, who used to attend these -Matins nightly. - -Our present party entered from a different motive. It was a welcome -shelter, and they sank upon an oaken bench within the door, while the -solemn sound of the Gregorian psalmody rolled on in the choir. Alain -meanwhile hastened to the hospitium to seek aid for the royal guest; -which he was told he would find in a hostel outside the gates, for -although they allowed female attendance at worship, they could not -entertain women; it was contrary to their rule--royal although the guest -might be. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[19] The historical course of events during these two years may be -briefly summed up. The English at first embraced the cause of Maude with -alacrity, because of her descent from their ancient monarchs, and so did -most of the barons. A dire civil war followed, in which multitudes of -freebooters from abroad, under the name of "free lances," took part in -either side. Hereford, Gloucester, Bristol, Oxford, Wallingford--all -became centres of Maude's power; and at last, at the great battle of -Lincoln--the only great battle during the miserable chaos of -strife--Stephen became her prisoner. - -Then she had nearly gained the crown: Henry, Bishop of Winchester, Papal -legate and brother of Stephen, joined her cause, and received her as -Queen at Winchester. The wife of King Stephen begged her husband's -liberty on her knees, promising that he should depart from the kingdom -and become a monk. But Maude was hard-hearted, and spurned her from her -presence, rejecting, to her own great detriment, the prayer of the -suppliant; and not only did she do this, but she also refused the -petition of Henry of Winchester, that the foreign possessions of Stephen -might pass to his son Eustace. In consequence, the Bishop abandoned her -cause, and Maude found that she had dashed the cup of fortune from her -hand by her harsh conduct, which at last became past bearing. She -refused the Londoners the confirmation of their ancient charters, -because they had submitted to the rule of Stephen; whereupon they rose, -_en masse_, against her, and drove her from the city. She hastened to -Winchester, but the Bishop followed, and drove her thence; and in the -flight Robert, Earl of Gloucester was captured. He was exchanged for -Stephen, both leaders were at liberty and the detestable strife began, -_de novo_. - -Then Maude took up her abode at Oxford, where Stephen came and besieged -her, as related in the text. - -[20] Maude did not venture to call herself Queen, but signed her deeds -Domina or Lady of England. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -AFTER THE ESCAPE - - -Meanwhile Brian Fitz-Count himself, with Osric by his side and a dozen -horsemen, rode to and fro on the road to Oxford, which passed through -the forest of Bagley; for to halt in the cold was impossible, and to -kindle a fire might attract the attention of foes, as well as of -friends. How they bore that weary night may not be told, but they were -more accustomed to such exposure than we are in these days. - -Again and again did Brian question Osric concerning the interview with -Alain, but of course to no further purpose; and they might have remained -till daylight had not they taken a shepherd, who was out to look after -his sheep, and brought him before the Count, pale and trembling, for it -was often death to the rustics to be seized by the armed bands. - -"Hast thou seen any travellers this night?" - -"I have, my lord, but they were not of this earth." - -"What then, fool?" - -"They were the ghosts of the slain, five of them, all in white, coming -up from the river, where the fight was a month agone." - -"And what didst thou do?" - -"Hid myself." - -"Where were they going?" - -"Towards Abingdon." - -"Men or women?" - -"One was muffled up like a lady; the others were like men, but all in -white." - -"My lord," interrupted Osric, "I bore thy recommendation that they -should wear white garments, the better to escape observation in the -snow, and Alain promised me that such precaution should be taken: no -doubt the shepherd has seen them." - -"Which way were the ghosts going, shepherd?" - -"They were standing together, when all at once the boom of the abbey -bell came through the air from Abingdon, and then they made towards the -town, to seek their graves, for there many of the slain were buried." - -"_Requiescant in pace_," said Osric. - -"Peace, Osric; do not you know that if you pray for a living man or -woman as if they were dead, you hasten their demise?" said Brian -sarcastically. "Let the old fool go, and we will wend our weary way to -the abbey. They give sanctuary to either party." - -The snow ceased to fall about this time, and a long line of vivid red -appeared low down in the east: the snow caught the tinge of the coming -day, and was reddened like blood. - -"One would think there had been a mighty battle there, my squire." - -"It reminds me of the field of Armageddon, of which I heard the Chaplain -talk. I wonder whether it will come soon." - -"Dost thou believe in all those priestly pratings?" - -"My grandfather taught me to do so." - -"And the rough life of a castle has not yet made thee forget his -homilies?" - -"No," sighed Osric. - -The sigh touched the hardened man. - -"If he has faith, why should I destroy it?" Then he added as if almost -against his will-- - -"Keep thy faith; I would I shared it." - -The fortifications of the town, the castle on the Oxford road, the -gateway hard by, came in sight at the next turn of the road, but Brian -avoided them, and sought a gate lower down which admitted to the abbey -precincts, where he was not so likely to be asked inconvenient -questions. - -He bade one of his men ring the bell. - -The porter looked forth. - -"What manner of men are ye?" - -"Travellers lost in the snow come to seek the hospitality prescribed by -the rule of St. Benedict." - -"Enter," and the portal yawned: no names were asked, no political -distinctions recognised. - -They stood in the outer quadrangle of the hoar abbey, the stronghold of -Christianity in Wessex for five centuries past; and well had it -performed its task, and well had it deserved of England. Founded so long -ago that its origin was even then lost in conflicting traditions, -surviving wave after wave of war, burnt by the Danes, remodelled by the -Normans--yet this hoary island of prayer stood in the stream of time -unchanged in all its main features, and, as men thought, destined to -stand till the archangel's trump sounded the knell of time. - - - "They built in marble, built as they - Who thought these stones should see the day - When Christ should come; and that these walls - Should stand o'er them when judgment calls." - - -Alas, poor monks, and alas for the country which lost the most glorious -of her architectural riches, the most august of her fanes, through the -greed of one generation! - -"Have any other travellers sought shelter here during the night?" - -"Five--a lady and four knights." - -"Where be they?" - -"The lady is lodged in a house without the eastern gate; the others are -in the guest-house, where thou mayst join them." - -Have my readers ever seen the outer quadrangle of Magdalene College? It -is not unlike the square of buildings in which the Baron and his -followers now stood. On three sides the monastic buildings, with -cloisters looking upon a green sward, wherein a frozen fountain was -surmounted by a cross; on the other, the noble church, of which almost -all trace is lost. - -In the hospitium or guest-house Brian found Sir Ingelric of Huntercombe, -with Alain and the other attendants upon the lady's flight. They met -with joy, and seated before a bright fire which burned upon the hearth, -learned the story of each other's adventures on that gruesome night, -which, however, had ended well. Osric had gone in charge of the horses -to some stables outside the gates, which opened upon the market-place, -but he now returned, and Alain greeted him warmly. - -Soon the _dejeuner_ or breakfast was served, of which the chief feature -was good warm soup, very acceptable after the night they had passed -through. Scarcely was it over when the bells rang for the High Mass of -St. Thomas's Day. - -"Yes, we must all go," said Brian, "out of compliment to our hosts, if -for no better reason." - -They entered the church, of which the nave and transepts were open to -the general public, while the choir, as large as that of a cathedral -church, was reserved for the monks alone. The service was grand and -solemn: it began with a procession, during which holy water was -sprinkled over the congregation, while the monks sang-- - - - "Asperges me hyssopo et mundabor, - Lava me, et super nivem dealbabor." - - -Then followed the chanted Mass at the High Altar. There were gleaming -lights, gorgeous vestments, clouds of incense. All the symbolism of an -age when the worship of the English people was richer in ceremonial than -that of Continental nations was there. It impressed the minds of rude -warriors who could neither read nor write with the sense of a mysterious -world, other than their own--of dread realities and awful powers beyond -the reach of mortal warfare. If it appealed rather to the imagination -than the reason, yet it may be thought, it thereby reached its mark the -more surely. The Church was still the salt of the earth, which preserved -the whole mass from utter corruption, and in a world of violence and -wrong, pointed to a land of peace and joy beyond this transitory scene. - -So felt Osric, and his eyes filled with tears as emotions he could -hardly analyse stirred his inmost soul. - -And Brian--well, he was as a man who views his natural face in a glass, -and going away, forgets what manner of man he was. - - ---- - -After Mass the Empress Maude greeted her dear friend and faithful -follower Brian Fitz-Count with no stinted welcome. She almost fell upon -his shoulder, proud woman though she was, and wept, when assured she -should soon see her son, Prince Henry, at Wallingford, for she was but a -woman after all. - -She insisted upon an interview with the Abbot, from which Brian would -fain have dissuaded her, but she took the bit in her teeth. - -After a while that dignitary came, and bowed gracefully, but not low. - -"Dost thou know, lord Abbot, whom thou hast entertained?" - -"Perchance an Angel unawares: all mortals are equal within the Church's -gate." - -"Thy true Queen, who will not forget thy hospitality." - -"Nor would King Stephen, did he know that we had shown it, lady. I -reverence thy lofty birth, and wish thee well for the sake of thy -father, who was a great benefactor to this poor house: further I cannot -say; we know nought of earthly politics here--our citizenship is above." - -She did not appreciate his doctrines, but turned to Brian. - -"Have we any gold to leave as a benefaction in return for this -hospitality; it will purchase a Mass, which, doubtless, we need in these -slippery times, when it is difficult always to walk straight." - -Brian drew forth his purse. - -"Lady, it needs not," said the Abbot; "thou art welcome, so are all the -unfortunate, rich or poor, who suffer in these cruel wars, to which may -God soon give an end." - -"Lay the blame, lord Abbot, on the usurper then, and pray for his -overthrow; but for him I should have ruled as my father did, with -justice and equity. If thou wishest for peace, pray for our speedy -restoration to our rightful throne. Farewell." - - ---- - -So the Empress and her train departed, and crossing the river at Culham, -made for the distant hills of Synodune, across a country where the snow -had obliterated nearly all the roads, and even covered the hedges and -fences. So that they were forced to travel very slowly, and at times -came to a "standstill." - -However, they surmounted all difficulties; and travelling along the -crest of the hills, where the wind had prevented the accumulation of -much snow, they reached Wallingford in safety, amidst the loudest of -loud rejoicings, where they were welcomed by Maude d'Oyley, Lady of -Wallingford--the sister of the Lord of Oxford and wife of Brian. - -How shall we relate the festivities of that night? it seems like telling -an old tale: how the tables groaned with the weight of the feast, as in -the old ballad of Imogene; how the minstrels and singers followed after, -and none recked of the multitude of captives who already crowded the -dismal dungeons beneath. Some prisoners taken in fair fight, some with -less justice prisoners held to ransom, their sole crime being wealth; -others from default of tribute paid to Brian, be it from ill-will or -only from want of means. - -But of these poor creatures the gay feasters above thought not. The -contrast between the awful vaults and cells below, and the gay and -lighted chambers above, was cruel, but they above recked as little as -the giddy children who play in a churchyard think of the dead beneath -their feet. - -"My lady," said Brian, "we shall keep our Christmas yet more merrily, -for on the Eve we hope to welcome thy right trusty brother of Gloucester -and thy gallant son." - -The mother's eyes sparkled. - -"My good and trusty subject," she said, "how thou dost place me under -obligations beyond my power to repay?" - -"Nay, my queen, all I have is thine, for thy own and thy royal father's -sake, who was to me a father indeed." - -The festivities were not prolonged to a very late hour; nature must have -its way, and the previous night had been a most trying one, as our -readers are well aware. That night was a night of deep repose. - -On the following day came the news that Oxford Castle had surrendered, -and that Robert d'Oyley, lord thereof, was prisoner to Stephen; it was -at first supposed that the king would follow his rival to Wallingford, -but he preferred keeping his Christmas in the castle he had taken. -Wallingford was a hard nut to crack. - - ---- - -It was Christmas Eve, and the Empress stood by the side of the lord of -the castle, on the watch-towers; the two squires, Alain and Osric, -waited reverently behind. - -The scenery around has already been described in our opening chapter. -The veil of winter was over it, but the sun shone brightly, and its -beams glittered on the ice of the river and the snow-clad country -beyond: one only change there was--the forts on the Crowmarsh side of -the stream, erected in a close of the parish of Crowmarsh--then and now -called Barbican; they were so strong as to be deemed impregnable, and -were now held against Brian by the redoubtable Ranulph, Earl of Chester. -The garrisons of the two fortresses, so near each other, preyed in turn -on the country around, and fought wherever they met--to keep their hands -in; but they were now keeping "The Truce of God," in honour of -Christmas. - -"It is a lovely day. May it be the harbinger of better fortune," said -Maude. "When do you think they will arrive?" - -"They slept at Reading Abbey last night, so there is little doubt they -will be here very soon." - -"If they started early they might be in sight now: ah, God and St. Mary -be praised! there they be. Is not that their troop along the road?" - -A band, with streamlets gay and pennons fair, was indeed approaching the -gates of the town from the south, by the road which led from Reading, -along the southern bank of the Thames. - -"To horse! to horse!" said the Empress; "let us fly to meet them." - -"Nay, my liege, they will be here anon--almost before our horses could -be caparisoned to appear in fit state before the citizens of my town." -The fact was, Brian had a soldier's dislike of a scene, and would fain -get the meeting over within the walls. - -And the royal mother contented herself with standing on the steps of the -great hall to receive her gallant son, Henry Plantagenet, the future -King of England, destined to restore peace to the troubled land, but -whose sun was to set in such dark clouds, owing to his quarrel with the -Church, and the cruel misbehaviour of his faithless wife and rebellious -sons. - -But we must not anticipate. The gallant boy was at hand, and his mother -clasped him to the maternal breast: "so greatly comforted," said the -chronicler, "that she forgot all the troubles and mortifications she had -endured, for the joy she had of his presence." Then she turned to her -right trusty brother, and wept on his neck. - -The following day was the birthday of the "Prince of Peace," and these -children of war kept it in right honour. They attended Mass at the -Church of St. Mary's in the town in great state, and afterwards -banqueted in the Castle hall with multitudes of guests. Meanwhile -Ranulph, Earl of Chester, had returned home to keep the feast; but his -representatives kept it right well, and the two parties actually sent -presents to each other, and wished mutual good cheer. - - ---- - -The feast was over, and the maskers dropped their masks, and turned to -the business of life in right earnest--that was war, only war. The -Empress Maude, with her son, under the care of her brother, shortly left -Wallingford for Bristol, where the young prince remained for four years, -under the care of his uncle, who had brought him up. - -But all around the flames of war broke out anew, and universal bloodshed -returned. It was a mere gory chaos: no great battles, no decisive blows; -only castle against castle, all through the land, as at Wallingford and -Crowmarsh. Each baron delved the soil for his dungeons, and raised his -stern towers to heaven. All was pillage and plunder; men fought wherever -they met; every man's hand was against every man; peaceful villages were -burnt daily; lone huts, isolated farms, were no safer; merchants -scarcely dared to travel, shops to expose their wares; men refused to -till the fields for others to reap; and they said that God and His -Saints were fast asleep. The land was filled with death; corpses rotted -by the sides of the roads; women and children took sanctuary in the -churches and churchyards, to which they removed their valuables. But the -bands of brigands and murderers, who, like vultures, scented the quarry -afar, and crowded from all parts of the Continent into England--unhappy -England--as to a prey delivered over into their hands, did not always -respect sanctuary. Famine followed; men had nought to eat; it was even -said that they ate the bodies of the dead like cannibals. Let us hope -this ghastly detail is untrue, but we do not feel _sure_ it is; the -pangs of hunger are so dreadful to bear. - -Then came pestilence in the train of famine, and claimed its share of -victims. And so the weary years went on--twelve long years of misery and -woe. - -Summer had come--hot and dry. There had been no rain for a month. It -was the beginning of July, in the year 1142. Fighting was going on in -England in general; at Wilton, near Salisbury, in particular. The king -was there: he had turned the nunnery of that place into a castle, -driving out the holy sisters, and all the flock of the wounded and poor -to whom, with earnest piety, they were ministering. The king put up -bulwark and battlement, and thought he had done well, when on the 1st of -July came Robert of Gloucester from Bristol, and sat down before the -place to destroy it. - -The king and his brother--the Papal legate, the fighting Bishop of -Winchester, the turncoat--were both there, and after a desperate -defence, were forced to escape by a secret passage, and fly by night. -Their faithful seneschal, William Martel, Lord of Shirburne, and a great -enemy and local rival of Brian, remained behind to protract the defence, -and engage the attention of the besiegers until his king had had time to -get far enough away with his affectionate brother Henry; and his -self-devotion was not in vain, but he paid for it by the loss of his own -liberty. He was taken prisoner after a valiant struggle, and sent to -Wallingford, to be under the custody of Brian Fitz-Count, his enemy and -rival. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -LIFE AT WALLINGFORD CASTLE - - -In sketching the life of a mediaeval castle, we have dwelt too much upon -the brighter side of the picture. There was a darker one, contrasting -with the outward pomp and circumstance as the dungeons with the gay -halls above. - -What then was the interior of those dark towers, which we contemplate -only in their ruined state? Too often, the surrounding peasants looked -at them with affright: the story of Blue-Beard is not a mere tale, it is -rather a veritable tradition: what was the lord to his vassals, whom his -own wife regarded with such great fear? We know one of the brood by the -civil process issued against him--Gilles de Retz--the torturer of -children. It has been said that the "Front de Boeuf" of Sir Walter Scott -is but a poor creature, a feeble specimen of what mediaeval barons could -be. A more terrible portrait has been given in recent days by -Erckmann-Chatrian, in their story, _The Forest House_. - -And such, we regret to say, by degrees did Brian Fitz-Count become. Few -men can stand the test of absolute power, and the power of a mediaeval -lord was almost absolute in his own domain. - -And the outbreak of civil war, by loosening the bonds of society, gave -him the power of doing this, so that it was soon said that Wallingford -Castle was little better than a den of brigands. - -The very construction of these old castles, so far as one can see them, -tells us far more than books can: men-at-arms, pages, valets, all were -shut in for the night, sleeping in common in those vaulted apartments. -The day summoned them to the watch-towers and battlements, where they -resembled the eagle or hawk, soaring aloft in hope of seeing their -natural prey. - -Nor was it often long before some convoy of merchandise passing along -the high road, some well appointed travellers or the like, tempted them -forth on their swift horses, lance in hand, to cry like the modern -robber, "Your money or your life," or in sober truth, to drag their -prisoners to their dungeons, and hold them to ransom, in default of -which they amused themselves by torturing them. - -Such inmates of the castles were only happy when they got out upon their -adventures--and as in the old fable of "The Frogs and the Boys,"--what -was sport to them was death to their neighbours. - - -It was eventide, the work of the day was over, and Brian was taking -counsel with Malebouche, who had risen by degrees to high command -amongst the troopers, although unknighted. Osric was present, and sat in -an embrasure of the window. - -"A good day's work, Malebouche," said Brian; "that convoy of merchandise -going from Reading to Abingdon was a good prize--our halls will be the -better for their gauds, new hangings of tapestry, silks, and the like; -but as we are deficient in women to admire them, I would sooner have had -their value in gold." - -"There is this bag of rose nobles, which we took from the body of the -chief merchant." - -"Well, it will serve as an example to others, who travel by by-roads to -avoid paying me tribute, and rob me of my dues. Merchants from Reading -have tried to get to Abingdon by that road over Cholsey Hill before." - -"They will hardly try again if they hear of this." - -"At least these will not--you have been too prompt with them; did any -escape?" - -"I think not; my fellows lanced them as they fled, which was the fate -of all, as we were well mounted, save a lad who stumbled and fell, and -they hung him in sport for the sake of variety. They laughed till the -tears stood in their eyes at his quaint grimaces."[21] - -Brian did not seem to heed this pleasant story. Osric moved uneasily in -his seat, but strove to repress feelings which, after all, were less -troublesome than of yore; all at once he spied a sight which drove -merchants and all from his mind. - -"My lord, here is Alain." - -"Where?" - -"Just dismounting in the courtyard." - -"Call to him to come up at once; he will have news from Wilton." - -Osric leant out of the narrow window, which in summer was always open. - -"Alain! Alain!" he cried, "come up hither, my lord is impatient for your -tidings." - -Alain waved back a friendly greeting and hurried up the stairs. - -"Joy, my Lord, joy; thine enemy is in thy hands." - -"Which one, my squire? I have too many enemies to remember all." - -"William Martel, Lord of Shirburne." - -"Ah, now we shall get Shirburne!" cried Osric. - -"Silence, boys!" roared Brian; "now tell me all: where he was taken, and -what has become of him." - -"He was taken by Earl Robert at Wilton, and will be here in an hour; you -may see him from the battlements now. The good Earl has sent him to you -to keep in durance, and sent me to command the escort: I only left them -on the downs--they are descending the hills even now; I galloped forward -to 'bring the good news.'" - -"By our Lady, I am indeed happy. Alain, here is a purse of rose nobles -for thee; poor as I am, thy news are all too good. Send the gaolers to -me; have a good dark dungeon prepared; we must humble his spirits." - -"We are getting too full below, my lord." - -"Orders are given for another set to be dug out at once, the architect -only left me to-day; it is to be called Cloere Brien--or Brian's Close, -and the first guest shall be William Martel; there shall he rot till he -deliver up Shirburne and all its lands to me in perpetuity. The Castle -of Shirburne is one of the keys of the Chilterns." - -"Now, my lord, they are in sight--look!" - -And from the windows they saw a troop of horse approaching Wallingford, -over Cholsey Common. - -"Let us don our robes of state to meet them," said Brian; and he threw -on a mantle over his undress; then he descended, followed by his two -pages, and paced the battlements, till the trumpets were blown which -announced the arrival of the cortege. - -Brian showed no womanly curiosity to feast his eyes with the sight of a -captive he was known to hate, but repaired to the steps of the great -hall, and stood there, Alain on one side, Osric on the other; and soon -the leading folk in the castle collected about them. - -The troop of horse trotted over the three drawbridges, and drew rein in -front of the Baron; then wheeling to right and left, disclosed their -prisoner. - -"I salute thee, William Martel, Lord of Shirburne; my poor castle is too -much honoured by thy presence." - -"Faith, thou mayst well say so," said the equally proud and fierce -captive. "I take it thou hast had few prisoners before higher in rank -than the wretched Jews you torture for their gold; but I trust you know -how to treat a noble." - -"That indeed we do, especially one like thyself; not that we are -overawed by thy grandeur; the castle which has entertained thy rightful -sovereign may be quite good enough for thee. Companions thou shalt have, -if but the toad and adder; light enough to make darkness visible, until -such time as thy ransom be paid, or thou submit to thy true Queen." - -"To Henry's unworthy child--never. Name thy ransom." - -"The Castle of Shirburne and all things pertaining thereto." - -"Never shall it be thine." - -"Then here shalt thou rot. Tustain, prepare a chamber--one of the -dungeons in the north tower, until a more suitable one be builded. And -meanwhile it may please thee to learn that we purpose a ride to look at -your Shirburne folk, and see the lands which shall be ours; this very -night we may light a bonfire or two to amuse them." - -And they led the captive away. - -Now lest this should be thought a gross exaggeration, it may as well be -said that the ungovernable savagery of this contest, the violent -animosities engendered, did lead the nobility so called, the very chief -of the land, to forget their chivalry, and treat their foes, not after -the fashion of the Black Prince and his captive, the King of France, but -in the brutal fashion we have described. - -And probably Brian would have fared just as badly at William Martel's -hands, had their positions been reversed. - -"Trumpeter, blow the signal to horse; let the Brabanters prepare to -ride, and the Black Troopers of Ardennes--the last comers. We will ride -to-night, Alain. Art thou too wearied to go with us?" - -"Nay, my lord, ready and willing." - -"And Osric--it will refresh thee; we start in half an hour--give the -horses corn." - -In half an hour they all rode over a new bridge of boats lower down the -stream, and close under the ordnance of the castle,[22] for the forts at -Crowmarsh commanded the lower Bridge of Stone. They were full three -hundred in number--very miscellaneous in composition. There was a new -troop of a hundred Brabanters; another of so-called Free Companions, -numbering nearly the same. Scarce a hundred were Englishmen, in any -sense of the word, neither Anglo-Norman nor Anglo-Saxon--foreigners with -no more disposition to pity the unfortunate natives than the buccaneers -of later date had to pity the Spaniards, or even the shark to pity the -shrinking flesh he snaps at. - -Just before reaching Bensington, which paid tribute to both sides, and -was exempt from fire and sword from either Wallingford or Crowmarsh, a -troop from the latter place came in sight. - -Trumpets were blown on both sides, stragglers recalled into line, and -the two bodies of horsemen charged each other with all the glee of two -bodies of football players in modern times, and with little more thought -or care. - -But the Wallingford men were strongest, and after a brief struggle the -Crowmarsh troopers were forced to fly. They were not pursued: Brian had -other business in hand; it was a mere friendly charge. - -Only struggling on the ground were some fifty men and horses, wounded or -dying, and not a few dead. - -Brian looked after Osric with anxiety. - -The youth's bright face was flushed with delight and animation. He was -returning a reddened sword to the scabbard; he had brought down his man, -cleaving him to the chine, himself unhurt. - -Brian smiled grimly. - -"Now for Alain," he said; "ah, there he is pursuing these Crowmarsh -fellows. We have no time to waste--sound the recall, now onward, for the -Chilterns." - -Alain rejoined them. - -"Thou art wasting time." - -"My foe fled; Osric has beaten me to-day." - -"Plenty of opportunity for redressing the wrong--now onward." - -They passed through Bensington. The gates--for every large village had -its walls and gates as a matter of necessity--opened and shut for them -in grim silence; they did no harm there. They passed by the wood -afterwards called "Rumbold's Copse," and then got into the territory of -Shirburne, for so far as Britwell did William Martel exact tribute, and -offer such protection as he was able. - -From this period all was havoc and destruction--all one grim scene of -fire and carnage. They fired every rick, every barn, every house; they -slew everything they met. - -And Osric was as bad as the rest--we do not wonder at Alain. - -Then they reached Watlington, "the wattled town," situated in a hollow -of the hills. Its gates were secured, and it was surrounded by a ditch, -a mound, and the old British defence of wattles, or stakes pointed -outwards. - -Here they paused. - -"It is too strong to be taken by assault," said the Baron. "Osric, go to -the gate with just half a dozen, who have English tongues in their -heads, and ask for shelter and hospitality." - -Osric, to his credit, hesitated. - -Brian reddened--he could not bear the lad he loved to take a more moral -tone than himself. - -"Must I send Alain?" - -Osric went, and feigning to be belated, asked admittance, but he did not -act it well. - -"Who are you? whence do ye come? what mean the fires we see?" - -"Alain, go and help him; he cannot tell a fair lie," said Brian. - -Alain arriving, made answer, "The men of Wallingford are out--we are -flying from Britwell for our lives--haste or they will overtake us--we -are only a score." - -The poor fools opened, and were knocked on the head at once for their -pains. - -The whole band now galloped up and rushed in. - -"Fire every house. After you have plundered them all, if you find mayor -and burgesses, take them for ransom; slay the rest." - -The scene which followed was shocking; but in this wretched reign it -might be witnessed again and again all over England. But many things -shocked Osric afterwards when he had time to think. - -Enough of this. We have only told what we have told because it is -essential to the plot of our story, that the scenes should be understood -which caused so powerful a reaction in Osric--_afterwards_. - -Laden with spoil, with shout and song, the marauders returned from their -raid. Along the road which leads from Watlington to the south, with the -range of the Chilterns looking down from the east, and the high land -which runs from Rumbold's Copse to Brightwell Salome on the west, they -drove their cattle and carried their plunder; whilst they recounted -their murderous exploits, and made night hideous with the defiant bray -of trumpets and their discordant songs. - -And so in the fire and excitement of the moment the sufferings of the -poor natives were easily forgotten, or served to the more violent and -cruel as zest to their enjoyment. - -Was it so with our Osric? Could the grandson of Sexwulf, the heir of a -line of true Englishmen, so forget the lessons of his boyhood? Alas, my -reader, such possibilities lurk in our fallen nature! - - - "Ah, when shall come the time - When war shall be no more? - When lust, oppression, crime, - Shall flee Thy Face before?" - - -We must wait until the advent of the Prince of Peace. - -They got back to Wallingford at last. The gates were opened, there was a -scene of howling excitement, and then they feasted and drank until the -small hours of the night; after which they went to bed, three or four in -one small chamber, and upon couches of the hardest--in recesses of the -wall, or sometimes placed, like the berths of a ship, one over the -other--the robbers slept. - -For in what respect were they better than modern highwaymen or pirates? - -Osric and Alain lay in the same chamber. - -"How hast thou enjoyed the day, Osric?" - -"Capitally, but I am worn out." - -"You will not sleep so soundly even now as the fellow you brought down -so deftly in that first skirmish. You have got your hand in at last." - -Osric smiled with gratified vanity--he was young and craved such glory. - -"Good-night, Alain." He could hardly articulate the words from fatigue, -and Alain had had even a harder day. - -They slept almost as soundly as the dead they had left behind them; no -spectres haunted them and disturbed their repose; conscience was -hardened, scarred as with a hot iron, but her time was yet to come for -Osric. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[21] Rien de plus gai que nos vieux contes--ils n'ont que trois -plaisanteries--le desespoir du mari, les cris du battu, la grimace du -pendu: au troisieme la gaiete est au comble, on se tient les -cotes.--_Michelet._ - -[22] _i.e._ Mangonels, arbalasts, and the like. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -BROTHER ALPHEGE - - -From the abode of strife and turmoil to the home of peace, from the -house of the world to the house of religion, from the Castle of -Wallingford to the Abbey of Dorchester, do we gladly conduct our -readers, satiated, we doubt not, with scenes of warfare. - -What wonder, when the world was given up to such scenes, that men and -women, conscious of higher aspirations, should fly to the seclusion of -the monastic life, afar from - - - "Unloving souls with deeds of ill, - And words of angry strife." - - -And what a blessing for that particular age that there were such -refuges, thickly scattered throughout the land--veritable cities of -refuge. It was not the primary idea of these orders that they should be -benevolent institutions, justifying their existence by the service -rendered to the commonwealth. The primary idea was the service of God, -and the salvation of the particular souls, who fled from a world lying -in wickedness and the shadow of death, to take sweet counsel together, -and walk in the House of God as friends. - -Later on came a _nobler_ conception of man's duty to man; and thence -sprang the active orders, such as the Friars or Sisters of Mercy, as -distinguished from the cloistered or contemplative orders. - -Of course, in the buildings of such a society, the Church was the -principal object--as the ruins of Tintern or Glastonbury show, -overshadowing all the other buildings, dwarfing them into -insignificance. Upon this object all the resources of mediaeval art were -expended. The lofty columns, the mysterious lights and shadows of a -Gothic fane, the sculptures, the statues, the shrines, the rich -vestments, the painted glass--far beyond aught we can produce, the -solemn music,--all this they lavished on the Church as the house of -prayer-- - - - "It is the house of prayer, - Wherein Thy servants meet; - And Thou, O God, art there, - Thy hallowed flock to greet." - - -Here they met seven times daily, to recite their offices, as also at the -midnight office, when only the professed brethren were present. In these -active times men may consider so much time spent in church a great waste -of time, but we cannot judge other generations by our own ideas. A very -sharp line was then drawn between the Church and the world, and they who -chose the former possessed a far greater love for Divine worship than we -see around us now, coupled with a most steadfast belief in its efficacy. -"Blessed are They who dwell in Thy house; they will be alway praising -Thee," was the language of their hearts. - -Here men who had become the subjects of intense grief--from whom death, -perhaps, had removed their earthly solace--the partners of their sorrow -or joy--found refuge when the sun of this world was set. Here, also, -studious men, afar from the clamour and din of arms, preserved for us -the wisdom of the ancients. Here the arts and sciences lived on, when -nought save war filled the minds of men outside. Well has it been said, -that for the learning of the nineteenth century to revile the monastic -system is for the oak to revile the acorn from which it sprang. - -But most of all, when the shadow of a great horror of himself and his -past fell upon a man, how blessed to have such an institution as a -mediaeval monastery wherein to hide the stricken head, and to learn -submission to the Divine Will. - -Such a home had Wulfnoth found at Dorchester Abbey. - -The year of his novitiate had passed, and he had won the favour of his -monastic superiors. We do not say he had always been as humble as a -novice should, or that he never, like Lot's wife, looked back again to -Sodom, but the good had triumphed, and the day came for his election as -a brother. - -Every day after the Chapter Mass which followed Terce, the daily -"Chapter" was held, wherein all matters of discipline were settled, -correction, if needed, administered, novices or brethren admitted by -common consent, and all other weighty business transacted. Here they met -four centuries later, when they affixed their reluctant seal to their -own dissolution, to avoid worse consequences. - -It was here that, after the ordinary business was over, the novice -Alphege, the once sanguinary Wulfnoth, rose with a calm and composed -exterior, but with a beating heart, to crave admission into the order by -taking the life vows. - -The Abbot signed to him to speak. - -"I, Wulfnoth the novice, crave admission to the full privileges and -prayers of the order, by taking the vows for life, as a brother -professed." - -There was silence for a space. - -Then the Abbot spoke-- - -"Hast thou duly considered the solemn step? Canst thou leave the world -behind thee--its friendships and its enmities? and hast thou considered -what hard and stern things we endure?" - -"I have, Father Abbot." - -"And the yet harder and sterner discipline which awaits the -transgressor?" - -"None of these things move me: I am prepared to bear yet harsher and -sterner things, if so be I may save my soul." - -"The Lord Jesus Christ so perform in you what for His love's sake you -promise, that you may have His grace and life eternal." - -"Amen," said all present. - -The rule of the order was then read aloud. - -"Here," said the Abbot, "is the law under which thou desirest to serve: -if thou canst observe it, enter; but if thou canst not, freely depart." - -"I will observe it, God being my helper." - -"Doth any brother know any just cause or impediment why Alphege the -novice should not be admitted to our brotherhood?" - -None was alleged. - -"Do you all admit him to a share in your sacrifices and prayers?" - -The hands were solemnly raised. - -"It is enough: prepare with prayer and fasting for the holy rite," said -the Abbot. - -For there was of course a solemn form of admission into the order yet to -be gone through in the Church, which we have not space to detail. - -It was not necessary that a monk should take Holy Orders, yet it was -commonly done; and dismissing the subject in a few words, we will simply -say that Wulfnoth took deacon's orders after he had taken the life vows, -and later on was ordained priest by Bishop Alexander of Lincoln, -aforesaid. - -His lot in life was now fixed: no longer was he in any danger from the -Lord of Wallingford; nor could he execute vengeance with sword and woe -for the household stricken so sorely by that baron's hands at Compton on -the downs. It was over--he left it all to Him Who once said, "Vengeance -is Mine, I will repay." Nor mindful of his own sins, did he pray for -such vengeance. He _left it_, and strove to pray for Brian. - -One bright day at the close of July the Abbot called him to ride with -him, for the order was not strictly a cloistered one, nor could it -indeed be; they had their landed estates, their tenantry, their farms to -look after. The offices were numerous, of necessity, and it was the -policy of the order to give each monk, if possible, some special duty or -office. Almost all they ate or drank was produced at home. The corn grew -on their own land; they had their own mill; the brethren brewed, baked, -or superintended lay brothers who did so. Other brethren were tailors, -shoemakers for the community; others gardeners; others, as we have seen, -scribes and illuminators; others kept the accounts--no small task.[23] -In short, none led the idle life commonly assigned in popular -estimation. - -They rode forth then, the Abbot Alured and Alphege, the new brother. -First into the town without the gates, far larger then than now, it was -partly surrounded by walls, partly protected by the Rivers Isis and -Tame; but within the space was a crowd of inhabitants dwelling in -houses, or rather huts; dwelling even in tents, like modern gypsies, -crowding the space within the walls, with good reason, for no man's life -was safe in the country, and here was sanctuary! Even Brian Fitz-Count -would respect Dorchester Abbey: even if some marauding baron assailed -the town, there was still the abbey church, or even the precincts for -temporary shelter. - -But food was scarce, and here lay the difficulty. The abbey revenues -were insufficient, for many of the farms had been burnt in the nightly -raids, and rents were ill-paid. Everything was scarce: many a hapless -mother, many a new-born babe, died from sheer want of the things -necessary to save; the strong lived through it, the weak sank under it: -there may have been those who found comfort, and said it was "the -survival of the fittest." - -Day by day was the dole given forth at the abbey gates; day by day the -hospitium was very crowded. The hospitaller was at his wits' end. And -the old infirmarer happening to die just then, folk said, "It was the -worry." - -"Who is sufficient for these things?" said Abbot Alured to his -companion, as they rode through the throng and emerged upon the road -leading to the hamlet of Brudecott (Burcot) and Cliffton (Clifton -Hampden). - -Their dress was a white cassock under a black cloak, with a hood -covering the head and neck and reaching to the shoulders, having under -it breeches, vest, white stockings and shoes; a black cornered cap, not -unlike the college cap of modern days, completed the attire. - -"Tell me, brother," said the Abbot, "what is thy especial vocation? what -office wouldst thou most desire to hold amongst us?" - -"I am little capable of discharging any weighty burden: thou knowest I -have been a man of war." - -"And he who once gave wounds should now learn to heal them. Our brother -the infirmarer has lately departed this life, full of good works--would -not that be the office for thee?" - -"I think I could discharge it better than I could most others." - -"It is well, then it shall be thine; it will be onerous just now. Ah me, -when will these wars be over?" - -"Methinks there was a great fire amongst the Chilterns last night--a -thick cloud of smoke lingers there yet." - -"It is surely Watlington--yes it is Watlington; they have burned it. -What can have chanced? it is under the protection of Shirburne." - -"I marvel we have had none of the people here, to seek hospitality and -aid." - -They arrived now at Brudecott, a hamlet on the Thames. One Nicholas de -Brudecott had held a mansion here, one knight's fee of the Bishop of -Lincoln; but the house had been burnt by midnight marauders. The place -was desolate: on the fields untilled a few poor people lived in huts, -protected by their poverty. - -They rode on to Cliffton, where the Abbot held three "virgates" of land, -with all the farm buildings and utensils for their cultivation; the -latter had escaped devastation, perhaps from the fact it was church -property, although even that was not always respected in those days. - -Upon the rock over the river stood the rustic church. Wulfnoth had often -served it as deacon, attending the priestly monk who said Mass each -Sunday there, for Dorchester took the tithes and did the duty. - -Here they crossed the river by a shallow ford where the bridge now -stands, and rode through Witeham (Wittenham), where the Abbot had -business connected with the monastery. The same desertion of the place -impressed itself upon their minds. Scarcely a living being was seen; -only a few old people, unable to bring themselves to forsake their -homes, lingered about half-ruined cottages. The parish priest yet lived -in the tower of the church, unwilling to forsake his flock, although -half the village was in ruins, and nearly all the able-bodied had taken -refuge in the towns. - -They were on the point of crossing the ford beneath Synodune Hill, -situated near the junction of Tame and Isis, when the Abbot suddenly -conceived the desire of ascending the hills and viewing the scene of -last night's conflagration from thence. They did so, and from the summit -of the eastern hill, within the entrenchment which still exists, and has -existed there from early British times, marked the cloud of black smoke -which arose from the ruins of Watlington. - -"What can have happened to the town--it is well defended with palisades -and trench?" - -Just then a powerful horseman, evidently a knight at the least, attended -by two squires, rode over the entrance of the vallum, and ascended to -the summit of the hill. He saluted the Abbot with a cold salute, and -then entered into conversation with his squires. - -"It is burning even yet, Osric; dost thou mark the black smoke?" - -"Thatch smoulders a long time, my lord," replied the squire addressed. - -The Abbot Alured happened to look round at Wulfnoth; he was quivering -with some suppressed emotion like an aspen leaf, and his hand -involuntarily sought the place where the hilt of his sword should have -been had he possessed one. - -"What ails thee, brother?" he said. - -"It is the destroyer of my home and family, Brian Fitz-Count," and -Wulfnoth drew the cowl over his head. - -The Abbot rode down the hill; he felt as if he were on the edge of a -volcano, and putting his hand on his companion's rein, forced him to -accompany him. - -It was strange that Wulfnoth did not also recognise his own _son_. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[23] Many monastic rolls of accounts remain, and their minuteness is -even startling. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -IN THE LOWEST DEPTHS - - -The morning watch looked forth from the summit of the lofty keep, which -rose above Wallingford Castle, to spy the dawning day. From that -elevation of two hundred feet he saw the light of the summer dawn break -forth over the Chiltern Hills in long streaks of azure, and amber light -flecked with purple and scarlet. The stream below caught the rays, and -assumed the congenial hue of blood; the sleepy town began to awake -beyond the castle precincts; light wreaths of smoke to ascend from roof -after roof--we can hardly say of those days chimney after chimney; the -men of the castle began to move, for there was no idleness under Brian's -rule; boats arrived by the stream bearing stores from the dependent -villages above and below, or even down from Oxford and up from Reading, -for the river was a great highway in those days. - -Ah, how like the distant view was to that we now behold from the -lessened height of the ruined keep! The everlasting hills were the same; -the river flowed in the same channel: and yet how unlike, for the -cultivated fields of the present day were mainly wood and marsh; dense -forests of bush clothed the Chilterns; Cholsey Common, naked and bare, -stretched on to the base of the downs; but on the west were the vast -forests which had filled the vale of White Horse in earlier times, and -now were but slightly broken into clearings, and diversified with -hamlets. - -But still more unlike, the men who began to wake into life! - -The gaolers were busy with the light breakfasts of their prisoners, or -attending to their cells, which they were forced sometimes to clean out, -to prevent a pestilence; the soldiers were busy attending to their -horses, and scouring their arms; the cooks were busy providing for so -many mouths; the butler was busy with his wines; the armourers and -blacksmiths with mail and weapons; the treasurer was busy with his -accounts, counting the value of last night's raid and assigning his -share of prize-money to each raider, for all had their share, each -according to rank, and so "moss-trooping" was highly popular. - -Even the Chaplain, as he returned from his hastily said Mass, which few -attended--only, indeed, the Lady of the Castle, Maude d'Oyley, and her -handmaidens--received his "bonus" as a bribe to Heaven, and pocketed it -without reflecting that it was the price of blood. He was the laziest -individual in the castle. Few there confessed their sins, and fewer -still troubled him in any other spiritual capacity. Still Brian kept him -for the sake of "being in form," as moderns say, and had purposely -sought out an accommodating conscience. - -In the terrace, which looked over the glacis towards the Thames, of -which the remains with one window _in situ_ may still be seen, was the -bower of Maude d'Oyley, wife of Brian Fitz-Count and sister of the Lord -of Oxford Castle, as we have before observed. It was called otherwise -"the solar chamber;" perhaps because it was best fitted with windows for -the admission of the sunlight, the openings in the walls being generally -rather loopholes than windows. - -The passion for great reception-rooms was as strong in mediaeval days as -in our own, and the family apartments suffered for it,--being generally -small and low,--while the banqueting-hall was lofty and spacious, and -the Gothic windows, which looked into the inner quadrangle, were of -ample proportions. But the "ladye's bower" on the second floor consisted -of, first an ante-chamber, where a handmaiden always waited within -hearing of the little silver hand-bell; then a bower or boudoir; then -the bedroom proper. All these rooms were hung with rich tapestry, worked -by the lady and her handmaidens. For in those days, when books were -scarce, and few could read, the work of the needle and the loom was the -sole alleviation of many a solitary hour. - -The windows looked over the river, and were of horn, not very -transparent, only translucent; the outer world could but be dimly -discerned in daylight. - -There was a hearth at one end of the bower, and "dog-irons" upon it for -the reception of the logs, of which fires were chiefly composed, for -there was as yet no coal in use. - -There were two "curule" chairs, that is, chairs in the form of St. -Andrew's Cross, with cushions between the upper limbs, and no backs; -there were one or two very small round tables for the reception of -trifles, and "leaf-tables" between the windows. No one ever sat on these -"curule" chairs save those of exalted rank: three-legged stools were -good enough for ladies in waiting, and the like. - -The hangings, which concealed the bare walls, were very beautiful. On -one set was represented Lazarus and Dives; Father Abraham appeared very -much in the style of a mediaeval noble, and on his knee, many sizes -smaller, sat Lazarus. In uncomfortable proximity to their seats was a -great yawning chasm, and smoke looking very substantial, as represented -in wool-work, arose thence, while some batlike creatures, supposed to be -fiends, sported here and there. On the other side lay Dives in the midst -of rosy flames of crimson wool, and his tongue, which was stretched out -for the drop of water, was of such a size, that one wondered how it ever -could have found space in the mouth. But for all this, the lesson taught -by the picture was not a bad one for the chambers of barons, if they -would but heed it; it is to be feared it was little heeded just then in -Wallingford Castle. - -There was no carpet on the floor, only rushes, from the marshes. The -Countess sat on her "curule" chair in front of the blazing fire. Three -maidens upon three-legged stools around her were engaged on embroidery. -They were all of high rank, entrusted to her guardianship, for she liked -to surround herself with blooming youth. _She_ was old,--her face was -wrinkled, her eyes were dull,--but she had a sweet smile, and was quite -an engaging old lady, although, of course, with the reserve which -became, or was supposed to become, her high rank. - -A timid knock at the door, and another maiden entered. - -"Jeannette, thou art late this evening." - -"I was detained in Dame Ursula's room; she needed my help, lady." - -"Wherefore?" - -"To attend to the wounded of last night's raid." - -"Ah, yes, we have heard but few particulars, and would fain learn more. -Send and see whether either of the young squires Osric or Alain can come -and give us the details." - -And shortly Osric entered, dressed in his handsomest tunic--the garb of -peace, and properly washed and combed for the presence of ladies. - -He bowed reverently to the great dame, of whom he stood in more awe than -of her stern husband: he was of that awkward age when lads are always -shy before ladies. - -But her kind manner cheered him. - -"So thou didst ride last night, Osric?" - -"I did, my lady." - -"Come, tell us all about it." - -"We started, as thou knowest, soon after the arrival of the prisoner -William Martel, to harry his lands." - -"We all saw you start; and I hear the Crowmarsh people saw you too." - -"And assailed us at Bensington." - -"And now tell me, my Osric, didst thou not slay one of Lord Ranulph's -people?" - -"I did, by my good fortune, and his ill-luck." - -"And so thou shouldst receive the meed of valour from the fair. Come, -what sayest thou, ladies?" - -"He should indeed; he is marvellous young to be so brave." - -"We are short of means to reward our brave knights and squires, but take -this ring;" and she gave one containing a valuable gem; "and we only -grieve it is not of more worth." - -So Osric, encouraged, continued his tale; and those fair ladies--and -fair they were--laughed merrily at his narration of the burning of -Watlington, and would have him spare no details. - -"Thou hast done well, my Osric. Come, thou wilt be a knight; thou dost -not now pine for the forest?" - -"Not now; I have grown to love adventures." - -"And it is so exciting to ride by night, as thou didst last winter with -the Empress Queen." - -"But I love the summer nights, with their sweet freshness, best." - -"Thou dost not remember thy boyhood with regret now, and wish it back -again?" - -"Not now." And Osric made his bow and departed. - -"There is a mystery about that youth; he is not English, as my lord -thinks; there is not an atom of it about him," said the Countess, and -fell into a fit of musing. - - ---- - -From the halls of pleasure let us turn to the dungeons beneath; but -first a digression. - -Even mediaeval barons were forced to keep their accounts, or to employ, -more commonly, a "scrivener" or accountant for that purpose; and all -this morning Brian was closeted with his man of business, looking over -musty rolls and parchments, from which extract after extract was read, -bearing little other impression on the mind of the poor perplexed Baron -than that he was grievously behind in his finances. So he despatched the -scrivener to negotiate a farther advance--loan he called it--from the -mayor, while he summoned Osric, who was quick at figures, to his -presence. - -"There is scarcely enough money to pay the Brabanters, and they will -mutiny if kept short: that raid last night was a god-send," said Brian -to himself. - -Osric arrived. The Baron felt lighter of heart when the youth he loved -was with him. It was another case of Saul and David. And furthermore, -the likeness was not a superficial one. Often did Osric touch the harp, -and sing the lays of love and war to his patron, for so much had he -learned of his grandsire. - -They talked of the previous evening's adventures, and Brian was -delighted to draw Osric out, and to hear him express sentiments so -entirely at variance with his antecedents, as he did under the Baron's -deft questions. - -So they continued talking until the scrivener returned, and then the -Baron asked impatiently-- - -"Well, man! and what does the mayor say?" - -"That their resources are exhausted, and that you are very much in their -debt already." - -The reader need not marvel at this bold answer. Brian dared not use -violence to his own burghers; it would have been killing the goose who -laid the golden eggs. In our men of commerce began the first germs of -English liberty. Men would sometimes yield to all other kinds of -violence, but the freemen of the towns, even amidst the wild barons of -Germany, held their own; and so did the burgesses of Wallingford: they -had their charter signed and sealed by Brian, and ratified by Henry the -First. - -"The greedy caitiffs," he said; "well, we must go and see the dungeons. -Osric, come with me." - -Osric had seldom been permitted to do this before. He had only once or -twice been "down below." Perhaps Brian had feared to shock him, and now -thought him seasoned, as indeed he seemed to be the night before, and in -his talk that day. - -And here let me advise my gentler readers, who hate to read of violence -and cruelty, to skip the rest of this chapter, which may be read by -stronger-minded readers as essential to a complete picture of life at -Wallingford Castle. What men once had to bear, we may bear to read. - -They went first to the dungeon in the north tower, where William, Lord -of Shirburne, was confined. Tustain the gaoler and two satellites -attended, and opened the door of the cell. It was a cold, bare room: a -box stuffed with leaves and straw, with a coverlet and pillow for a bed; -a rough bench; a rude table--that was all. - -The prisoner could not enjoy the scenery; his only light was from a -grated window above, of too small dimensions to allow a man to pass -through, even were the bars removed. - -"How dost thou like my hospitality, William of Shirburne?" - -"I suppose it is as good as I should have shown thee." - -"Doubtless: we know each other. Now, what wilt thou pay for thy ransom?" - -"A thousand marks." - -Brian laughed grimly. - -"Thou ratest thyself at the price of an old Jew." - -"What dost thou ask?" - -"Ten thousand marks, or the Castle of Shirburne and its domains." - -"Never! thou villain--robber!" - -"Thou wilt change thy mind: thou mayst despatch a messenger for the -money, who shall have free conduct to come and go; and mark me, if thou -dost not pay within a week, thou shalt be manacled and removed to the -dungeons below, to herd with my defaulting debtors, and a week after to -a lower depth still." - -Then he turned as if to depart, but paused and said, "It is a pity this -window is so high in the wall, otherwise thou mightst have seen a fine -blaze last night about Shirburne and its domains." - -He laughed exultantly. - -"Do thy worst, thou son of perdition; my turn may yet come," replied -Martel. - -And the Baron departed, accompanied still by Osric. - -"Osric," said he, "thou hast often asked to visit the lower dungeons: -thou mayst have thy wish, and see how we house our guests there; and -also in a different capacity renew thine acquaintance with the -torture-chambers: thou shalt be the notary." - -"My lord, thou dost recall cruel memories." - -"Nay, it was for love of thee. I have no son, and my bowels yearned for -one; it was gentle violence for thine own good. I know not how it was, -but I could not even then have done more than frighten thee. Thou wilt -see I can hurt others without wincing. Say, wouldst thou fear to see -what torture is like? it may fall to thy duty to inflict it some day, -and in these times one must get hardened either to inflict or endure." - -"I may as well learn all I have to learn; but I love it not. I do not -object to fighting; but in cold blood----" - -"Well, here is the door which descends to the lower realms." - -They descended through a yawning portal to the dungeons. The steps were -of gray stone: they went down some twenty or thirty, and then entered a -corridor--dark and gloomy--from which opened many doors on either side. - -Dark, but not silent. Many a sigh, many a groan, came from behind those -doors, but neither Brian nor his squire heeded them. - -"Which shall I open first?" said Tustain. - -"The cell of Nathan, the Abingdon Jew." - -The door was a huge block of stone, turning upon a pivot. It disclosed a -small recess, about six feet by four, paved with stone, upon which lay -some foul and damp litter. A man was crouched upon this, with a long, -matted beard, looking the picture of helpless misery. - -"Well, Nathan, hast been my guest long enough? Will not change of air -do thee good?" - -"I have no more money to give thee." - -"Then I must bid the tormentor visit thee again. Thy race is accursed, -and I cannot offer a better burnt-offering to Heaven than a Jew." - -"Mercy, Baron! I have borne so much already." - -"Mercy is to be bought: the price is a thousand marks of gold." - -"I have not a hundred." - -"Osric," said Brian; and gave his squire instructions to fetch the -tormentor. - -"We will spare thee the grate yet awhile; but I have another plan in -view. Coupe-gorge, canst thou draw teeth?" - -"Yes," said the tormentor, grinning, who had come at Osric's bidding. - -"Then bring me a tooth from the mouth of this Nathan every day until his -ransom arrive. Nathan, thou mayst write home--a letter for each tooth." -And with a merry laugh they passed on to the other dungeons. - -There was one who shared his cell with toads and adders, introduced for -his discomfort; another round whose neck and throat a hideous thing -called a _sachentage_ was fastened. It was thus made: it was fastened to -a beam, and had a sharp iron to go round a man's neck and throat, so -that he might nowise sit or lie or sleep, but he bore all the iron. - -In short, the castle was full of prisoners, and they were subjected to -daily tortures to make them disclose their supposed hidden treasures, or -pay the desired ransom. Here were many hapless Jews, always the first -objects of cruelty in the Middle Ages; here many usurers, paying -interest more heavy than they had ever charged others; here also many of -the noblest and purest mixed up with some of the vilest upon earth. - -Well might the townspeople complain that they were startled in their -sleep by the cries and shrieks which came from the grim towers. - -And the Baron, followed by Osric, went from dungeon to dungeon; in some -cases obtaining promises of ransom to be paid, in others hearing of -treasures, real or imaginary, buried in certain places, which he bid -Osric note, that search might be made. - -"Woe to them who fool me," he said. - -Then they came to a dungeon in which was a chest, sharp and narrow, in -which one poor tormented wight lay in company with sharp flints; as the -light of the torch they bore flashed upon him, his eyes, red and lurid, -gleamed through the open iron framework of the lid which fastened him -down. - -"This man was the second in command of a band of English outlaws, who -made much spoil at Norman expense. Now I slew his chief in fair combat -on the downs, and this man succeeded him, and waged war for a long time, -until I took him; and here he is. How now, Herwald, dost want to get out -of thy chest?" - -A deep groan was the only reply. - -"Then disclose to me the hidden treasures of thy band." - -"We have none." - -"Persevere then in that lie, and die in thy misery." - -Osric felt very sick. He had not the nerves of his chief, and now he -felt as if he were helping the torture of his own countrymen; and, -moreover, there was a yet deeper feeling. Recollections were brought to -his mind in that loathsome dungeon which, although indistinct and -confused, yet had some connection with his own early life. What had his -father been? The grandfather had carefully hidden all those facts, known -to the reader, from Osric, but old Judith had dropped obscure hints. - -He longed to get out of this accursed depth into the light of day, yet -felt ashamed of his own weakness. He heard the misery of these dens -turned into a joke by Alain and others every day. He had brought -prisoners into the castle himself--for the hideous receptacles--and been -complimented on his prowess and success; yet humanity was not quite -extinguished in his breast, and he felt sick of the scenes. - -But he had not done. They came to the torture-chamber, where -recalcitrant prisoners, who would not own their wealth, were hanged up -by the feet and smoked with foul smoke: some were hanged up by the -thumbs, others by the head, and burning rings were put on their feet. -The torturers put knotted strings about men's heads, and writhed them -till they went into the brain. In short, the horrid paraphernalia of -cruelty was entered into that day with the utmost zest, and all for -gold, accursed gold--at least, that was the first object; but we fear at -last the mere love of cruelty was half the incitement to such doings. - -And all this time Brian sat as judge, and directed the torturers with -eye or hand; and Osric had to take notes of the things the poor wretches -said in their delirium. - -At last it was over, and they ascended to the upper day. - -"How dost thou like it, Osric?" said Alain, whom they met on the -ramparts. - -Osric shook his head. - -"It is nothing when you are used to it; I used to feel squeamish at -first." - -"I never shall like it," whispered Osric. - -The whisper was so earnest that Alain looked at him in surprise; Osric -only answered by something like a sigh. The Baron heard him not. - -"Thou hast done well for a beginner," said Brian; "how dost thou like -the torture chamber?" - -"I was there in another capacity once." - -"And thou hast not forgot it. But we must remember these _canaille_ are -only made for such uses--only to disgorge their wealth for their -betters, or to furnish sport." - -"How should we like it ourselves?" - -"You might as well object to eating venison, and say how should we like -it if we were the deer?" - -"But does not God look upon all alike?" - -They were on the castle green. Upon the sward some ants had raised a -little hill. - -"Look at these ants," said Brian; "I believe they have a sort of kingdom -amongst themselves--some are priests, some masters, some slaves, one is -king, and the like: to themselves they seem very important. Now I will -place my foot upon the hill, and ruin their republic. Just so are the -gods to us, if there be gods. They care as little about men as I about -the ants; our joys, our griefs, our good deeds, our bad deeds, are alike -to them. I was in deep affliction once about my poor leprous boys. I -prayed with all my might; I gave alms; I had Masses said--all in vain. -Now I go my own way, and you see I do not altogether fail of success, -although I buy it with the tears and blood of other men." - -This seemed startling, nay, terrible to Osric. - -"Yet, Osric, I can love, and I can reward fidelity; be true to me, and I -will be truer to you than God was to me--that is, if there be a God, -which I doubt." - -Osric shuddered; and well he might at this impious defiance. - -Then this strange man was seized with a remorse, which showed that after -all there was yet some good left in him. - -"Nay, pardon me, my Osric; I wish not to shake thy faith; if it make -thee happy, keep it. Mine are perchance the ravings of disappointment -and despair. There are times when I think the most wretched of my -captives happier than I. Nay, _keep_ thy faith if thou canst." - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -MEINHOLD AND HIS PUPILS - - -We are loth to leave our readers too long in the den of tyranny: we pant -for free air; for the woods, even if we share them with hermits and -lepers--anything rather than the towers of Wallingford under Brian -Fitz-Count, his troopers and free lances. - -So we will fly to the hermitage where his innocent sons have found -refuge for two years past, under the fostering care of Meinhold the -hermit, and see how they fare. - -First of all, they had not been reclaimed to Byfield. It is true they -had been traced, and Meinhold had been "interviewed"; but so earnestly -had both he and the boys pleaded that they might be allowed to remain -where they were, that assent was willingly given, even Father Ambrose -feeling that it was for the best; only an assurance was required that -they would not stray from the neighbourhood of the cell, and it was -readily given. - -Of course their father was informed, and he made no opposition,--the -poor boys were dead to him and the world. Leprosy was incurable: if they -were happy--"let them be." - -So they enjoyed the sweet, simple life of the forest. They found -playmates in every bird and beast; they learned to read at last; they -joined the hermit in the recitation of two at least of the "hours" each -day--_Lauds_ and _Vespers_, the morning and evening offerings of praise. -They learned to sing, and chanted _Benedictus_ and _Magnificat_, as well -as the hymns _Ecce nunc umbrae_ and _Lucis Creator optime_. - -"We sing very badly, do we not?" - -"Not worse than the brethren of St. Bernard." - -"Tell us about them." - -"They settled in a wild forest,--about a dozen in number. They could not -sing their offices, for they lacked an ear for music; but they said God -should at least be honoured by the _Magnificat_ in song; so they did -their best, although it is said they frightened the very birds away. - -"Now one day a wandering boy, the son of a minstrel, came that way and -craved hospitality. He joined them at Vespers, and when they came to the -_Magnificat_, he took up the strain and sang it so sweetly that the -birds all came back and listened, entranced; and the old monks were -silent lest they should spoil so sweet a chant with their croaking and -nasal tones. - -"That evening an Angel flew straight from Heaven and came to the prior. - -"'My lady hath sent me to learn why _Magnificat_ was not sung to-night?' - -"'It was sung indeed--so beautifully.' - -"'Nay, it ascended no farther than human ken; the singer was only -thinking of his own sweet voice.' - -"Then they sent that boy away; and, doubtless, he found his consolation -amongst troubadours and trouveres. So you see, my children, the heart is -everything--not the voice." - -"Yet I should not like to sing so badly as to frighten the birds away," -said Richard. - -So the months passed away; and meanwhile the leprosy made its insidious -progress. The red spot on the hermit's hand deepened and widened until -the centre became white as snow; and so it formed a ghastly ring, which -began to ulcerate in the centre, the ulcer eating deep into the flesh. - -Richard's arm was now wholly infected, and the elbow-joint began to get -useless. Evroult's disease extended to the neighbouring regions of the -face, and disfigured the poor lad terribly. - -Such were the stages of this terrible disease; but there was little -pain attending it--only a sense of uneasiness, sometimes feverish heats -or sudden chills, resembling in their nature those which attend marsh or -jungle fevers, ague, and the like. Happily these symptoms were not -constant. - -And through these stages the unfortunate boys we have introduced to our -readers were slowly passing; but the transitions were so gradual that -the patient became almost hardened to them. Richard was so patient; he -had no longer a left hand, but he never complained. - -"It is the road, dear child, God has chosen for us, and His Name is -'Love,'" said the hermit. "Every step of the way has been foreordained -by Him Who tasted the bitter cup for us; and when we have gained the -shore of eternity we shall see that infinite wisdom ordered it all for -the best." - -"Is it really so? Can it be for the best?" said Evroult. - -"Listen, my son: this is God's Word; let me read it to you." And from -his Breviary he read this extract from that wondrous Epistle to the -Romans-- - -"'For we know that all things work together for good to them that love -God, who are the called according to His purpose.'" - -"Now God has called you out of this wicked world: you might have spent -turbid, restless lives of fighting and bloodshed, chasing the phantom -called 'glory,' and then have died and gone where all hope is left -behind. Is it not better?" - -"Yes, _it is_," said Richard; "_it is_, Evroult, is it not--better as it -is?" - -"Nay, Richard, but had I been well, I had been a knight like my father. -Oh, what have we not lost!" - -"An awful doom at the end perhaps," said Meinhold. "Let me tell you what -I saw with mine own eyes. A rich baron died near here who had won great -renown in the wars, in which, nevertheless, he had been as merciless as -barons too often are. Well, he left great gifts to the Church, and money -for many Masses for his soul: so he was buried with great pomp--brought -to be buried, I mean, in the priory church he had founded. - -"Now when we came to the solemn portion of the service, when the words -are said which convey the last absolution and benediction of the Church, -the corpse sat upright in the bier and said, in an awful tone, 'By the -justice of God, I am condemned to Hell.' The prior could not proceed; -the body was left lying on the bier; and at last it was decided so to -leave it till the next day, and then resume the service. - -"But the second day, when the same words were repeated, the corpse rose -again and said, 'By the justice of God, I am condemned to Hell.' - -"We waited till the third day, determined if the interruption occurred -again to abandon the design of burying the deceased baron in the church -he had founded. A great crowd assembled around, but only the monks dared -to enter the church where the body lay. A third time we came to the same -words in the office, and we who were in the choir saw the body rise in -the winding-sheet, the dull eyes glisten into life, and heard the awful -words for the third time, 'By the justice of God, I am condemned to -Hell.' - -"After a long pause, during which we all knelt, horror-struck, the prior -bade us take the body from the church, and bade his friends lay it in -unconsecrated ground, away from the church he had founded. So you see a -man of blood cannot always bribe Heaven with gifts." - -"It is no use then to found churches and monasteries; I have heard my -father say the same," said Evroult. - -"Yet in any case it is better than to build castles to become dens of -cruelty--to torture captives and spread terror through a neighbourhood." - -"It is pleasant to be the lord of such a castle," said the incorrigible -Evroult, "and to be the master of all around." - -"And, alas, my boy, if it end in like manner with you as with the baron -whose story I have just related, of what avail will it all be?" - -"Yes, brother, we are better as we are; God meant it for our good, and -we may thank Him for it," said Richard quite sincerely. - -Evroult only sighed as a wolf might were he told how much more -nutritious grass is than mutton; inherited instinct, unsubdued as yet by -grace, was too strong within him. But let us admire his truthfulness; he -would not say what he did not mean. Many in his place would have said -"yes" to please his brother and the kind old hermit, but Evroult scorned -such meanness. - -There is little question that had he escaped this scourge he would have -made a worthy successor to Brian Fitz-Count, but-- - - - "His lot forbade, nor circumscribed alone - His growing virtues but his crimes confined, - Forbade to wade through slaughter to a throne, - Or shut the gates of mercy on mankind." - - -Still, let it be remembered, that in Stephen's days we see only the -worst side of the Norman nobility. In less than a century the barons -rallied around that man of God, Stephen Langton, and wrested Magna -Charta from the tyrant John, the worst of the Plantagenets. Proud by -that time of the name "Englishmen," they laid the foundations of our -greatness, and jealously guarded our constitutional liberties; and it -was not until after the Wars of the Roses, in which so many of the -ancient houses perished, that a Norman baron was said to be "as scarce -as a wolf," that the Bloodstained House of Tudor was enabled to trample -upon English liberty, and to reign as absolute monarchs over a prostrate -commonalty. - -All through the summer our boys were very happy, in spite of Evroult's -occasional longings for the world. They cultivated a garden hard by -their cave, and they gathered the roots and fruits of the forest for -their frugal repast. They parched the corn; they boiled the milk and -eggs which the rustics spontaneously brought; they made the bread and -baked the oatcakes. They were quite vegetarians now, save the milk and -eggs; and throve upon their simple fare; but it took, as our readers -perceive, a long course of vegetable diet to take the fire out of -Evroult. - -Then came the fall of the leaf, when the trees, like some vain mortals, -put on their richest clothing wherein to die; and damps and mists arose -around, driving them within the shelter of their cave; then winter with -its chilling frosts, keener then than now, and their stream was turned -into ice. And had they not, like the ants, laid by in summer, they would -have starved sadly in winter. - -In the inner cave was a natural chimney, an orifice communicating with -the outer air. Fuel was plentiful in the forest, and as they sat around -the fire, Meinhold told them stories of the visible and invisible world, -more or less, of course, of a supernatural character, like those we have -already heard. His was an imaginary world, full of quaint superstitions -which were very harmless, for they left the soul even more reliant and -dependent upon Divine help; for was not this a world wherein Angels and -demons engaged in terrestrial warfare, man's soul the prize? and were -not the rites and Sacraments of the Church sent to counteract the spells -and snares of the phantom host? - -And as they sat around their fire, the wind made wild and awful music in -the subterranean caves: sometimes it shrieked, then moaned, as if under -the current of earthly origin there was a perpetual wail of souls in -pain. - -"Father, may not these passages lead down to Purgatory, or even to the -abode of the lost?" - -"Nay, my child, I think it only the wind;" but he shuddered as he spoke. - -"You think _they_ lie beneath the earth, Richard?" - -"Yes, the heavens above the stars, which are like the golden nails of -its floor; the earth--our scene of conflict beneath; and the depths -below for those who fail and reject their salvation," said Meinhold, -replying for the younger boy. - -"Then the burning mountains of which we have heard are the portals of -hell?" - -"So it is commonly supposed," said the hermit. The reader will laugh at -his simple cosmogony: he had no idea, poor man, that the earth is round. - -"Please let me explore these caves," said Evroult. - -"Art thou not afraid?" said Meinhold. - -"No," said he; "I am never afraid." - -"But I fear _for_ thee; there are dark chasms and a black gulf within, -and I fear, my child, lest they be tenanted by evil spirits, and that -the sounds we hear at night be not all idle winds." - -"You once said they were winds." - -"Yes, but do winds utter blasphemies?" - -"Never." - -"Of course not. Is it not written, 'O all ye winds of God, bless ye the -Lord?' Now as I lay on my bed last night, methought the sounds took -articulate form, and they were words of cursing and blasphemy, such as -might have come from a lost soul." - -A modern would say that the hermit had a sort of nightmare, but in those -credulous days the supernatural solution was always accepted. - -"And, my son, if there be, as I fear, evil spirits who lurk in the -bowels of the earth, and lure men to their destruction, I would not -allow thee to rush into danger." - -"No, brother, think no more of it," said Richard. - -And Evroult promised not to do so, if he could help it. - -"There be caves in the African deserts, of which I have heard, where -fiends do haunt, and terrify travellers even to death. One there was -which was, to look upon, the shadow of a great rock in a weary land, but -they who passed a night there--and it was the only resting-place in the -desert for many weary miles--went mad, frightened out of their senses -by some awful vision which blasted those who gazed." - -"But ought Christian men to fear such things?" - -"No; neither ought they without a call to endanger themselves: 'He shall -give His Angels charge over thee to keep thee in all thy ways.' Now our -way does not lie through these dark abodes." - -So the caves remained unexplored. - -But we must return to Wallingford Castle again, and the active life of -the fighting world of King Stephen's days. Suffice it for the present to -say, that the lives of the hermit and his two pupils, for such they -were, continued to roll on uneventfully for many months--indeed, until -the occurrence of totally unexpected events, which we shall narrate in -due course. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -A DEATHBED DISCLOSURE - - -An excessive rainfall during the late summer of this year destroyed the -hopes of the harvest,--such hopes as there were, for tillage had been -abandoned, save where the protection of some powerful baron gave a fair -probability of gathering in the crops. In consequence a dreadful famine -succeeded during the winter, aggravated by the intense cold, for a frost -set in at the beginning of December and lasted without intermission till -February, so that the Thames was again frozen, and the ordinary passage -of man and horse was on the ice of the river. - -The poor people, says the author of _The Acts of King Stephen_, died in -heaps, and so escaped the miseries of this sinful world,--a phrase of -more meaning then, in people's ears, than it is now, when life is -doubtless better worth living than it could have been then, in King -Stephen's days, when horrible and unexampled atrocities disgraced the -nation daily, and the misery of the poor was caused by the cruel tyranny -of the rich and powerful. - -All this time our young friend Osric continued to be the favourite -squire of Brian Fitz-Count, and, we grieve to say, became habituated to -crime and violence. He no longer shuddered as of yore at the atrocities -committed in the dungeons of the castle, or in the constant raids: the -conscience soon became blunted, and he felt an ever-increasing delight -in strife and bloodshed, the joy of the combat, and in deeds of valour. - -_Facilis descensus averno_, wrote the poet, or, as it has been -Englished-- - - - "The gate of Hell stands open night and day, - Smooth the descent, and easy is the way; - But to return and view the upper skies, - In this the toil, in this the labour lies." - - -For a long period he had not visited his grandfather--the reader will -easily guess why; but he took care that out of Brian's prodigal bounty -the daily wants of the old man should be supplied, and he thought all -was well there--he did not know that the recipient never made use of -Brian's bounty. He had become ashamed of his English ancestry: it needed -a thunder-clap to recall him to his better self. - -There were few secrets Brian concealed from his favourite squire, now an -aspirant for knighthood, and tolerably sure to obtain his wish in a few -more months. The deepest dungeons in the castle were known to him, the -various sources of revenue, the claims for feudal dues, the tribute paid -for protection, the rentals of lands, the purchase of forest rights, -and, less creditable, the sums extracted by torture or paid for -ransom,--all these were known to Osric, whose keen wits were often -called on to assist the Baron's more sluggish intellect in such matters. - -Alain was seldom at Wallingford; he had already been knighted by the -Empress Maude, and was high in her favour, and in attendance on her -person, so Osric lacked his most formidable rival in the Baron's graces. - -He could come and go almost when he pleased; he knew the secret exit to -the castle, only known to a few chief confidants--two or three at the -most, who had been allowed to use it on special necessity. - -It led to a landing-place on the bank of the river, and blindfolded -prisoners, to be kept in secret, were sometimes introduced to their -doleful lodgings through this entrance. - -Active in war, a favourite in the bower, possessing a good hand at -games, a quick eye for business, Osric soon became a necessity to Brian -Fitz-Count: his star was in the ascendant, and men said Brian would -adopt him as his son. - -Constitutionally fearless, a born lover of combat, a good archer who -could kill a bird on the wing, a fair swordsman, skilled in the -exercises of chivalry,--what more was needed to make a young man happy -in those days? - -A quiet conscience? Well, Osric had quieted his: he was fast becoming a -convert to Brian's sceptical opinions, which alone could justify his -present course of action. - -The castle was increasing: the dungeon aforementioned had been built, -called Brian's Close,[24] with surmounting towers. The unhappy William -Martel was its first inmate, and there he remained until his obstinacy -was conquered, and the Castle of Shirburne ceded to Brian, with the -large tract of country it governed and the right of way across the -Chilterns. - -Brian Fitz-Count was now at the height of his glory--the Empress was -mistress of half the realm; he was her chief favourite and -minister--when events occurred which somewhat disturbed his serene -self-complacency, and seemed to infer the existence of a God of justice -and vengeance. - - ---- - -It was early one fine day when a messenger from the woods reached the -castle, and with some difficulty found access to Osric, bringing the -tidings that his grandfather was dying, and would fain see him once more -before he died. - -"Dying! well, he is very old; we must all die," was Osric's first -thought, coupled with a sense of relief, which he tried to disguise from -himself, that a troublesome Mentor was about to be removed. Now he might -feel like a _Norman_, but he had still a lingering love for the old man, -the kind and loving guardian of his early years; so he sought Brian, and -craved leave of absence. - -"It is awkward," replied the Baron; "I was about to send thee to -Shirburne. We have conquered Martel's resolution at last. I threatened -that the rack should not longer be withheld, and that we would make him -a full foot longer than God created him. Darkness and scant food have -tamed him. Had we kept him in his first prison, with light and air, with -corn and wine, he would never have given way. After all, endurance is a -thing very dependent on the stomach." - -"I will return to-morrow, my lord;" and Osric looked pleadingly at him. - -"Not later. I cannot go to Shirburne myself, as I am expecting an -important messenger from _Queen_ Maude (of course _he_ called her -Queen), and can trust none other but thee." - -"It is not likely that any other claim will come between me and thee, my -lord; this is passing away, and I shall be wholly thine." - -The Baron smiled; his proud heart was touched. - -"Go, then, Osric," he said, "and return to-morrow." - -And so they parted. - - ---- - -Osric rode rapidly through the woods, up the course of the brook; we -described the road in our second chapter. He passed the Moor-towns, left -the Roman camp of Blewburton on the left, and was soon in the thick maze -of swamp and wood which then occupied the country about Blewbery. - -As he drew near the old home, many recollections crowded upon him, and -he felt, as he always did there, something more like an Englishman. It -was for this very reason he so seldom came "home" to visit his -grandfather. - -He found his way across the streams: the undergrowth had all been -renewed since the fire which the hunters kindled four years agone; the -birds were singing sweetly, for it was the happy springtide for them, -and they were little affected by the causes which brought misery to less -favoured mankind; the foliage was thick, the sweet hawthorn exhaled its -perfume, the bushes were bright with "May." Ah me, how lovely the woods -are in spring! how happy even this world might be, had man never sinned. - -But within the hut were the unequivocal signs of the rupture between man -and his Maker--the tokens which have ever existed since by sin came -death. - -Upon the bed in the inner room lay old Sexwulf, in the last stage of -senile decay. He was dying of no distinct disease, only of general -breaking-up of the system. Man cannot live for ever; he wears out in -time, even if he escape disease. - -The features were worn and haggard, the eye was yet bright, the mind -powerful to the last. - -He saw the delight of his eyes, the darling of his old age, enter, and -looked sadly upon him, almost reproachfully. The youth took his passive -hand in his warm grasp, and imprinted a kiss upon the wrinkled forehead. - -"He has had all he needed--nothing has been wanting for his comfort?" -said Osric inquiringly. - -"We have been able to keep him alive, but he would not touch your gold, -or aught you sent of late." - -"Why not?" asked Osric, deeply hurt. - -"He said it was the price of blood, wrung, it might be, from the hands -of murdered peasants of your own kindred." - -Ah! that shaft went home. Osric knew it was _just_. What else was the -greater portion of the Baron's hoard derived from, save rapine and -violence? - -"It was cruel to let him starve." - -"He has not starved; we have had other friends, but the famine has been -sore in the land." - -"Other friends! who?" - -"Yes; especially the good monks of Dorchester." - -"What do they know of my grandfather?" - -Judith pursed up her lips, as much as to say, "That is my secret, and if -you had brought the thumb-screws, of which you know the use too well, -you should not get it out of me." - -"Osric," said a deep, yet feeble voice. - -The youth returned to the bedside. - -"Osric, I am dying. They say the tongues of dying men speak sooth, and -it may be because, as the gates of eternity open before them, the -vanities of earth disappear. Now I have a last message to leave for you, -a tale to unfold before I die, which cannot fail of its effect upon your -heart. It is the secret entrusted to me when you were brought an infant -to this hut, which I was forbidden to unfold until you had gained years -of discretion. It may be, my dear child, you have not yet gained them--I -trow not, from what I hear." - -"What harm have mine enemies told of me?" - -"_That_ thou shalt hear by and by; meanwhile let me unfold my tale, for -the sands of life are running out. It was some seventeen years ago this -last autumn, that thy father----" - -"Who was he--thou hast ever concealed his name?" - -"Wulfnoth of Compton." - -Osric started. - -"Doth he live?" - -"He doth." - -"Where?" - -"He is a monk of Dorchester Abbey. I may tell the secret now; Brian -himself could not hurt him there." - -"Why should he _wish_ to hurt him?" - -"Listen, and your ears shall learn the truth. Thy father was my guest in -this hut. Seventeen years ago this last autumn he had been hunting all -day, and was on the down above, near the mound where Holy Birinus once -preached, as the sun set, when he perceived, a few miles away, the -flames of a burning house, and knew that it was his own, for he lived in -a recess of the downs far from other houses. He hurried towards the -scene, sick with fear, but it was miles away, and when he reached the -spot he saw a dark band passing along the downs, a short distance off, -in the opposite direction. His heart told him they were the -incendiaries, but he stopped not for vengeance. Love to his wife and -children hurried him on. When he arrived the roof had long since fallen -in; a few pitying neighbours stood around, and shook their heads as they -saw him, and heard his pitiful cries for his wife and children. Fain -would he have thrown himself into the flames, but they restrained him, -and told him he had one child yet to live for, accidentally absent at -the house of a neighbour.--It was thou, my son." - -"But who had burnt the house? Who had slain my poor mother, and my -brothers and sisters, if I had any?" - -"Brian Fitz-Count, Lord of Wallingford." - -"Brian Fitz-Count!" said Osric in horror. - -"None other." - -Osric stood aghast--confounded. - -"Because your father would not pay tribute, maintaining that the land -was his own freehold since it had been confirmed to his father, thy -paternal grandfather, by the Norman courts, which acknowledged no -tenure, no right of possession, dating before the Conquest; but Wigod of -Wallingford was thy grandfather's friend, and he had secured to him the -possession of the ancestral domains. This Brian denied, and claimed the -rent of his vassal, as he deemed thy father. Thy father refused to obey, -and appealed to the courts, and Brian's answer was this deed of murder." - -Osric listened as one in a dream. - -"Oh, my poor father! What did he do?" - -"He brought thee here. 'Henceforth,' he said, 'I am about to live the -life of a hunted wolf, my sole solace to slay Normans: sooner or later I -shall perish by their hands, for Satan is on their side, and helps them, -and God and His Saints are asleep; but take care of my child; let him -not learn the sad story of his birth till he be of age; nor let him even -know his father's name. Only let him be brought up as an Englishman; and -if he live to years of discretion, thou mayst tell him all, if I return -not to claim him before then.'" - -"And he has never returned--never?" - -"Never: he became a captain of an outlawed band, haunting the forests -and slaying Normans, until, four years ago, he met Brian Fitz-Count -alone on these downs, and the two fought to the death." - -"And Brian conquered?" - -"He did, and left thy father for dead; but the good monks of Dorchester -chanced to be passing across the downs from their house at Hermitage, -and they found the body, and discovered that there was yet life therein. -They took him to Dorchester, and as he was unable to use sword or lance -again, he consented to take the vows, and become a novice. He found his -vocation, and is now, I am told, happy and useful, fervent in his -ministrations amongst the poor and helpless; but he has never yet been -here. - -"And now, Osric, my son," for the youth sat as one stunned, "what is it -that I hear of thee?--that thou art, like a cannibal,[25] preying upon -thine own people; that thy hand is foremost in every deed of violence -and bloodshed; that thou art a willing slave of the murderer of thy -kindred. Boy, I wonder thy mother has not returned from the grave to -curse thee!" - -"Why--why did you let me become his man?" - -The old man felt the justice of the words. - -"Why did you not let me die first?" - -"Thou forgettest I was not by thee when thou didst consent, or I might -have prevented thee by telling thee the truth even at that terrible -moment; but when thou wast already pledged to him, I waited for the time -when I might tell thee, never thinking thou wouldst become a _willing_ -slave or join in such deeds of atrocity and crime as thou hast done." - -"Oh, what shall I do? what shall I do?" - -"Thou canst not return, now thou knowest all." - -"Never; but he will seek me here." - -"Then thou must fly the country." - -"Whither shall I go? are any of my father's band left?" - -"Herwald, his successor, fell into the power of Brian, and we know not -what was done with him; nor whether he is living or dead." - -But Osric knew: he remembered the chest half filled with sharp stones -and its living victim. - -"One Thorold succeeded, and they still maintain a precarious existence -in the forests." - -"I will seek them; I will yet be true to my country, and avenge my -kindred upon Brian. But oh, grandfather, he has been so good to me! I am -his favourite, his confidant; he was about to knight me. Oh, how -miserable it all is! Would I had never lived--would I were dead." - -"He has been thy worst foe. He has taught thee to slay thine own people, -nay, to torture them; he has taught thee--tell me, is it not true?--even -to deny thy God." - -"It is true, he has; but not intentionally." - -"Thou owest him nought." - -"Yet I did love him, and would have died sooner than be faithless to -him." - -"So do sorcerers, as I have been told, love Satan, yet it is happy when -they violate that awful faith. Choose, my son, between thy God, thy -country, thy slaughtered kindred, and Brian." - -"I do choose--I renounce him: he shall never see me again." - -"Fly the country then; seek another clime; go on pilgrimage; take the -cross; and employ thy valour and skill against the Saracens--the -Moslems, the enemies of God." - -"I will, God being my helper." - -"Thou dost believe then in the God of thy fathers?" - -"I think I always did, save when Brian was near. I tried not to believe, -happily in vain." - -"_He_ will forgive thee--_He_ is all-merciful. The prodigal son has -returned. Now I am weary: let me rest--let me rest." - -Osric wandered forth into the woods. Who shall describe his emotions? It -was as when S. Remigius said to the heathen Clovis, "Burn that thou hast -adored, and adore that thou hast burnt." But the terrible story of the -destruction of his kindred, familiar as he was with like scenes, -overcame him; yet he could not help blaming his father for his long -neglect. Why had he disowned his only surviving son? why had he not -trained him up in the ways of the woods, and in hatred of the Normans? -why had he left him to the mercies of Brian Fitz-Count? - -Then again came the remembrance of that strange partiality, even -amounting to fondness, which Brian had ever shown him, and he could but -contrast the coldness and indifference of his own father with the -fostering care of the awful Lord of Wallingford. - -But blood is thicker than water: he could no longer serve the murderer -of his kindred--Heaven itself would denounce such an alliance; yet he -did not even now wish to wreak vengeance. He could not turn so suddenly: -the old man's solution was the right one--he would fly the country and -go to the Crusades. - -But how to get out of England? it was no easy matter. The chances were -twenty to one that he would either meet his death from some roving band -or be forcibly compelled to join them. - -The solution suddenly presented itself. - -He would seek his father, take sanctuary at Dorchester, and claim his -aid. Even Brian could not drag him thence; and the monks of all men -would and could assist him to join the Crusades. - -Strong in this resolution, he returned to the cottage. - -"Your grandfather is asleep; you must not disturb him, Osric, my dear -boy." - -"Very well, my old nurse, I will sleep too; my heart is very heavy." - -He lay down on a pile of leaves and rushes in the outer room, and slept -a troublous sleep. He had a strange dream, which afterwards became -significant. He thought that old Judith came to him and said-- - -"Boy, go back to Wallingford; '_Brian_,' not 'Wulfnoth,' is the name of -thy father." - -The sands of old Sexwulf's life were running fast. The last rites of the -Church were administered to him by the parish priest of Aston Upthorpe -on the day following Osric's arrival. He made no further attempt to -enter into the subject of the last interview with his grandson. From -time to time he pressed the youth's hands, as if to show that he trusted -him now, and that all the past was forgiven; from time to time he looked -upon him with eyes in which revived affection beamed. He never seemed -able to rest unless Osric was in the room. - -Wearied out, Osric threw himself down upon his couch that night for -brief repose, but in the still hours of early dawn Judith awoke him. - -"Get up--he is passing away." - -Osric threw on a garment and entered the chamber. His grandfather was -almost gone; he collected his dying strength for a last blessing, -murmured with dying lips, upon his beloved boy. Then while they knelt -and said the commendatory prayer, he passed away to rejoin those whom he -had loved and lost--the wife of his youth, the children of his early -manhood--passing from scenes of violence and wrong to the land of peace -and love, where all the mysteries of earth are solved. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[24] "The last trace of a dungeon answering the above description, with -huge iron rings fixed in the walls, disappeared about sixty or seventy -years ago."--_History of Wallingford_ (Hedges). - -[25] It was a remark of this kind which turned Robert Bruce when -fighting against his own people. "See," said an Englishman, as he saw -Bruce eating with unwashed and reddened hands, "that Scotchman eating -his own blood!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -THE OUTLAWS - - -Sad and weary were the hours to Osric which intervened between the death -and burial of his grandfather. He gazed upon the dear face, where yet -the parting look of love seemed to linger. The sense of desolation -overwhelmed him--his earthly prospects were shattered, his dreams of -ambition ended; but the dead spake not to console him, and the very -heavens seemed as brass; his only consolation that he felt his lapse had -been forgiven, that the departed one had died loving and blessing him. - -The only true consolation in such hour of distress is that afforded by -religion, but poor Osric could feel little of this; he had strayed so -far from the gentle precepts which had guarded his boyhood: if he -believed in religion, it was as when Satan looked into the gates of -Paradise from afar. It was not his. He seemed to have renounced his -portion and lot in it, to have sold himself to Satan, in the person of -Brian Fitz-Count. - -Yet, he could not even now _hate_ the Baron, as he ought to have done, -according to all regulations laid down for such cases, made and -provided, ever since men began to write novels. Let the reader enter -into his case impartially. He had never known either paternal or -maternal love--the mother, who had perished, was not even a memory; -while, on the other hand, the destroyer had adopted him as a son, and -been as a father to him, distinguishing him from others by an affection -all the more remarkable as coming from a rugged nature, unused to tender -emotions. Again, the horror with which we moderns contemplate such a -scene as his dead grandfather had described, was far less vivid in one -to whom such casualties had been of constant experience, and were -regarded as the usual incidents of warfare. Our readers can easily -imagine the way in which he would have regarded it before he had fallen -under the training of Wallingford Castle. - -But it was his own mother, and Brian was her murderer. Ah, if he had but -once known the gentle endearment of a fond mother's love, how different -would have been his feelings! There would have been no need then to -enforce upon him the duty of forsaking the life but yesterday opening so -brightly to his eyes, and throwing himself a waif and a stray upon the -world of strife. - -He walked to and fro in the woods, and thought sometimes of all he was -leaving. Sometimes of the terrible fate of her who had borne him. At -another moment he felt half inclined to conceal all, and go back to -Wallingford, as if nothing had happened; the next he felt he could never -again grasp the hand of the destroyer of his kindred. - -The hour came for the funeral. The corpse was brought forth on the bier -from the hut which had so long sheltered it in life. They used no -coffins in those days--it was simply wrapped in the "winding-sheet." He -turned back the linen, and gazed upon the still calm face for the last -time ere the bearers departed with their burden. Then he burst into a -passion of tears, which greatly relieved him: it is they who cannot -weep, who suffer most. His grandfather had been father, mother, and all -to him, until a very recent period: and the sweet remembrances and -associations of boyhood returned for a while. - -The solemn burial service of our forefathers was unlike our own--perhaps -not so soothing to the mourners, for whom our service seems made; but it -bore more immediate reference to the departed: the service was for -_them_. The prayers of the Church followed them, as in all ancient -liturgies, into that world beyond the grave, as still members of -Christ's mystical body, one with us in the "Communion of Saints." - -The procession was in those days commonly formed at the house of the -deceased, but as Sexwulf's earthly home was far from the Church, the -body was met at the lych gate, as in modern times. First went the -cross-bearer, then the mourners, then the priest preceding the bier, -around which lighted torches were borne. - -Psalms were now solemnly chanted, particularly the _De Profundis_ and -the _Miserere_, and at the close of each the refrain-- - - - "Eternal rest give unto him, O Lord, - And let perpetual light shine upon him." - - -Then followed the solemn requiem Mass, wherein the great Sacrifice, once -offered on Calvary, was pleaded for the deceased. When the last prayer -had been said, the corpse was sprinkled with hallowed water, and -perfumed with sweet incense, after which it was removed to its last -resting place. The grave was also sprinkled with the hallowed water, -emblematical of the cleansing power of the "Blood of Sprinkling"; and -the body of the ancient thane was committed to the earth, sown in -corruption, to be raised in joy unspeakable, and full of glory. - -Around the grave were but few mourners. Famine, pestilence, and war had -removed from time to time those who had known the old thane in his -poverty (for thane he was by birth), but there stood two or three of a -different stamp from the care-worn peasants--men clad in jerkins of -leather, tall, rugged, resolute-looking fellows. One of these watched -Osric closely, and when the last rites were over and the grave-digger -commenced his final labour of filling up the grave, he followed the -funeral party on their homeward road, as they returned to the desolate -home. At last he approached Osric. - -"I believe you are Osric, grandson of the true Englishman we have now -laid in the earth?" - -"I am that unhappy man." - -"Thou art the son of a line of patriots. Thy father died fighting -against the oppressor, and thou art the sole representative of his -family. Canst thou remain longer in the halls of the tyrant?" - -"Who art thou?" - -"A true Englishman." - -"Thorold is thy name, is it not?" - -"How didst thou know me?" - -"Because my grandfather before he died revealed all to me." - -"Then thou wilt cast in thy lot with us?" - -"I think not. My father yet lives; you are mistaken in thinking him -dead. He is a monk in Dorchester Abbey." - -"He is dead at least to the world; Brian's lance and spear slew him, so -far as that is concerned." - -"But I go to ask his advice. I would fain leave this unhappy land and -join the Crusaders." - -"And renounce the hope of vengeance upon the slayer of thy kindred?" - -"I have eaten of his bread and salt." - -"And thou knowest all the secrets of his prison-house. Tell us, hast -thou heard of one Herwald, a follower of thy father?" - -"I may not tell thee;" and Osric shuddered. - -"The Normans have spoilt thee then, in _deed_ and in _truth_. Wilt thou -not even tell us whether Herwald yet lives?" - -"I may not for the present; if my father bid me tell thee, thou shalt -know. Leave me for the present; I have just buried my grandfather; let -me rest for the day at least." - -The outlaw, for such he was, ceased to importune him at this plaintive -cry; then like a man who takes a sudden resolution, stepped aside, and -Osric passed on. When he reached home he half expected to find a -messenger from Wallingford chiding his delay; then he sat a brief while -as one who hardly knows what to do, while old Judith brought him a -savoury stew, and bade him eat. Several times she looked at him, like -one who is burning to tell a secret, then pursed up her lips, as if she -were striving to repress a strong inclination to speak. - -At length Osric rose up. - -"Judith," he said, "I may stay here no longer." - -"Thou art going to Dorchester?" - -"I am." - -"What shall I say when the Lord of Wallingford sends for thee?" - -"That I am gone to Dorchester." - -"Will that satisfy them?" - -"I know not. It must." - -"I could tell thee all that thou wilt learn at Dorchester." - -"Do so. It may save me the journey." - -"I may not. I swore on the Gospels I would not tell the secret to -thy"--she paused--"to Wulfnoth." - -"What! another secret?" - -"Yes; and one thou dost not, canst not, suspect; but, I think, didst -thou know it, thou wouldst at once return to Wallingford Castle." - -"Tell me--tell me all." - -"Wouldst have me forsworn? No; seek thy _father_." She emphasised the -word, and then added, "Ask him to let me tell thee the whole truth, if -he will not do so himself; then return and learn more than thy dead -grandfather has told thee, or could have told thee, for he knew not the -truth." - -"Judith, I will seek my father, and return at once after I have seen -him." - -"But the roads are dangerous; beware!" - -Osric rose; put on his tunic over a coat of light chain mail; girded his -sword to his side; put on a leathern cap, padded inside with steel, for -in those days prudent men never travelled unarmed; then he bade Judith -farewell, and started for Dorchester, making for the Synodune Hills, -beyond which well-known landmarks Dorchester lay, and beneath the hills -was a ford across the Thames. - -He had not gone far--not half a mile--when he heard a rustling of the -branches beyond the brook, and a stern voice cried-- - -"Stand." - -"Who art thou?" he cried. - -"Good men and true, and thou art our prisoner." - -"If so, come and take me." - -"Wilt thou yield thyself unharmed, on the pledge that no harm is -intended thee?" - -"I will not. I know thee, Thorold: I seek Dorchester and my father." - -"Thou wilt hardly reach it or him to-day. Stand, I say, or we must take -thee by force." - -"No man shall make me go with him against my will," cried Osric, and -drew his sword. - -Thorold laughed and clapped his hands. Quick as thought five or six men -dashed from the covers which had hidden them in all directions. Osric -drew his sword, but before he could wield it against a foe who met him -face to face, another mastered his arms from behind, and he was a -prisoner. - -"Do him no harm; he is his father's son. We only constrain him for his -good. Bring him along." - -They led, or rather bore, him through the woods for a long distance, -until they came to a tangled swamp, situated amidst bog and quagmire, -wherein any other men save those acquainted with the path might easily -have sunk up to the neck, or even lost their lives; but in the centre -was a spot of firm ground, and there, beneath the shade of a large tree, -was a fire, before which roasted a haunch of venison, and to the right -and left were sleeping hutches, of the most primitive construction. - -"Canst thou eat?" - -"I will not eat with thee." - -"Thy father's son should not disdain thy father's friend. Listen; if we -have made thee a prisoner, it is to save thee from thyself. The son of a -true Englishman should not shed the blood of his countrymen, nor herd -with his oppressors. Has not thy grandfather taught thee as much?" - -"He has indeed; and no longer will I do so, I promise thee." - -"Then wilt thou go a little farther, and help us to deliver thy -country?" - -"Can it be delivered? What can _you_ do?" - -"Alas! little; but we do our best and wait better times. Look, my lad, -when things are at their worst the tide turns: the darkest hour is just -before the dawn. Think of this happy land--happy once--now the sport of -robbers and thieves! Think of the hideous dungeons where true Englishmen -rot! Think of the multitudes of innocent folk burnt, racked, tortured, -starved, driven to herd with the beasts! Think of the horrors of famine! -Think of the unburied dead--slain foully, and breeding a pestilence, -which oft destroys their murderers! Think, in short, of Wallingford -Castle and its lord----" - -A deep murmur of assent from the recumbent outlaws stretched on the turf -around. - -Osric's features twitched; he felt the force of the appeal. - -"What do you want of me?" - -"Our leader is a miserable captive in the devil's hold you have quitted, -and of which you know the secrets." - -"What can I do? They were told me in confidence. Can I break my honour?" - -"Confidence! honour! If you had promised the Devil's dam to sell your -soul, would you feel bound to do so?" - -"In short," said another, "we _will_ have the secret." - -"Nay, Grimbald, patience; he will come right in time. Force is no good -with such as he. He must do what is right, because it _is_ right; and -when he sees it, he will join us heart and soul, or he is not the son of -Wulfnoth." - -"He has shown little paternal care for me; yet when you seized me I was -about to seek his direction. Why not let me go, and let him decide for -me?" - -"A truce to folly. We know what Wulfnoth of old would have said, when -he was our leader. He gave himself heart and soul to the cause--to -avenge thy slaughtered kinsfolk. And now that one whom he trusted and -loved well is a prisoner in that hell which you have left, can we think -that he would hesitate about your duty? Why then waste time in -consulting him? I appeal to your conscience. Where is Herwald?" - -Osric was silent. - -"By the memory of thy grandfather." - -Still silence. - -"Of thy murdered mother, expiring in the flames which consumed thy -brothers and sisters." - -Osric gave a loud cry. - -"No more," he said, "no more; I will tell thee: Herwald lives." - -"Where?" - -"In the lowest dungeon of Wallingford Castle." - -"Hast thou seen him?" - -"Yes." - -"Does he suffer torture?" - -"Terribly." - -"Of what nature?" - -"I hardly dare to tell thee." - -"The sachentage?" - -"As bad as that; the crucet-chest--the----" - -"Stay--wilt thou help us to deliver him?" - -"Save my honour." - -"Honour! honour! honour!" and they laughed the word to scorn, till the -woods caught the echoes, and seemed to repeat it, "Honour! honour!" - -"Get that delusion out of thy mind. To fight for one's country, nay, to -die for it, that is true honour; to deliver the outcast and poor, to -save them from the hands of the ungodly,--it is for this we have brought -thee here. Let me tell thee what I have seen, nay, thou hast seen as -much, and of the woes of thy bleeding country, bleeding at every pore. -If the memory of thy mother stir thee not up, then thou art NIDDERING." - -At the sound of this word--this term of utter reproach to an English -ear, worse than "coward" a thousand times, suggesting a depth of -baseness beyond conception--Osric started. - -"And deservest to die," said the outlaw who had just spoken. - -Osric's pride took alarm at once; his downcast look changed. - -"Slay me, then," he said; "the sooner the better." - -"Nay, brother, that is not the way--thou wilt spoil it all; we would win -him by _conviction_, not by threats." - -"Let me have an hour to think." - -"Take some food." - -"No." - -They left him alone, but he knew he was watched, and could not escape, -nor did he wish to; he was yielding to his destiny. - -One hour of such mental anguish--the boast of chivalry, the pomp of -power, the false glamour, all giving way to the _conviction_ that the -Englishmen were _right_, and their cause that of truth and justice, nay, -of God! - -At the end of the hour he rose to his feet and looked around. The men -were seated at their repast. He approached them. - -"Give me of your food." - -They did so. Thorold's eyes sparkled with delight; he saw what it meant. - -They waited for him to speak; but he satisfied hunger first, then he -drank, and afterwards said calmly-- - -"Is there any oath of admission to your band?" - -"Only to swear to be true to England and Englishmen till death, and to -wage war against their oppressors, of whatsoever degree, with all your -powers. So help you God." - -Osric repeated the oath solemnly and distinctly. - -The outlaws shouted with joy. - -"And now," he said, "let us talk of Herwald, and I will do all I can to -help you to deliver him; but it will be a difficult task. I must take -time to consider it." - - ---- - -Meanwhile old Judith sat at home in the lonely hut, as she had done on -the occasion recorded in the fourth chapter of our tale. Again she sat -by the fire which smoked on the hearth, again she sang quaint snatches -of old songs. - -"It is a wise son which knows his own sire," she said, and going to a -corner of the hut, opened once more her poor old rickety chest, from -which she took the packet of musty parchment, containing a ring with a -seal, a few articles of infant attire, a little red shoe, a small frock, -and a lock of maiden's hair. - -"Poor Ethra," she said, "how strange thy fate!" and she kissed the lock -of hair again and again. "And now thy boy may inherit his father's -honours and titles unchecked, for his supposed grandfather is here no -longer to claim him, and his half-brothers are lepers. Wulfnoth never -loved him--never. Why, then, should he not give him up to his true -father? Vengeance! to be sure, he should not desire this now. A monk, -fie! fie! Wulfnoth might seek it; Father Alphege cannot, may not. He -will tell Osric the whole truth, or refer him to me; and he may go back -with a clear conscience to Wallingford; and I shall have the proofs -ready, which the Lord of Wallingford would give all he has to possess. -Here they are, stripped from the dead attendants or found on the -helpless babe." - -Just then she heard steps approaching; she jealously hid her treasures. - -A page dismounted from his horse at the door of the hut. - -"Is the squire Osric within?" - -"Enter." - -A youth of fourteen summers, just what Osric had been when he _began_, -entered the door, and looked curiously around. "What! was _this_ Osric's -home--Osric, the Baron's favourite?" - -"He has gone to Dorchester Abbey." - -"Dorchester Abbey! he was to have returned last night to Wallingford." - -"He stayed for the funeral." - -The boy looked amazed. What was an old man's funeral compared with -Brian's orders? - -"And his grandfather, dying, bade him go to Dorchester, whence he will -speedily return, and bring, yes, bring with him that shall make full -atonement for his offence, if offence it be." - -"It had need be something very valuable then. It might cost some of us -our heads, did we do the like." - -"They will not hurt a hair of his, I am sure. You shall have him with -you soon. Ah, yes! very soon." - -The boy shook his head, looked once more curiously at the old woman and -the hut, and departed, muttering-- - -"I should be sorry to stand in Osric's shoes; but then he is a -favourite;" and young Louis of Trouville, page to Brian for the good of -his education, rode down the brook. - -"After all, he is no gentleman. Why did my lord choose a page from -amongst the peasants?" - - ---- - -Many had asked that question before. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -THE PESTILENCE (AT BYFIELD) - - -The time had passed away slowly at the lazar-house at Byfield. Life was -tedious there to most people, least of all to the good Chaplain, Father -Ambrose; for he loved his poor lepers with a love which could only come -direct from Him Who loved us all. He did not feel time lag. Each day had -its appointed duties: in holy offices of prayer and praise, or in his -labour of love, the days sped on. He felt the strain, it is true, but he -bore it. He looked for no holiday here; it could never come. He was -cloistered and confined by that general belief in the contagion of -leprosy, which was so strong in the world that many would have slain a -leper had they met him outside the defined boundaries, or set their -mastiffs to tear him in pieces. - -One day Father Ambrose was seated in his cell after Terce, when one of -the attendants came to him with a serious and anxious face. - -"I should be glad for you to come and see Gaspard; he has been very ill -all night, and there are some strange symptoms about him." - -The Chaplain rose, and followed the "keeper" into the chamber above, -where in a small "cubicle," separated by a screen from the other -couches, the sick man tossed. - -"He is delirious; how long has he been so?" - -"Nearly all the night." - -"And in a raging fever?--but this blackness; I never saw one so dark -before." - -It was, alas, too true. The body was fast assuming a strange dark, yet -livid, hue, as if the blood were ink instead of red blood. - -"Lift up the left arm," said the Chaplain. - -Near the armpits were two or three swellings about the size of a -pigeon's egg. The Chaplain saw them and grew serious. - -"It is the black fever--the plague!" almost screamed the horrified -attendant. - -"Keep cool, brother John; nothing is gained by excitement, and all is -lost by fear; put your trust in God." - -"But I have _touched_ him--drawn in his infected breath--I am a dead -man." - -The Chaplain heeded him not. - -"Brother, canst thou speak?" he said to the sick man. - -A moan was the only reply. - -"Brother, dost thou know that thou art dying?" - -A moan again. - -"And that the best of us have not lived as we should?" - -Another sigh, so dolorous. - -"And dost thou believe that God's dear Son died for thee?" - -A faint gesture of assent. - -"Say thou, brother, 'I put the pitiful Passion of Thy dear Son between -me and my sins.'"[26] - -"I do, oh God. Sweet Jesus, save me." - -And then he relapsed into an unconscious state, in which he continued -till he died. - -"We must bury him directly, brother John." - -The attendant shuddered. - -"Yes, we two; we have been in danger, no one else need come. You go and -tell the grave-digger to have the grave ready directly, and the moment -it is ready we two will bury him." - -"Oh God! I am a dead man," said poor brother John. - -"Nay, we cannot die till our time come, and if so, the way HE chooses -is best. We all owe HIM a death, you know. Fear is the worst thing you -can entertain now; it brings on the very thing you dread. Overcome -_that_, at all events, if you can." - -And the poor frightened fellow went out to do as he was bidden. - -Then the brave and good man composed the corpse; placed a crucifix on -its breast; drew the bed-clothes round it to serve as a winding-sheet, -for they must be buried or burned; said the commendatory prayers; and -walked for a time in the fresh air. - -He knew his own danger, but he heeded it not. All things, he was -persuaded, worked together for good to them that loved God; besides, -what had he to live for?--his poor sheep--the lepers? Yes; but God could -raise up a better man than he, so in his humility he thought; and if he -were--called home---- - -Did not the thought of that Purgatory, which was in the Creed of his -time, come between him and the notion of rest? - -Not at all; he was content to leave all that; if his Father thought he -needed such correction, he was willing to pass through it; and like a -dear son to kiss the rod, as he had done on earth, safe in the hands of -his Father. - -Neither did his thoughts turn much to the Saints. Of course he believed, -as every one did then, that it was right to invoke them--and he had done -so that day in the prescribed commendatory prayers for the dying; but, -as stars fade away in the presence of the sun, so did all these things -fade away before his love for the central sun of his soul--his crucified -Lord. - -The hours passed away in rapt emotion; he never felt so happy as that -afternoon. - -Then came the grave-digger. - -"The grave is ready." - -"Tell brother John to come and help." - -"I do not think he is able; he seems unwell himself." - -"Then you and I must do it." - -"Willingly--where you lead I follow." - -"Come up the stairs." - -They went to the dormitory; took the sad burden, wrapped in the -bed-clothing as it was, and bore it to the grave; the priest said the -burial office; the grave-digger filled up the grave; and all was over -with poor Gaspard. - -But before that sun set the Chaplain was called to brother John, and -that same night the poor fellow died of the fever--fear, doubtless, -having been a predisposing cause. - -The terror began; the facts could not long be concealed. At Evensong -that night the Chaplain spoke to them in a short address, so full of -vivid faith and Christian hope that those who heard it never forgot -it.--"Why should they fear death? They had led a living death, a dying -life, these many years. Their exile was over. The Father called them -home. They had long done with this wretched world. The Christian's true -fatherland was Heaven." - -So he spoke rather like an Angel than a man. But they could not all rise -to it--how could it be expected? life clings to life. When Newgate was -on fire in the great riots, the most anxious to be saved were some -condemned criminals left for execution on the morrow. - -But for a select few, all fear was gone. - -Such men were needed: they had their senses about them; they could help -others to the last; they, and they alone, dared to attend the dying, to -bury the dead. - -Now came the great trial--the confinement. The lepers mutinied against -being shut up with death, they longed for liberty, they panted for it; -they would not be imprisoned with the plague. - -Then began positive fighting. The poor patients had to be restrained by -main force, until the Chaplain came, and by his great power over their -minds, persuaded them to stay. - -Every one was asking, "How came it amongst us?" and the mystery was -explained when they were told of a bale of cloth for their tailor -consigned to the house from the _Levant, via_ Bristol, and which in all -the long tedious voyage had retained the infection ever living in the -East. - -Day by day fresh victims were carried to the grave. The plague was -probably simply a malignant form of typhus, nourished in some human -hotbed to the highest perfection. The _bacillus_ or germ is, we trust, -extinct, but otherwise enough might be bred in a bottle to poison a -county, as we have heard stated. - -All at once the heaviest blow fell upon them. - -Father Ambrose was walking in the grounds, taking rest of mind after -intense mental and bodily exertion, when he felt a sudden throb of -violent heat, followed by an intense chill and a sickening sensation -accompanied by faintness. He took off his cassock--he saw the fatal -swelling. - -"My summons is come," he said. "Oh, my Father, I thank Thee for calling -me home; but these poor sheep whom Thou hast committed to my care, what -shall they do?" - -Then he walked quietly to his cell and lay down on his bed. He had -watched the disease in others; he entertained no hope of recovery. "In a -few hours I shall see Him face to face Whom I have loved," said he. - -They came and found him. Never was man more patient; but that mediaeval -idea of intense self-denial was with him to the last. He refused water: -they thought him delirious. - -"HE would not drink," he said. - -They saw his thoughts were on the Cross, and that he was treading the -pathway opened by the Crucified One, and they said no more. - -He had received the Holy Communion that morning--his last Communion; the -usual rites could not be attempted now. Before he relapsed into the last -stage, they heard the words in his native tongue-- - - - "Mon Dieu! Mon Dieu! ouvrez moi." - - -They were his last. The door was open and he had entered. Ah, who shall -follow even in imagination, and trace his progress to the gates of day? - - - "Go wing thy flight from star to star, - From world to luminous world, as far - As the universe spreads its flaming hall: - Take all the pleasures of all the spheres, - And multiply each through endless years, - One moment of Heaven is worth them all." - - -But those left behind in the lazar-house--ah me! deprived of the only -man who had gained an empire over their hearts, and could control -them--what of them? - -They lost _all_ control, and broke through all discipline; they -overpowered their keepers, who indeed scarcely tried their best to -restrain them, sharing the common fear; they broke the gates open; they -poured forth and dispersed all through the country, carrying the -infection wherever they went. - -Still this was not a very wide scope; the woods, the forests, were their -chief refuge. And soon the story was told everywhere. It was heard at -the lordly towers of Warwick; it was told at the stately pile of -Kenilworth; it was proclaimed at Banbury. It startled even those violent -men who played with death, to be told that a hundred lepers were loose, -carrying the double curse of plague and leprosy wherever they went. - -"It must be stamped out," said the stern men of the day: "we must hunt -them down and slay them." - -So they held a council at Banbury, where all the neighbouring -barons--who were generally of one party in that neighbourhood--took -counsel. - -They decided that proclamation should be everywhere made; that if the -lepers returned to the lazar-house at Byfield within three days, all -should be forgiven; but otherwise, that the barons should collect their -savage hounds, and hunt them down in the forest. - -And this was the very forest where we left poor Evroult dying--the -forest of the hermitage which these poor lepers were tolerably sure to -find out, and to seek shelter. - -And here we will leave our poor friends for a while, and return to -Wallingford Castle. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[26] This is an extant form of those ages for the reconciliation of a -penitent at the last gasp. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE OPENING OF THE PRISON HOUSE - - -Great was the surprise and anger of Brian Fitz-Count that his favourite -page should dare to tarry, even to bury his grandfather, much less to -fulfil an idle vow, when he had bidden him return at once. - -He cared so little for sacred things, whether the true gold of the mint, -or the false superstitions of the age, that he could not understand how -they should influence other men. - -Yet he knew they did exercise a strong power over both the imagination -and the will, and sometimes had acknowledged that the world must have a -religion, and this was as good as any other. - -"Let Osric believe as much or as little as he likes," he said, "only he -must remember that Brian Fitz-Count is the deity to be worshipped in -Wallingford Castle, and that he allows no other worship to interfere -with that due to him." - -The next morning Osric reappeared, and at once sought the presence of -his lord. - -"Thou art more than a day behind?" - -"I tarried to bury my grandfather, and to execute a vow in his behalf." - -"That is well; but remember, Osric, I permit none here to disobey my -orders, either for the sake of the living or the dead. He _is_ dead, -then?" - -"He died the night I arrived." - -"May he rest in peace," said Brian carelessly, feeling glad in his -heart that the old man was gone, and that there was no one left to -dispute his dominion over the heart of Osric. - -"But for my grandfather's vow I had returned last night after the -funeral. I have discharged my debt to him, and beg pardon for my delay. -I now belong to you." - -It was strange, however, the wooden tone in which he spoke, like a -schoolboy reciting a lesson. - -"And thou shalt find in me a father, if thou always continuest to -deserve it--as by obedience thou hast hitherto done--save this lapse, in -place of him whom thou hast lost." - -"Am I to go to Shirburne?" - -"I have sent Malebouche. There are certain matters of business to talk -over. I want thee to turn scribe for the rest of the day, and write -letters for me. It is a thing I could never accomplish. All I can do is -to sign my name, or better still, affix my seal. My pen has been the -sword, my book the country around; wherein I write my black characters, -as men say." - -Yes, he did indeed, and the fame remains till this day. - -So all the rest of the day Osric wrote at his lord's dictation. There -was some especial correspondence with the leaders of the party, and that -night messengers were speeding north, south, east, and west with the -missives Osric had penned. - -Late in the day, while Osric was walking on the ramparts, a page came -after him and bade him hasten to the bower of the Lady Maude. The manner -was urgent, and he went at once. - -He found the lady in tears, surrounded by her handmaidens, who were -standing on each side of her "curule" chair, endeavouring in vain to -console her. - -The Baron was striding up and down the spacious room, which, as we have -said, overlooked the river. - -"Read this, Osric," he said, and put a letter into his hands. "I can but -half understand it." - -Osric read. The letter came from the governor of the lazar-house, and -contained a succinct account of the terrible visitation we have recorded -in our last chapter. - -"But our boys are at the hermitage, dame," said Brian; "they are safe; -you need not weep." - -Osric read on--how that the lepers had broken loose and taken to the -woods. Then came the significant close: "So the neighbouring barons and -knights of all degrees are gathering together their dogs, to hunt them -in the woods; and I greatly fear lest harm happen to thy sons, who have -been, with thy permission, left to the care of the hermit Meinhold, -dwelling within the same forest." - -It was a terrible thought to the poor mother: the affliction of her boys -was the great burden of her life. Yet the customs of the age had -required the sacrifice of her. She had been forbidden, perhaps it was -kind, to visit them, lest the sight of their state should but increase -her woe; but they were never long out of her thoughts. - -"Husband! father! thou must go and protect them, or I will go myself." - -"Enough, Maude, enough; I will start at once with a troop of a hundred -men, and whatever they do in the rest of the forest, methinks I shall -enforce respect for the hermit's cave--where we are told they are so -happy. Osric, send Osborne to me for orders at once." - -"Am I to go, my lord?" - -"No; you must remain here, I have special reasons. You will be in -attendance on the Lady Maude." - -Osric's eyes glistened. - -"You will see that certain orders I shall leave are carried out, in -reference to the business in which you are employed. If any question -your right to command, and refuse obedience, show them this ring. You -see how I trust you, my son." - -"Would he were our son," sobbed the Lady Maude; "but I have none to -comfort me; my poor boys, torn from me--torn from me. Hasten, my lord; -it is far to Byfield--very far; you may not be in time." - -"I will bring thee the hands and feet of any who have dared to harm -them." - - ---- - -That same hour the Baron departed with his troop, and Osric was busy for -a while in executing his commission. He occupied his own little chamber -in the keep; it was at a great height above the hill on which the lofty -tower was raised, and the view of the country was most extensive. - -When nightfall came, Osric was here alone, and he did a very singular -thing. - -He lit a lamp, and placed it in his window; then he took it away in a -very undecided fashion; then he replaced it again; then he took it away, -and finally replaced it. - -"The die is cast," he said. - -Two roads lay before him,--it was an awful crisis in his life,--two -roads, utterly different, which could only lead to most opposite issues, -and the strife was _which_ to choose. The way was yet open. - -But to enter either he must break his faith. Here lay the sting to his -generous heart. - -The one road led to honour, to riches, to power, to glory even; and had -all which could delight a young warrior's mind, but coupled with the -support of foul tyranny, the uprooting of the memory of his kindred and -their woes, and the breaking of his newly-pledged faith to the outlaws. - -The other road led to a life of obscurity and poverty, perhaps to a -death of ignominy, and certainly began with an act of treachery towards -one who, however cruel to others, had loved and trusted him, of which -the ring he bore was a token and a pledge. - -It was when he thought of this that he withdrew the light. - -Then came the remembrance of the sufferers in the foul dens below. - -"It is the cause of God, and truth, and freedom, and justice, and all -that is holy;" and he replaced the light. - -Then he knelt; he could pray now-- - -"Oh God, direct me--help me--show some token of Thine approval this -night. Even now I believe in Thee as my grandfather did. Oh save me, and -help Thy poor oppressed ones this night; deliver them from darkness and -the shadow of death, and break their bonds asunder." - -Then he went to attend at the supper of the Lady Maude, where he was -received with marked attention. He had of course been trained in all the -etiquette exacted from pages and squires, and was expected to make -himself agreeable in a hundred ways, to carve the joints with elegance, -and to wait upon the ladies. - -This part of his duty he had often delighted to execute, but to-night he -was "distrait." The poor lady was in so much grief herself at the danger -of her sons, whom she had not seen for five years, that she did not -notice his abstraction, as she otherwise certainly would have done. - -Then it fell ordinarily to the province of the squires and pages to -amuse the party,--to sing songs, recite romaunts, play the troubadour, -or to join in such games as chess and draughts, lately imported from the -East, with the fair ladies of the little court,--when they dined, or -rather supped, in private as now. But no songs were sung this night--no -tales of valour or chivalry recited; and the party broke up early. -Compline was said by the chaplain who was present, for in the bower of -so great a lady there must be respect for forms; and then the fair ones -went to bed. - -Osric was now at liberty. - -"Art thou for a composing draught to-night, my squire?" said the -chaplain. "I can compound a fair night-cap for an aching head, if thou -wilt come to my cell." - -"Nay, my calls are urgent now; I have been detained too long by my -duties as a squire of dames. I have orders for our worthy gaoler Tustain -and his sons." - -"Not to put any prisoners on the rack to-night? it is late for that; let -the poor things rest till to-morrow." - -"It is not to that effect that my orders run." - -"They say you did not like that kind of thing at first." - -"Neither do I now, but I have perforce got used to it." - -"_Bon soir_;" and the chaplain sauntered off to drink mulled sack. It -was a shocking thing that the Church, in his person, should set her seal -of approbation on such tyranny as that of a Norman hold in Stephen's -days. - -Osric descended to the foot of the tower, crossed the greensward, and -entered the new dungeons of Brian's Close. On the ground-floor were the -apartments of Tustain the gaoler, extending over the whole basement of -the tower and full of the hateful implements of his office. - -There were manacles, gyves, and fetters. There were racks and -thumbscrews, scourges, pincers, and other instruments of mediaeval -cruelty. There were arms of various kinds--swords, axes, lances, bows -and arrows, armour for all parts of the body, siege implements, and the -like. There were lanterns and torches for the service of the dungeons. -There were rows of iron basons, plates, and cups for the food of the -prisoners. Lastly, there were many huge keys. - -In the midst of all this medley stood a solid oak table, and thereat sat -Tustain the gaoler-in-chief--now advanced in years and somewhat impotent -on his feet, but with a heart as hard as the nether millstone--with his -three sons, all gaolers, like himself, eating their supper. A fairly -spread table was before them--very different from the fare they supplied -to their prisoners, you may be sure. - -"We have locked up for the night, and are taking our ease, Master -Osric." - -"I grieve to disturb thy ease, but my lord has sent me to thee, -Tustain." - -"He must be some leagues away at this moment." - -"But he has left orders by me; see his ring." - -Tustain recognised the token in a moment, and bowed before it. - -"Wilt not take some food? Here is a noble haunch of venison, there some -good trout, there some wood-pigeons in a pie--fish, flesh, and fowl." - -"Nay, I have just supped with our lady." - -"Thou art fortunate. I remember when thou wert brought in here with thy -grandfather as a prisoner, and saw the torture-chamber for the first -time." - -"More startling changes have happened, and may yet; but my business--Art -tired, my men?" - -"We have had little to do to-day--no raid, no convoy of goods to pursue, -no fighting, no hunting; it has been dull." - -"But there is work afoot _now_, and stern work. You, Richard, must take -horse and bear this letter to Shirburne, where you must give it to -Malebouche, and wait his orders; you, Tristam, must carry this to -Faringdon Castle, and bring back a reply; you, Aubrey, to the Castle of -the Black Lady of Speen." - -They looked astonished--as well they might--to be sent out for rides, of -some fifteen miles each, at that hour. - -But the ring--like the genii who were the slaves of the Lamp, so were -they slaves of the Ring. - -"And who will help me with the prisoners?" said Tustain. - -"You are permitted to call in such of the men-at-arms as you please." - -"Why did he not send men-at-arms? You are sure he said my sons were to -go? Why, if we were suddenly called to put any of my lambs to the -torture, these men-at-arms would hardly know how to do it." - -"You could direct them," said Osric. Then to the sons, "Now, my men, -haste speed." - -In half an hour they were gone. - -"A cup of sack for consolation--the best wine from our lord's own -cellar. I have brought thee a flask." - -"Wilt thou stay and help me discuss it?" - -"For a few minutes only; I have much yet to do." - -Osric produced the flask from the gypsire which hung from the belt of -his tunic. - -Then the old man took down two goblets, and Osric poured the wine. - -The old man drank freely; Osric but sparingly. Soon the former began to -talk incoherently, and at last he cried-- - -"What wine was that? Why, it was Old Nick's own brewing. I can't keep my -eyes open." - -Half suspecting something amiss, the old man rose, as if going to the -door; but Osric threw his arms around him, and as he did so the old man -gave way to the influence of the powerful narcotic which the youth had -mingled with his drink, and fell like a log on the couch to which Osric -had dragged him. - -"I hope I have not killed him; but if I have it is only half his -deserts. Now for my perilous task. How this ring has helped me!" - -He went first and strongly barred the outer door, then traversed the -upper corridor till he came to a room in the new buildings, which was a -private den of the Baron. It was panelled with oak, and pressing a knob -on the panel, a secret door opened, disclosing a flight of steps. These -went down into the bowels of the earth; then a narrow passage opened at -right angles to the corridor above, which Osric traversed. It was damp -and slimy, and the air had a deathly odour; but it soon came to an end, -and Osric ascended a similar flight of steps to the one by which he had -descended; again he drew out the key and opened an iron door at the -summit. He stood upon a terrace at the edge of the river, and just upon -a level with the water. - -The night was dark and stormy--not a star could be seen. The stream -rippled by as Osric stood and listened. The clock struck twelve, or -rather the man on duty with an iron hammer struck the bell in the tower -of St. Peter's Church twelve times with his hammer to tell the midnight -hour. A few minutes of feverish suspense--the night air fanned his -heated brow--when he heard muffled oars close by, heard rather the -splash of the water as it fell from the upraised blades. A large boat -was at hand. - -"Who comes?" said Osric in a low voice. - -"Englishmen, good and true." - -The outlaws stood on the terrace. - -"Follow me," said Osric. - -In a few minutes they were all assembled in the heart of the stronghold -in the gaoler's room, where the gaoler himself lay snoring like a hog. - -"Shall we slay him?" said they, naturally looking on the brute with -abhorrence. - -"No," said Osric; "remember our compact--no bloodshed save in -self-defence. He will sleep till this time to-morrow night, when I fear -Brian will do for him what he has done for thousands." - -"What is that?" - -"Hang him." - -"He deserves it. Let the gaoler and the hangman hang." - -"Amen." - -"Now for the keys," said Thorold. - -Osric knew them all, and taking them, led the liberators down below, -into the gloomy corridor from which the dungeons opened on either side. -The men shuddered as they stood between these dens of cruelty, from -which moans, faint and low, from time to time issued like the sighing of -the plaintive wind. - -One by one they opened these dens, and took the prisoners out. Many were -too weak, from torture and privation, to stand, and had to be supported. -They hardly understood at first what it all meant; but when they knew -their deliverers, were delirious with joy. - -At last they came to the cell where the "crucet-box" was placed, and -there they found Herwald. Osric opened the chest, of which the lid was -only a framework of iron bars. He was alive, and that was all; his hair -was white as snow, his mind almost gone. - -"Are the angels come to take me out of Purgatory?" he said. - -"Herwald, do you not know me?" said Thorold. - -It was vain; they could evoke no memory. - -Then they went to the torture-chamber, where a plaintive, whimpering -cry struck their ears. In the corner stood a boy on tiptoes; a thin cord -attached to a thumbscrew, imprisoning both his poor thumbs, was passed -over a pulley in the ceiling, and then tied to a peg in the wall, so -that the poor lad could only find firm footing at the expense of the -most exquisite pain; and so he had been left for the night, the accursed -iron eating into the flesh of his thumbs all the time. - -"My boy! my boy!" said Thorold, and recognised his own son Ulric, whom -he had only lost that week, and traced to the castle--hence his anxiety -for Osric's immediate aid--and the poor father wept. - -Happily Osric had the key of the thumbscrew, and the lad was soon set -free. - -"Break up all the instruments of torture," said Thorold. - -Axes were at their girdles: they smashed all the hateful paraphernalia. -No sound could possibly be heard above; the depth of the dungeons and -the thickness of the walls gave security. - -"Lock up all the cells, all the outer doors, and bring the keys; we will -throw them into the river." - -It took a long time to get the poor disabled victims through the -passages--many had to be carried all the way; but they were safely -brought to the large boat, and placed on beds of straw or the like; not -one sentinel taking the alarm, owing to the darkness and the storm. - -"Now for Dorchester Abbey," said Osric. "We must take sanctuary, before -daybreak, for all these poor captives, they are incapable of any other -mode of escape." - -"And we will attend as an escort," said the outlaws. "Then for the -forest." - -So Osric atoned for his residence in Wallingford Castle. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -THE SANCTUARY - - -The heavily-laden boat ascended the stream with its load of rescued -captives, redeemed from their living death in the dungeons of Brian's -stronghold. - -The night continued intensely dark, a drizzling rain fell; but all this -was in favour of the escape. Upon a moonlight night this large boat must -have been seen by the sentinels, and followed. - -There was of course no "lock" at Bensington in those days, consequently -the stream was much swifter than now; and it was soon found that the -load they bore in their barge was beyond the strength of the rowers. But -this was easily remedied: a towing rope was produced, and half a dozen -of Thorold's band drew the bark up stream, while another half-dozen -remained on board, steered or rowed, or attended to the rope at the head -of the boat, as needed. - -Osric was with them: he intended to go to Dorchester and see his father, -and obtain his approbation of the course he was pursuing and direction -for the future. - -All that night the boat glided up stream; their progress was, of -necessity, slow. The groans of the poor sufferers, most of whom had -endured recent torture, broke the silence of the night, otherwise -undisturbed, save by the rippling of the water against the prow of the -boat. - -That night ever remained fixed in the memory of Osric,--the slow ascent -of the stream; the dark banks gliding by; the occasional cry of the men -on the shore, or the man at the prow, as the rope encountered -difficulties in its course; the joy of the rescued, tempered with -apprehension lest they should be pursued and recaptured, for they were, -most of them, quite unable to walk, for every one was more or less -crippled; the splash of the rain; the moan of the wind; the occasional -dash of a fish,--all these details seemed to fix themselves, trifles as -they were, on the retina of the mind. - -Osric meditated much upon his change of life, but he did not now wish to -recall the step he had taken. His better feelings were aroused by the -misery of those dungeons, and by the approbation of his better self, in -the contemplation of the deliverance he had wrought. - -While he thus pondered a soft hand touched his; it was that of the boy, -the son of Thorold, who had been chained to the wall by means of the -thumbscrew locked upon his poor thumbs.[27] - -"Do your thumbs pain you now?" asked Osric. - -"Not so much; but the place where the bar crossed them yet burns--the -pain was maddening." - -"Dip this linen in the stream, and bind it round them; they will soon be -well. Meanwhile you have the satisfaction that your brave endurance has -proved your faithfulness: not many lads had borne as much." - -"I knew it was life or death to my father; how then could I give way to -the accursed Norman?" - -"Pain is sometimes a powerful reasoner. How did they catch you?" - -"I was sent on an errand by my father, and a hunting party saw and -chased me; they questioned me about the outlaws, till they convinced -themselves I was one, and brought me to the castle, where they put on -the thumbscrew, and told me there it should remain till I told them all -the secrets of the band--especially their hiding-places. I moaned with -the pain, but did not utter a word; and they left me, saying I should -soon confess or go mad; then God sent you." - -"Yes, God had sent him." Osric longed no more for the fleshpots of -Egypt. - -Just as the autumnal dawn was breaking they arrived at the junction of -Tame and Isis, and the Synodune Hills rose above them. They ascended the -former stream, and followed its winding course with some difficulty, as -the willows on the bank interfered with the proper management of the -boat, until they came to the abbey-wharf. They landed; entered the -precincts, bearing those who could neither walk nor limp, and supporting -those who limped, to the hospitium. - -They were in sanctuary. - -In the city of refuge, and safe while they remained there. Whatever -people may think of monasteries now, they thanked God for them then. It -is quite true that in those dreadful days even sanctuary was violated -from time to time, but it was not likely to be so in this instance. -Brian Fitz-Count respected the forms and opinions of the Church, -outwardly at least; although he hated them in his inward heart, -especially when they came between him and his prey. - -The good monks of Dorchester were just emerging from the service of -Lauds, and great was their surprise to see the arrival of this multitude -of impotent folk. However, they enacted their customary part of good -Samaritans at once, under the direction of the infirmarer--Father -Alphege himself--who displayed unwonted sympathy and activity when he -learned that they were refugees from Wallingford dungeons; and promised -that all due care should be taken of the poor sufferers. - -There had been one or two Jews amongst the captives, but they had not -entered the precincts, seeking refuge with a rabbi in the town. - -When they had seen their convoy safe, the outlaws returned to their -haunts in the forest, taking Ulric, son of Thorold, with them, but -leaving poor Herwald in the hands of Father Alphege, secure of his -receiving the very best attention. Poor wretch! his sufferings had been -so great and so prolonged in that accursed den, or rather chest, that -his reason was shaken, his hair prematurely gray, his whole gait and -bearing that of a broken-down old man, trembling at the least thing that -could startle him, anon with piteous cries beseeching to be let out, as -if still in his "crucet-box." - -"Thou art out, my poor brother, never to return," said Alphege. "Surely, -my Herwald, thou knowest me! thou hast ridden by my side in war and -slept beside me in peace many and many a time." - -Herwald listened to the tones of his voice as if some chord were struck, -but shook his head. - -"He will be better anon," said the Father; "rest and good food will do -much." - -While thus engaged the great bell rang for the Chapter Mass, which was -always solemnly sung, being the choral Mass of the day; and the brethren -and such guests as were able entered the hallowed pile. Osric was -amongst them. He had not gone with the outlaws; he had done his duty by -them; he now claimed to be at his father's disposal. - -For the first time in a long period he felt all the old associations of -his childhood revive--all the influences of religion, never really -abjured, kindle again. He could hardly attend to the service. He did not -consciously listen to the music or observe the rites, but he felt it all -in his inmost soul; and as he knelt all the blackness of his sinful -participation in deeds of cruelty and murder--for it was little -else--all the baseness of his ingratitude in allowing, nay, nurturing, -unbelief in his soul, in trying, happily very successfully, _not_ to -believe in God, came upon him. - -He had come to consult his natural father, as he thought, and to offer -himself to his direction as an obedient son: he now rather sought the -priest, and reconciliation as a prodigal to his Heavenly Father as the -first step necessary, for in those days penitence always found vent in -such confession. - -But both father and priest were united in Alphege; and after the Chapter -Mass he sought the good infirmarer, and craved of his charity to make -his confession. - -Will it be believed? his father did not know him. It was indeed years -since they had met, and it was perhaps difficult to recognise the child -in this young warrior, now come to man's estate--at least to man's -height and stature. - -Alphege marked the tear-bedewed cheek, the choking voice; he knew the -signs of penitence; he hesitated not for a moment. - -"My son, I am not the _paenitentiarius_ who ordinarily receives strangers -to Confession." - -"But I wish to come to thee. Oh, father, I have fought against it, and -almost did Satan conquer in me: refuse me not." - -"Nay, my son; I cannot refuse thee." - -And they entered the church. - -Father Alphege had composed himself in the usual way for the monotonous -recitation of human sin--all too familiar to his ears--but as he heard -he became agitated in himself. The revelation was clear, none could -doubt it: he recognised the penitent. - -"My son," he said at the close, "thy sin has been great, very great. -Thou hast joined in ill-treating men made in the image of God; thou art -stained with blood; thy sin needs a heavy penance." - -"Name it, let it be ever so heavy." - -"Go thou to the Holy Land, take the Cross, and employ thy talents for -war in the cause of the Lord." - -"I could desire nothing better, father." - -"On that condition I absolve thee;" and the customary formula was -pronounced. - -A hard "condition" indeed! a meet penance! Osric might still gratify his -taste for fighting, without sin. - -They left the church--Osric as happy as he could be. A great weight was -lifted off his mind. It was only in such an age that a youth, loving -war, might still enjoy his propensity as a religious penance. _Similia -similibus curantur_, says the old proverb. - -The two walked in the cloisters. - -"My father--for thou knowest thy son now--I am wholly in thy hands. -Hadst thou bidden me, I had joined the outlaws, and fought for my -country. Now thou must direct me." - -"Were there even a _chance_ of successful resistance, my son, I would -bid thee stay and fight the Lord's battle here; but it is hopeless. What -can such desultory warfare do? No, our true hope lies now in the son of -the Empress--the descendant of our old English kings, for such he is by -his mother's side--Henry Plantagenet. He will bridle these robbers, and -destroy their dens of tyranny." - -"But Brian is fighting on that side." - -"And when the victory is gained, as it will be, it will cut short such -license as the Lord of Wallingford now exercises,--destroy these robber -castles, the main of them, put those that remain under proper control, -drive these 'free lances' out of England, and restore the reign of -peace." - -"May I not then assist the coming of that day?" - -"How couldst thou? Thou canst never return to Wallingford, or take part -in the horrible warfare, which, nevertheless, is slowly working out -God's Will. No; go abroad, as thou art now _bound_ to do, and never -return to England until thou canst do so with honour." - -"Thou biddest me go at once?" - -"Without wasting a day." - -"What steps must I take?" - -"Dost thou know a moated grange called Lollingdune, in the parish of -Chelseye?" - -"Well." - -"It is an infirmary for Reading Abbey, and the Abbot is expected -to-morrow; thou must go, furnished with credentials from our Abbot -Alured. The Abbot of Reading is a mitred abbot, and has power to accept -thy vows and make thee a knight of the Cross. I doubt if even Brian -would dare touch thee then; but keep out of his way till that time; go -not by way of Wallingford." - -"That were madness. I will make across country." - -"And now, dear son, come to noon-meat; I hear the refectory bell." - - ---- - -To the south-west of the village of Cholsey (Chelseye) the Berkshire -downs sink into the level plain of the valley of the Thames. Here, -therefore, there was that broken ground which always accompanies the -transition from a higher to a lower level, and several spurs of the -higher ranges stretch out into the plain like peninsulas; while in other -places solitary hills, like islands, which indeed they once were, stand -apart from the mainland of hills. - -One of these hill islands was thickly clothed with wood in those days, -as indeed it is now. And to the north-west there lay a "moated grange." - -A deep moat, fed by streams which arose hard by, enclosed half an acre -or less of ground. This had been laid out as a "pleasaunce," and in the -centre was placed a substantial house of stone, of ecclesiastical -design. It was a country residence of the monks of Reading Abbey, where -they sent sick brethren who needed change of air, to breathe the -refreshing breezes which blow off the downs. - -Such a general sense of insecurity, however, was felt all over the -country by clericals and laics alike, that they dug this deep moat, and -every night drew up their drawbridge, leaving the enclosure under the -protection of huge and faithful mastiffs, who had been taught to -reverence a monk's cassock at night, but to distrust all parties wearing -lay attire, whether of mail or otherwise. - -A level plain, between outlying spurs of the downs, lay to the west, -partly grazing land, partly filled with the primeval forest, and boggy -and dangerous in places. Here the cows of the abbey grazed, which -supplied the convalescents with the milk so necessary in their cases; -but every night each member of the "milky herd" was carefully housed -inside the moat. - -There was great preparation going on at the grange of Lollingdune, so -called from its peculiar position at the foot of the hill. The Abbot of -Reading, as we have elsewhere learned, was expected on the morrow. He -was a mighty potentate; thrice honoured; had a seat in the great council -of the kingdom; wore a mitre; was as great and grand as a bishop, and so -was reverenced by all the lesser fry. - -So the cooks were busy. The fatted calf was slain, several fowls had to -pay the debt of nature, carp were in stew; various wines were -broached--Malmsey, Osey, Sack, and such like; devices in pastry -executed, notably a pigeon-pie, with a superincumbent mitre in -pie-crust; and many kinds of sweets were curiously and wonderfully made. - -At the close of the day sweet tinkling bells announced the approach of -the cavalcade over the ridge of the hill to the eastward; and soon a -dozen portly monks, mounted on sleek mules, with silver bells on their -trappings, for they did not affect the warlike horse, and accompanied -meetly by lay attendants, laden with furniture and provisions for the -Abbot's comfort, approached by the "under-down" road, which led from the -gorge of the Thames at Streatley. The whole community turned out to meet -them, and there was such an assembly of dark robes that the bailiff of -the farm jocosely called it "Rook-Fair." - -"_Pax vobiscum fratres omnes, clerici atque laici._ I have come to -repose my weary limbs amongst you, but by St. Martin the air of these -downs is fresh, and will make us relish the venison pasty, or other -humble fare we may receive for the sustenance of our flesh. How are all -the invalids?" - -"They be doing well," said Father Hieronymus, the senior of the monks at -Lollingdune; "and say that the sight of their Abbot will be a most -salutary medicament." - -The Abbot smiled; he liked to think himself loved. - -"But who is this youth in lay attire?" and he smiled sweetly, for he -liked to see a handsome youth. - -"It is one Osric, who has brought letters commendatory from the Abbot of -Dorchester." - -"Our brother Alured--is he well?" - -"He is well, my lord," replied Osric, as he bent the knee. - -"And what dost thou seek, sweet son? dost wish to become a novice of our -poor house of St. Benedict?" - -"Nay, my good lord, it is in another vocation I wish to serve God." - -"And that,--ah, I guess thou wishest to take the Cross and go to the -Holy Land." - -"I do with all my heart." - -"And this letter assures me that thou art a fitting person, and skilled -in the use of carnal weapons." - -"I trust I am." - -"Then thou shalt share our humble fare this night, and then thou shalt -on the morrow take the vow and receive the Cross from my own hands, -after the Mass which follows Terce." - -Osric bowed in joyful assent. And that night he dined at the monastic -table of Lollingdune Grange. The humble fare was the most sumptuous he -had ever known; for at Wallingford Castle they paid small attention to -the culinary art--quantity, not quality, was their motto; they ate of -meat half raw, thinking it increased their ferocity; and "drank the red -wine through the helmet barred." - -But it was not so here; the weakness of the monastic orders, if it was a -weakness, was good cooking. - -"Why should we waste or spoil the good things God has given us?" they -asked. - -We wish our space permitted us to relate the conversation which had -place at that table. The Abbot of Reading was devoted more or less to -King Stephen, for Maude, in one of her progresses, had spoiled the abbey -and irritated the brethren by exacting heavy tribute. So they told many -stories of the misdeeds of the party of the Empress, and many more of -the cruelties of Brian Fitz-Count, whose lordly towers were visible in -the distance. - -Osric sat at table next to the lord Abbot, which was meant for a great -distinction. - -"In what school, my son, hast thou studied the warlike art and the -science of chivalry?" asked the Abbot. - -"In the Castle of Wallingford, my lord." - -"I could have wished thee a better school, but doubtless thou art -leaving them in disgust with their evil deeds of which we hear daily; in -fact, we are told that the townspeople cannot sleep for the shrieks of -the captives in the towers." - -"It is in order to atone for ever having shared in their deeds that I -have left them, and the very penance laid on me is to fight for the -Cross of Christ in atonement for my error." - -"And what will Brian think of it?" - -"I must not let him get hold of me." - -"Then tarry here till I return to Reading, and assuming the palmer's -dress, travel in our train out of his country; he will not dare to -assail us." - -It was wise counsel. - -On the morrow Mass was said in the chapel, which occupied the upper -story of the house, over the dormitories, under a high arched roof, -which was the general arrangement in such country houses of the -monks;[28] and at the offertory Osric offered himself to God as a -Crusader, took the vow, and the Abbot bound the red cross on his arm. - -FOOTNOTES: - -[27] This cruelly ingenious contrivance of thumbscrew, lock, and steel -chain may be seen at the house of John Knox, at Edinburgh, amongst other -similar curiosities. - -[28] The author has twice seen the remains of such chapels in the upper -stories of farmhouses--once monastic granges. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -SWEET SISTER DEATH[29] - - -The reader may feel quite sure that such a nature as Evroult's was not -easily conquered by the gentle influences of Christianity; indeed, -humanly speaking, it might never have yielded had not the weapon used -against it been _Love_. - -One day, as he sat rapt in thought on the sunny bank outside the -hermitage, the hermit and Richard talking quietly at a short distance, -he seemed to receive a sudden inspiration,--he walked up to Meinhold. - -"Father, tell me, do you think you can recover of the leprosy you have -caught from us?" - -"I do not expect to do so." - -"And do you not wish we had never come here?" - -"By no means; God sent you." - -"And you give your life perhaps for us?" - -"The Good Shepherd gave His life for me." - -"Father, I have tried not to listen to you, but I can fight against it -no longer. You are right in all you say, and always have been, -only--only----" - -A pause. The hermit waited in silent joy. - -"Only it was so hard to flesh and blood." - -"And can you yield yourself to His Will now?" - -"I am trying--very hard; I do not even yet know whether I quite can." - -"He will help you, dear boy; He knows how hard it is for us weak mortals -to overcome self." - -"I knew if I had kept well I should have grown up violent, wicked, and -cruel, and no doubt have lost my soul. Do you not think so, father?" - -"Very likely, indeed." - -"And yet I have repined and murmured against Him Who brought me here to -save me." - -"But He will forgive all that, now you truly turn to Him and submit to -His Will." - -"I try to give myself to Him to do as He pleases." - -"And you believe He has done all things well?" - -"Yes." - -"Even the leprosy?" - -"Yes, even that." - -"You are right, my dear son; we must all be purified through suffering, -for what son is he whom the Father chasteneth not? and if we are not -partakers thereof, then are we bastards and not sons. All true children -of God have their Purgatory here or hereafter--far better here. He -suffered more for us." - - ---- - -A few days passed away after this conversation, and a rapid change for -the worse took place in poor Evroult's physical condition. The fell -disease, which had already disfigured him beyond recognition, attacked -the brain. His brother and the hermit could not desire his life to be -prolonged in such affliction, and they silently prayed for his release, -grievous although the pang of separation would be to them both--one out -of their little number of three. - -One day he had been delirious since the morning, and at eventide they -stood still watching him. It had been a dark cloudy day, but now at -sunset a broad vivid glory appeared in the west, which was lighted up -with glorious crimson, azure, and gold, beneath the edge of the curtain -of cloud. - -"'At eventide it shall be light,'" quoted Meinhold. - -"See, he revives," said Richard. - -He looked on their faces. - -"Oh brother, oh dear father, I have seen Him; I have heard with the -hearing of the ear, but now mine eye hath seen Him." - -They thought he spake of a vision, but it may have been, probably _was_, -but a revelation to the inward soul. - -"And now, dear father, give me the Viaticum; I am going, and want my -provision for the way." - -He spoke of the Holy Communion, to which this name was given when -administered to the dying. - -Then followed the Last Anointing, and ere it was over they saw the great -change pass upon him. They saw Death, sometimes called the grim King of -Terrors, all despoiled of his sting; they saw the feeble hand strive to -make the Holy Sign, then fall back; while over his face a mysterious -light played as if the door of Paradise had been left ajar when the -redeemed soul passed in. - -"_Beati qui in Domino morinutur_," said Meinhold; "his Purgatory was -here. Do not cry, Richard; the happy day will soon come when we shall -rejoin him." - -They laid him out before the altar in their rude chapel, and prepared -for the last funeral rite. - - ---- - -Meanwhile disfigured forms were stealing through the woods, and finding -a shelter in various dens and caves, or sleeping round fires kindled in -the open or in woodcutters' huts, deserted through fear of them; as yet -they had not found the hermit's cave or entered the Happy Valley. - -On the morrow Meinhold celebrated the Holy Eucharist, and afterwards -performed the burial service with simplest rites; they then committed -the body to the earth, and afterwards wandered together, discoursing -sweetly on the better life, into the forest, where the twilight was - - - "Like the Truce of God - With earthly pain and woe." - - -Never were they happier--never so full of joy and resignation--these -two unfortunates, as the world deemed them; bearing about the visible -sentence of death on themselves, but they had found the secret of a life -Death could not touch. - -And in their walk they came suddenly upon a man, who reposed under the -shadow of a tree; he seemed asleep, but talked and moaned as if in a -feverish dream. - -"Father, he is a leper like us, look." - -"God has sent him, perhaps, in the place of Evroult." - -They woke him. - -"Where am I?" - -"With friends. Canst walk to our home; it is not far?" - -"Angels from Heaven. Yes, I can walk--see." - -But without their assistance he could never have reached the cave. - -They gave him food; he took little, but drank eagerly. - -"How did you come here?" - -He told them of the plague at Byfield, and of the death of the Chaplain. - -"Happy man!" said Meinhold; "he laid down his life for the sheep the -Good Shepherd had committed to his care." And so may we, he thought. - -That night the poor man grew worse; the dark livid hue overspread him. -Our readers know the rest. - - -Voices might have been heard in the cave the next day--sweet sounds -sometimes as if of hymns of praise. - -The birds and beasts came to the hermit's cave, and marvelled that none -came out to feed them--that no crumbs were thrown to them, no food -brought forth. A bold robin even ventured in, but came out as if -affrighted, and flew right away. - -They sang their sweet songs to each other. No human ear heard them; but -the valley was lovely still. - -Who shall go into that cave and wake the sleepers? Who? - -Then came discordant noises, spoiling nature's sweet harmony--the -baying of hounds, the cries of men sometimes loud and discordant, -sometimes of those who struggled, sometimes of those in pain. - -Louder and louder--the hunt is up--the horse and hound invade the glen. - -A troop of affrighted-looking men hasten down the valley. - -Look, they are lepers. - -They have cause to fear; the deep baying of the mastiffs is deepening, -drawing near. - -They espy the cave--they rush towards it up the slope--in they dash. - -Out again. - -Another group of fugitives follow. - -"The cave! the cave! we may defend the mouth." - -"There are three there already," said the first. - -"_Three?_" - -"_Dead of the Plague._" - -And they would have run away had not the hunters and dogs come upon -them, both ways, up and down the glen. - -They are driven in--some two score in all. - -The leaders of the pursuing party pause. - -"I think," says a dark baron, "I see a way out of our difficulty without -touching a leper." - -"Send the dogs in." - -"In vain; they will not go; they scent something amiss." - -"This cave has but one opening." - -"I have heard that a hermit lived here with two young lepers." - -"Call him." - -"Meinhold! Meinhold!" - -No reply. - -"He is dead long ago, I daresay." - -"If he does not come out it is his own fault." - -"There were two young lepers who dwelt with him." - -"What business had he with lepers?" - -"All the world knew it, and he had caught it himself." - -"Then we will delay no longer. God will know His own." And then he gave -the fatal order. - -"Gather brushwood, sticks, reeds, all that will burn, and pile it in the -mouth of the cave." - -They did so. - -"Fire it." - -The dense clouds of smoke arose, and as they hoped in their cruelty, -were sucked inward. - -"There must be a through draught." - -"Can they get out?" - -"No, lord baron." - -"Watch carefully lest there be other outlets. We must stamp this foul -plague out of the land." - -Then they stood and watched. - -The flames crackled and roared; dense volumes of smoke arose, now -arising above the trees, now entering the cave; the birds screamed -overhead; the fierce men looked on with cruel curiosity; but no sound -was heard from within. - -At this moment the galloping of horsemen was heard. "Our brother of -Kenilworth, doubtless." - -But it was not. A rider in dark armour appeared at the head of a hundred -horsemen. - -"What are you doing?" cried a stern voice. - -"Smoking lepers out." - -"Charge them! cut them down! slay all!" - -And the Wallingford men charged the incendiaries as one man. Like a -thunderbolt, slaying, hewing, hacking, chopping, cleaving heads and -limbs from trunks, with all the more deadly facility as their more -numerous antagonists lacked armour, having only come out to slay lepers. - -The Baron of Hanwell Castle was a corpse; so was the knight of Cropredy -Towers; so was the young lord of Southam; others were writhing in mortal -agony, but within a quarter of an hour more, only the dead and dying -disputed the field with the Wallingford men. The rest had fled, finding -the truth of the proverb, "There be many that come out to shear and go -back shorn." - -"Drag the branches away! pull out the faggots! extinguish the fire! -scatter it! fight fire as ye have fought men!" - -That was done too. They dispersed the fuel, they scattered the embers; -and hardly was this done than Brian rushed in the cave, through the hot -ashes. But scarce could he stay in a moment, the smoke blinded--choked -him. - -Out again, almost beside himself with rage, fear for his boys, and -vexation. - -In again. Out again. - -So three or four abortive attempts. - -At last the smoke partially dispersed, and he could enter. - -The outer cave was empty. - -But in the next subterranean chamber lay a black corpse--a full-grown -man. Brian knew him not. He crossed this cave and entered the next one, -and by the altar knew it was their rude chapel. - -Before the altar lay two figures; their hands clasped in the attitude of -prayer; bent to the earth; still--motionless. - -Their faces, too, were of the same dark hue. - -The one wore the dress of a hermit, the other was a boy of some sixteen -years. - -Brian recognised his younger son in the latter, rather by instinct and -by knowledge of the circumstances than otherwise. - -"It is my Richard. But where is Evroult?" - -"Here," said a voice,--"read." - -Upon the wall was a rude inscription, scratched thereon by Meinhold, his -last labour of love-- - - - EVROULT IN PACE. - - -Little as he possessed the power of reading, Brian recognised his son's -name, and understood all. The strong man fell before that altar, and -for the first time in many years recognised the Hand which had stricken -him. - -They dragged him away, as they felt that the atmosphere was dangerous to -them all--as indeed it was. - -"Leave them where they are--better tomb could they not have; only wall -up the entrance." - -And they set to work, and built huge stones into the mouth of the cave-- - - - "Leaving them to rest in hope-- - Till the Resurrection Day." - - -And what had become of the other lepers? - -Driven by the smoke, they had wandered into the farthest recesses of the -cave--once forbidden to Evroult by the hermit. - -Whether they perished in the recesses, or whether they found some other -outlet, and emerged to the upper day, we know not. No further -intelligence of the poor unfortunates reached the living, or has been -handed down to posterity. - - ---- - -And now, do my readers say this is a very melancholy chapter? Do they -pity, above all, the hermit and Richard, struck down by the pestilence -in an act of which Christ would have said, "Inasmuch as ye did it to the -least of these My brethren, ye did it unto Me"? - -The pestilence saved them from the lingering death of leprosy, and even -had they lived to grow old, they had been dust and ashes seven centuries -ago. What does it matter now whether they lived sixteen or sixty years? -The only point is, did they, through God's grace, merit to hear the -blessed words, "Well done, good and faithful servant, enter into the joy -of your Lord"? - -And we think they did. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[29] So called by St. Francis of Assisi. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -FRUSTRATED - - -Had the Abbot of Reading seen fit, or rather had the business on which -he came to Lollingdune allowed him to return home on the day in which he -had decorated Osric with the red cross, it had been well for all -parties, save the writer; for the entangled web of circumstance which -arose will give him scope for another chapter or two, he trusts, of some -interest to the reader. - -As it was, Osric was thrown upon his own resources for the rest of that -day, after the Mass was over; and his thoughts not unnaturally turned to -his old home, where the innocent days of his childhood had been spent, -and to his old nurse Judith, sole relict of that hallowed past. - -Could he not bid her farewell? He had an eye, and he could heed; he had -a foot, and he could speed--let Brian's spies watch ever so narrowly. - -Yes, he _must_ see her. Besides, Osric loved adventure: it was to him -the salt of life. He loved the sensation of danger and of risk. So, -although he knew that there must be a keen hunt on foot from Wallingford -Castle after the fugitives, and that the old cottage might be watched, -he determined to risk it all for the purpose of saying good-bye to his -dear old nurse. - -So, without confiding his purpose to any one, he started on foot. He -passed the old church of Aston Upthorpe, where his grandfather lay -buried, breathing a prayer for the old man, as also a thanksgiving for -the teaching which had at last borne fruit, for he felt that he was -reconciled to God and man, now that he had taken the Holy Vow, and -abandoned his godless life at Wallingford Castle. Then passing between -the outlying fort of Blewburton and the downs, he entered the maze of -forest. - -But as he approached the spot, he took every precaution. He scanned each -avenue of approach from Wallingford; he looked warily into each glade; -anon, he paused and listened, but all was still, save the usual sounds -of the forest, never buried in absolute silence. - -At length he crossed the stream and stood before the door of the hut. He -paused one moment; then he heard the well-known voice crooning a snatch -of an old ballad; he hesitated no longer. - -"Judith!" - -"My darling," said the fond old nurse, "thou hast come again to see me. -Tell me, is it all right? Hast thou found thy father?" - -"I have." - -"Where? Tell me?" - -"At Dorchester Abbey of course." - -Judith sighed. - -"And what did he say to thee?" - -"Bade me go on the Crusades. And so I have taken the vow, and to-morrow -I leave these parts perhaps, for ever." - -"Alas! it is too bad. Why has he not told thee the whole truth? Woe is -me! the light of mine eyes is taken from me. I shall never see thee -again." - -"That is in God's hands." - -"How good thou hast grown, my boy! Thou didst not talk like this when -thou camest home from the castle." - -"Well, perhaps I have learnt better;" and he sighed, for there was a -reproach, as if the old dame had said, "Is Saul also amongst the -prophets?" - -"But, my boy," she continued, "is this all? Did not Wulfnoth--I mean -Father Alphege--tell thee more than this?" - -"What more could he tell me?" - -She rocked herself to and fro. - -"I _must_ tell him; but oh, my vow----" - -"Osric, my child, my bonnie boy, thou dost not even yet know all, and I -am bound _not_ to tell thee. But I was here when thou wast brought home -by Wulfnoth, a baby-boy; and--and I know what I found out--I saw--God -help me: but I swore by the Black Cross of Abingdon I would not tell." - -"Judith, what can you mean?" - -"If you only knew, perhaps you would not go on this crusade." - -"Whither then? I _must_ go." - -"To Wallingford." - -"But _that_ I can never do. I have broken with them and their den of -darkness for ever." - -"Nay, nay; it may be all thine own one day, and thou mayst let light -into it." - -"What can you mean? You distract me." - -"I cannot say. Ah!--a good thought. You may look--I didn't say I -wouldn't show. See, Osric, I will show thee what things were on thy -baby-person when thou wast brought home. Here--look." - -She rummaged in her old chest and brought forth--a ring with a seal, a -few articles of baby attire, a little red shoe, a small frock, and a -lock of maiden's hair. - -"Look at the ring." - -It bore a crest upon a stone of opal. - -_The crest was the crest of Brian Fitz-Count._ - -"Well, what does this mean?" said Osric. "How came this ring on my -baby-self?" - -"Dost thou not see? Blind! blind! blind!" - -"And deaf too--deaf! deaf! deaf!" said a voice. "Dost thou not hear the -tread of horses, the bay of the hound, the clamour of men who seek thee -for no good?" - -It was young Ulric who stood in the doorway. - -"Good-bye, nurse; they are after me; I must go." - -"What hast thou done?" - -"Let all their captives loose. Farewell, dear nurse;" and he embraced -her. - -"Haste, Osric, haste," said the youthful outlaw, "or thou wilt be -taken." - -They dashed from the hut. - -"This way," said Ulric. - -And they crossed the stream in the opposite direction to the advancing -sounds. - -"I lay hid in the forest and heard them say they would seek thee in -thine old home, as they passed my lurking-place." - -"Now, away." - -"But they may hurt Judith. Nay, Brian has not yet returned, _cannot_ yet -have come back, and without his orders they would not dare. He forbade -them once before even to _touch_ the cottage." - -They pressed onward through the woods. - -"Whither do we go?" said Osric, who had allowed his young preserver to -lead. - -"To our haunt in the swamp." - -"You have saved me, Ulric." - -"Then it has been measure for measure, for didst thou not save me when -in direful dumps? Wilt thou not tarry with us, and be a merry man of the -greenwood?" - -"Nay, I am pledged to the Crusades." - -Ulric was about to reply, when he stopped to listen. - -"There is the bay of that hound again: it is one of a breed they have -trained to hunt men." - -"I know him--it is old Pluto; I have often fed him: he would not hurt -me." - -"But he would _discover_ thee, nevertheless, and _I_ should not be safe -from his fangs." - -"Well, we are as swift of foot as they--swifter, I should think. Come, -we must jump this brook." - -Alas! in jumping, Osric's foot slipped from a stone on which he most -unhappily alighted, and he sank on the ground with a momentary thrill of -intense pain, which made him quite faint. - -He had sprained his ankle badly. - -Ulric turned pale. - -Osric got up, made several attempts to move onward, but could only limp -painfully forward. - -"Ulric, I should only destroy both thee and me by perseverance in this -course." - -"Never mind about me." - -"But I do. See this umbrageous oak--how thick its branches; it is hollow -too. I know it well. I will hide in the tree, as I have often done when -a boy in mere sport. You run on." - -"I will; and make the trail so wide that they will come after _me_." - -"But will not this lead them to the haunt?" - -"Water will throw them when I come to the swamps. I can take care." - -"Farewell, then, my Ulric; the Saints have thee in their holy keeping." - -The two embraced as those who might never meet again--but as those who -part in haste--and Ulric plunged into the thicket and disappeared. - -Osric lay hidden in the branches of the hollow tree. There was a -comfortable seat about ten feet from the ground, the feet hidden in the -hollow of the oak, the head and shoulders by the thick foliage. He did -not notice that Ulric had divested himself of an upper garment he wore, -and left it accidentally or otherwise on the ground. All was now still. -The sound of the boy's passage through the thick bushes had ceased. The -scream of the jay, the tap of the woodpecker, the whirr of an occasional -flight of birds alone broke the silence of the forest day. - -Then came a change. The crackling of dry leaves, the low whisper of -hunters, and that sound--that bell-like sound--the bay of the hound, -like a staunch murderer, steady to his purpose, pursuing his prey -relentlessly, unerringly, guided by that marvellous instinct of scent, -which to the pursued seemed even diabolical. - -At last they broke through the bushes and passed beneath the -tree--seven mounted pursuers. - -"See, here is the trail; it is as plain as it can be," cried Malebouche; -for it was he, summoned in the emergency from Shirburne, the Baron not -having yet returned--six men in company. - -But the dog hesitated. They had given him a piece of Osric's raiment to -smell before starting, and he pointed at the tree. - -Luckily the men did not see it; for they saw on the ground the tunic -Ulric had thrown off to run, with the unselfish intention that that -should take place which now happened, confident he could throw off the -hound. - -The men thrust it to the dog's nose, thinking it Osric's,--they knew not -there were _two_--and old Pluto growled, and took the new scent with far -keener avidity than before, for now he was bidden to chase one he might -tear. Before it was a friend, the scent of whose raiment he knew full -well. They were off again. - -All was silence once more around the hollow tree for a brief space, and -Osric was just about to depart and try to limp to Lollingdune, when -steps were heard again in the distance, along the brook, where the path -from the outlaws' cave lay. - -Osric peered from his covert: they were passing about a hundred yards -off. - -Oh, horror! they had got Ulric. - -"How had it chanced?" - -Osric never knew whether the dog had overtaken him, or what accident had -happened; all he saw was that they had the lad, and were taking him, as -he judged, to Wallingford, when they halted and sat down on some fallen -trees, about a hundred yards from his concealment. They had wine, flesh, -and bread, and were going to enjoy a mediaeval picnic; but first they -tied the boy carefully to a tree, so tightly and cruelly that he must -have suffered much unnecessary pain; but little recked they. - -The men ate and drank, the latter copiously. So much the worse for -Ulric--drink sometimes inflames the passions of cruelty and violence. - -"Why should we take him home? our prey is about here somewhere." - -"Why not try a little torture, Sir Squire--a knotted string round the -brain? we will make him tell all he knows, or make the young villain's -eyes start out of his forehead." - -The suggestion pleased Malebouche. - -"Yes," he said, "we may as well settle his business here. I have a -little persuader in my pocket, which I generally carry on these errands; -it often comes useful;" and he produced a small thumbscrew. - -Enough; we will spare the details. They began to carry out their -intention, and soon forced a cry from their victim--although, judging -from his previous constancy, I doubt whether they would have got -more--when they heard a sound--a voice-- - -"STOP! let the lad go; he shall not be tortured for me. I yield myself -in his place." - -"Osric! Osric!" - -And the men almost leapt for joy. - -"Malebouche, I am he you seek--I am your prisoner; but let the boy go, -and take me to Wallingford." - -"Oh, why hast thou betrayed thyself?" said Ulric. - -"Not so fast, my young lord, for lord thou didst think thyself--thou -bastard, brought up as a falcon. Why should I let him go? I have you -both." - -But the boy had been partially untied to facilitate their late -operations, which necessitated that the hands cruelly bound behind the -back should be released; and while every eye was fixed on Osric, he -shook off the loosened cord which attached him to the tree, and was off -like a bird. - -He had almost escaped--another minute and he had been beyond -arrow-shot--when Malebouche, snatching up a bow, sent a long arrow after -him. Alas! it was aimed with Norman skill, and it pierced through the -back of the unfortunate boy, who fell dead on the grass, the blood -gushing from mouth and nose. - -Osric uttered a plaintive cry of horror, and would have hurried to his -assistance, but they detained him rudely. - -"Nay, leave him to rot in the woods--if the wolves and wild cats do not -bury him first." - -And they took their course for Wallingford, placing their prisoner -behind a horseman, to whom they bound him, binding also his legs beneath -the belly of the horse. - -After a little while Malebouche turned to Osric-- - -"What dost thou expect when our lord returns?" - -"Death. It is not the worst evil." - -"But what manner of death?" - -"Such as may chance; but thou knowest he will not torture _me_." - -"He may hang thee." - -"Wait and see. Thou art a murderer thyself, for whom hanging is perhaps -too good. God may have worse things in store for thee. Thou hast -committed murder and sacrilege to-day." - -"Sacrilege?" - -"Yes; thou hast seized a Crusader. Dost not see my red cross?" - -"It is easy to bind a bit of red rag crossways upon one's shoulder. Who -took thy vows?" - -"The Abbot of Reading; he is now at Lollingdune." - -"Ah, ah! Brian Fitz-Count shall settle that little matter; he may not -approve of Crusaders who break open his castle. Take him to Wallingford, -my friends. I shall go back and get that deer we slew just before we -caught the boy; our larder is short." - -So Malebouche rode back into the forest alone. - -Let us follow him. - -It was drawing near nightfall. The light fleecy clouds which floated -above were fast losing the hues of the departing sun, which had tinted -their western edges with crimson; the woods were getting dim and dark; -but Malebouche persisted in his course. He had brought down a fine -young buck with his bow, and had intended to send for it, being at that -moment eager in pursuit of his human prey; but now he had leisure, and -might throw it across his horse, and bring it home in triumph. - -Before reaching the place the road became very ill-defined, and speedily -ceased to be a road at all; but Malebouche could still see the broken -branches and trampled ground along which they had pursued their prey -earlier in the day. - -At last he reached the deer, and tying the horse to a branch of a tree, -proceeded to disembowel it ere he placed it across the steed, as was the -fashion; but as he was doing this, the horse made a violent plunge, and -uttered a scream of terror. Malebouche turned--a pair of vivid eyes were -glaring in the darkness. - -It was a wolf, attracted by the scent of the butchery. - -Malebouche rushed to the aid of his horse, but before he could reach the -poor beast it broke through all restraint in its agony of fear that the -wolf might prefer horse-flesh to venison, and tearing away the branch -and all, galloped for dear life away, away, towards distant Wallingford, -the wolf after it; for when man or horse runs, the savage beast, whether -dog or wolf, seems bound to follow. - -So Malebouche was left alone with his deer in the worst possible humour. - -It was useless now to think of carrying the whole carcass home; so he -cut off the haunch only, and throwing it over his shoulder, started. - -A storm came drifting up and obscured the rising moon--the woods grew -very dark. - -Onward he tramped--wearily, wearily, tramp! tramp! splash! splash! - -He had got into a bog. - -How to get out of it was the question. He had heard there was a quagmire -somewhere about this part of the forest, of bottomless depth, men said. - -So he strove to get back to firm ground, but in the darkness went -wrong; and the farther he went the deeper he sank. - -Up to the knees. - -Now he became seriously alarmed, and abandoned his venison. - -Up to the middle. - -"Help! help!" he cried. - -Was there none to hear? - -Yes. At this moment the clouds parted, and the moon shone forth through -a gap in their canopy--a full moon, bright and clear. - -Before him walked a boy, about fifty yards ahead. - -"Boy! boy! stop! help me!" - -The boy did not turn, but walked on, seemingly on firm ground. - -But Malebouche was intensely relieved. - -"Where he can walk I can follow;" and he exerted all his strength to -overtake the boy, but he sank deeper and deeper. - -The boy seemed to linger, as if he heard the cry, and beckoned to -Malebouche to come to him. - -The squire strove to do so, when all at once he found no footing, and -sank slowly. - -He was in the fatal quagmire of which he had heard. - -Slowly, slowly, up to the middle--up to the neck. - -"Boy, help! help! for Heaven's sake!" - -The boy stood, as it seemed, yet on firm ground. And now he threw aside -the hood that had hitherto concealed his features, and looked Malebouche -in the face. - -_It was the face of the murdered Ulric_ upon which Malebouche gazed! and -the whole figure vanished into empty air as he looked. - -One last despairing scream--then a sound of choking--then the head -disappeared beneath the mud--then a bubble or two of air breaking the -surface of the bog--then all was still. And the mud kept its secret for -ever. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - -FATHER AND SON - - -Meanwhile Osric was brought back as a prisoner to the grim stronghold -where for years his position had been that of the chartered favourite of -the mighty Baron who was the lord thereof. - -When the news had spread that he was at the gates, all the inmates of -the castle--from the grim troopers to the beardless pages--crowded to -see him enter, and perhaps to exult over the fallen favourite; for it is -not credible that the extraordinary partiality Brian had ever shown -Osric should have failed to excite jealousy, although his graceful and -unassuming bearing had done much to mollify the feeling in the hearts of -many. - -And there was nought common or mean in his behaviour; nor, on the other -hand, aught defiant or presumptuous. All was simple and natural. - -"Think you they will put him to the torture?" said a youngster. - -"They dare not till the Baron returns," said his senior. - -"And then?" - -"I doubt it." - -"The rope, then, or the axe?" - -"Perchance the latter." - -"But he is not of gentle blood." - -"Who knows?" - -"If it were you or I?" - -"Hanging would be too good for us." - -In the courtyard the party of captors awaited the orders of the Lady -Maude, now regent in her stern husband's absence. They soon came. - -"Confine him strictly, but treat him well." - -So he was placed in the prison reserved for the captives of gentle -birth, or entitled to special distinction, in the new buildings of -Brian's Close; and Tustain gnashed his teeth, for he longed to have the -torturing of him. - -Unexpected guests arrived at the castle that night--that is, unexpected -by those who were not in the secret of the letters Osric had written and -the Baron had sent out when Osric last played his part of -secretary--Milo, Earl of Hereford, and Sir Alain of St. Maur, some time -page at Wallingford. - -At the banquet the Lady Maude, sorely distressed, confided her griefs to -her guests. - -"We all trusted him. That he should betray us is past bearing." - -"Have you not put him on the rack to learn who bought him?" - -"I could not. It is as if my own son had proved false. We all loved -him." - -"Yet he was not of noble birth, I think." - -"No. Do you not remember the hunt in which you took part when my lord -first found him? Well, the boy, for he was a mere lad of sixteen then, -exercised a wonderful glamour over us all; and, as Alain well knows, he -rose rapidly to be my lord's favourite squire, and would soon have won -his spurs, for he was brave--was Osric." - -"Lady, may I see him? He knows me well; and I trust to learn the -secret," said Alain. - -"Take this ring; it will ope the doors of his cell to thee." - -"And take care _thou_ dost not make use of it to empty Brian's Close," -said Milo ironically. - -Alain laughed, and proceeded on his mission. - - ---- - -"Osric, my fellow-page and brother, what is the meaning of this? why art -thou here?" - -He extended his hand. Osric grasped it. - -"Dost thou not know I did a Christlike deed?" - -"Christlike?" - -"Yes. Did He not open the prison doors of Hell when He descended -thither, and let the captives out of Limbus? I daresay the Dragon did -not like it." - -"Osric, the subject is too serious for jesting." - -"I am not jesting." - -"But what led thee to break thy faith?" - -"My faith to a higher Master than even the Lord of Wallingford, to whom -I owed so much." - -"The Church never taught me that much: if all we do is so wrong, why are -we not excommunicated? Why, we are allowed our chapel, our chaplain--who -troubles himself little about what goes on--our Masses! and we shall -easily buy ourselves out of Purgatory when all is over." - -Too true, Alain; the Church did grievously neglect her duty at -Wallingford and elsewhere, and passively allow such dreadful dens of -tyranny to exist. But Osric had learnt better. - -"I do not believe you will buy yourselves out. The old priest who served -our little church once quoted a Saint--I think they called him -'Augustine'--who said such things could only profit those whose lives -merited that they should profit them. But you did not come here to -discuss religion." - -"No, indeed. Tell me what changed your mind?" - -"Things that I heard at my grandfather's deathbed, which taught me I had -been aiding and abetting in the Devil's work." - -"Devil's work, Osric! The tiger preys upon the deer, the wolf on the -sheep, the fox on the hen, the cat on the bird,--it is so all through -creation; and we do the same. Did the Devil ordain the laws of nature?" - -"God forbid. But men are brethren." - -"Brethren are we! Do you think I call the vile canaille my -brethren?--not I. The base fluid which circulates in their veins is not -like the generous blood which flows in the veins of the noble and -gallant. I have no more sympathy with such folk than the cat with the -mouse. Her nature, which God gave, teaches her to torture, much as we -torment our captives in Brian's Close or elsewhere; but knights, nobles, -gentlemen,--they are my brethren. We slay each other in generous -emulation,--in the glorious excitement of battle,--but we torture them -not. _Noblesse oblige._" - -"I cannot believe in the distinction; and you will find out I am right -some day, and that the blood of your victims, the groans of your -captives, will be visited on your head." - -"Osric, you are one of the conquered race,--is it not so? Sometimes I -doubted it." - -"I am one of your victims; and I would sooner be of the sufferers than -of the tyrants." - -"I can say no more; something has spoilt a noble nature. Do you not -dread Brian's return?" - -"No." - -"Why not? I should in your place. He loved you." - -"I have a secret to tell him which, methinks, will explain all." - -"Wilt not tell it me?" - -"No; I may not yet." - -And Alain took his departure sorrowfully, none the wiser. - - ---- - -The sound of trumpets--the beating of drums. The Baron returns. He -enters the proud castle, which he calls his own, with downcast head. The -scene in the woods near Byfield has sobered him. - -One more grievous blow awaits him,--one to wound him in his tenderest -feelings, perhaps the only soft spot in that hard heart. What a mystery -was hidden in his whole relation to Osric! What could have made the -tiger love the fawn? Was it some deep mysterious working of nature? - -Can the reader guess? Probably, or he has read our tale to little -purpose. - -Osric knows it is coming. He braces himself for the interview. He prays -for support and wisdom. - -The door opens--Brian enters. - -He stands still, and gazes upon Osric for full five minutes ere he -speaks. - -"Osric, what means this?" - -"I have but done my duty. Pardon me, my lord, but the truth must be -spoken now." - -"Thy duty! to break thy faith?" - -"To man but not to God." - -"Osric, what causes this change? I trusted thee, I loved thee, as never -I loved youth before. Thou hast robbed me of my confidence in man." - -"My lord, I will tell thee. At my grandfather's dying bed I learnt a -secret I knew not before." - -"And that secret?" - -"I am the son of Wulfnoth of Compton." - -"So thy grandfather told _me_--_I_ knew it." - -"But I knew not that thou didst slay my kindred--that my mother perished -under thy hands in her burning house--and I alone escaped. Had I known -it, could I have loved and served thee?--NEVER." - -"And yet repenting of that deed, I have striven to atone for it by my -conduct to thee." - -"Couldst thou _hope_ to do so? nay, I acknowledge thy kindness." - -"And thou wouldst open my castle to the foe and slay me in return?" - -"No; we shed no blood--only delivered the helpless. Thou hadst made me -take part in the slaughter, the torture of mine own helpless countrymen, -whose blood God will surely require at our hands, if we repent not. I -have repented, but I could not harm thee. See, I had taken the Cross, -and was on my way to the Holy Wars, when thy minions seized me and -brought me back." - -"Thou hast taken the Cross?" - -"I have." - -"I know not whether thou dost think that I can let thee go: it would -destroy all discipline in my castle. Right and left, all clamour for thy -life. The late-comers from Ardennes swear they will desert if such order -is kept as thy forgiveness would denote. Nay, Osric, thou must die; but -thy death shall be that of a noble, to which by birth thou art not -entitled." - -The choking of the voice, the difficulty of utterance which accompanied -this last speech, showed the deep sorrow with which Brian spoke. Brutus -sacrificing his sons may have shown less emotion. Osric felt it deeply. - -"My lord, do what you think your duty, and behead your former favourite. -I forgive you all you have done, and may think it right yet to do. I die -in peace with you and the world." - -And Osric turned his face to the wall. - -The Baron left the cell, where he found his fortitude deserting him. - -As he appeared on the ramparts he heard all round the muttered words-- - -"Death to the traitor! death!" - -At last he spoke out fiercely. - -"Stop your throats, ye hounds, barking and whining for blood. Justice -shall be done. Here, Alain, seek the doomster Coupe-gorge and the -priest; send the priest to your late friend, and tell the doomster to -get his axe ready; tell Osric thyself he dies at sundown." - -A loud shout of exultation. - -Brian gnashed his teeth. - -"Bring forth my steed." - -The steed was brought. - -He turned to a pitying knight who stood by, the deputy-governor in his -absence. - -"If I return not, delay not the execution after sunset. Let it be on the -castle green." - -A choking sensation--he put his hand to his mouth; when he withdrew it, -it was tinged with blood. - -He dashed the spurs into his steed; the drawbridges fell before him; he -rode at full gallop along the route by the brook described in our second -chapter. Whither was he bound? - -_For Cwichelm's Hlawe._ - -It is a wonder that he was not thrown over and over again; but chance -often protects the reckless while the careful die. He rides through the -forest over loose stones--over protruding roots of trees--still he kept -his seat; he flew like the whirlwind, but he escaped projecting -branches. In an hour he was ascending the slope from Chiltune to the -summit of the hill. - -He reined his panting steed at the foot of the barrow. - -"Hag, come forth!" - -No reply. - -He tied up his steed to a tree and entered her dread abode--the ancient -sepulchre. - -She sat over the open stone coffin with its giant skeleton. - -"Here thou art then, witch!" - -"What does Brian Fitz-Count want of me?" - -"I seek thee as Saul sought the Witch of Endor--in dire trouble. The -boy, old Sexwulf's grandson"--he could not frame his lips to say -Wulfnoth's son--"has proved false to me." - -"Why hast thou not smitten him, and ridden thyself of '_so frail an -encumbrance_'?" - -"I could not." - -"Did I not tell thee so long syne? ah, ha!" - -"Tell me, thou witch, why does the death of a peasant rend my very -heart? Tell me, didst thou not give me a philter, a potion or something, -when I was here? My heart burns--what is it?" - -"Brian Fitz-Count, there is one who can solve the riddle--seek him." - -"Who is he?" - -"Ride at once to Dorchester Abbey--waste no time--ask to see Father -Alphege, he shall tell thee all. When is the boy to die?" - -"At sundown." - -"Then there is no time to be lost. It is now the ninth hour; thou hast -but three hours. Ride, ride, man! if he die before thy return, thy -heart-strings will crack. Ride, man, ride! if ever thou didst -ride--Dorchester first, Father Alphege, then Wallingford Castle." - -Brian rushed from the cavern--he gave full rein to his horse--he drove -his spurs deep into the sides of the poor beast. - -Upon the north-east horizon stood the two twin clumps of Synodune, about -ten miles off; he fixed his eyes upon them; beyond them lay Dorchester; -he descended the hill at a dangerous pace, and made for those landmarks. - -He rode through Harwell--passed the future site of Didcot Station, where -locomotives now hiss and roar--he left the north Moor-town on the -right--he crossed the valley between the twin hills--he swam the river, -for the water was high at the ford--he passed the gates of the old -cathedral city. Every one trembled as they saw him, and hid from his -presence. He dismounted at the abbey gates. - -The porter hesitated to open. - -"I have come to see Father Alphege--open!" - -"This is not Wallingford Castle," said the daring porter, strong in -monastic immunities. - -Brian remembered where he was, and sobered down. - -"Then I would fain see the Abbot at once: life or death hang upon it." - -"Thou mayst enter the hospitium and wait his pleasure." - -He waited nearly half an hour. They kept him on purpose, to show him -that he was not the great man at Dorchester he was at Wallingford. But -they were unwittingly cruel; they knew not his need. - -Meanwhile the Abbot sought Father Alphege, and told him who sought him. - -"Canst thou bear to see him?" - -"I can; it is the will of Heaven." - -"Then he shall see thee in the church; the sacred house of God will -restrain you both. Enter the confessional; he shall seek thee there." - -Then the Abbot sought Brian. - -"Come with me and I will show thee him thou seekest." - -Brian was faint with exhaustion, but the dire need, the terrible -expectation of some awful secret, held him up. He had had no food that -day, but he recked not. - -The Abbot Alured led him into the church. - -The confessional was a stone cell[30] in the thickness of the wall, -entered by the priest from a side chapel. The penitent approached from -the opposite side of the wall from the nave of the church. - -"I am not come to make a confession--yes I am, though, yet not an -ordinary one." - -"Go to that aperture, and through it thou mayst tell your grief, or -whatever thou hast to say, to Father Alphege." - -Brian went to the spot, but he knelt not. - -"Father Alphege, is it thou?" he said. - -"It is I. What does Brian Fitz-Count seek of me? Art thou a penitent?" - -"I know not. A witch sent me to thee." - -"A witch?" - -"Yes--Hertha of Cwichelm's Hlawe." - -"Why?" - -"Listen. I adopted a boy, the son of a man I had slain, partly, I think, -to atone for a crime once committed, wherein I fired his house, and -burnt his kith and kin, save this one boy. I loved him; he won his way -to my heart; he seemed like my own son; and then he _betrayed_ me. And -now he is doomed to death." - -"To die WHEN?" almost shrieked the priest. - -"At sundown." - -"God of Mercy! he must not die. Wouldst thou slay thy son?" - -"He is not my son by blood--I only meant by adoption." - -"Listen, Brian Fitz-Count, to words of solemn truth, although thou wilt -find them hard to believe. He is thine _own_ son--the son of thy -bowels." - -Brian felt as if his head would burst beneath the aching brain. A cold -sweat bedewed him. - -"Prove it," he said. - -"I will. Brian Fitz-Count, I am Wulfnoth of Compton." - -"Thou? I slew thee on the downs in mortal combat." - -"Nay, I yet breathed. The good monks of Dorchester passed by and brought -me _here_. I took the vows, and here I am. Now listen: thou didst slay -my loved and dearest ones, but I can forgive thee now. Canst thou in -turn forgive me?" - -"Forgive thee what?" - -"In my revenge, I robbed thee of thy son and brought him up as my own." - -"But Sexwulf swore that the lad was his grandson." - -"He believed it. I wilfully deceived him; but the old nurse Judith has -the proofs--a ring with thy crest, a lock of maiden's hair." - -"Good God! they were his mother's, and hung about his little neck when -we lost him. Man, how couldst thou?" - -"Thou didst slay all mine, and I made thee feel _like_ pangs. And when -the boy came to me after his deadly breach with thee, although I had -forgiven thee, I could not tell him the truth, lest I should send him to -be a murderer like unto thee; but I did my best for him. I sent him to -the Holy Wars, and----" - -He discovered that he spake but to the empty air. - -Brian was gone. - - ---- - -A crowd was on the green sward of the castle, which filled the interior -between the buildings. In the centre rose a scaffold, whereon was the -instrument of death, the block, the axe. A priest stood by the side of -the victim, and soothed him with holy rite and prayer. The executioner -leant on his axe. - -From the courtyard--the green of the castle--the sun was no longer -visible; but the watchman on the top of the keep saw him from that giddy -height descending like a ball of fire towards Cwichelm's Hlawe. It was -his to give the signal when the sun sank behind the hill. - -Every window was full--every coigne of vantage to see the sight. Alas! -human nature is ever the same. Witness the precincts of the Old Bailey -on hanging mornings in our grandfathers' days! - -The man on the keep saw the sun actually touch the trees on the summit -of the distant hill, and bathe them in fiery light. Another minute and -all would be over. - -In the intense silence, the galloping of a horse was heard--a horse -strong and powerful. Down went the drawbridges. - -The man on the keep saw, and omitted to give the signal, as the sun -disappeared. - -"Hold! hold!" cried a commanding voice. - -It was Brian on his foaming steed. He looked as none had ever seen him -look before; but joy was on his face. - -He was in time, and no more. - -"Take him to my chamber, priest; executioner, put up thine axe, there -will be no work for it to-day. Men of Wallingford, Osric is my son--my -own son--the son of my bowels. I cannot spare you my son. Thank God, I -am in time." - - ---- - -Into that chamber we cannot follow them. The scene is beyond our power -of description. It was Nature which had all the time been speaking in -that stern father's heart, and now she had her way. - - ---- - -On the following morning a troop left Wallingford Castle for Reading -Abbey. The Baron rode at its head, and by his side rode Osric. Through -Moulsford, and Streatley, and Pangbourne--such are their modern -names--they rode; the Thames on their left hand, the downs on their -right. The gorgeous abbey, in the freshness of its early youth, rose -before them. Would we had space to describe its glories! They entered, -and Brian presented Osric to the Abbot. - -"Here, my lord Abbot, is the soldier of the Cross whom thou didst -enroll. He is lame as yet, from an accident, but will soon be ready for -service. Meanwhile he would fain be thy guest." - -The Abbot was astonished. - -"What has chanced, my son? We wondered that thou didst not rejoin us, -and feared thou hadst faltered." - -"He has found a father, who restrained his freedom." - -"A father?" - -"But who now gives his boy to thee. Osric is my son." - -The Abbot was astonished; as well he might be. - -"Go, my Osric, to the hospitium; let me speak to my lord Abbot alone." - -And Brian told his story, not without strong emotion. - -"What wilt thou do now, my Lord of Wallingford?" - -"He shall fulfil his vow, for himself and for me. But, my lord, my sins -have come home to me. What shall I do? Would I could go with him! but my -duties, my plighted faith to my Queen, restrain me. Even to-morrow the -leaders of our cause meet at Wallingford Castle." - -"Into politics we enter not here. But thy sin, if thou hast sinned, God -hath left the means of forgiveness. Repent--confess--thou shall be -loosed from all." - -"I have not been shriven for a long time, but I will be now." - -"Father Osmund is a meet confessor." - -"Nay, the man whom I wronged shall shrive me both as priest and man--so -shall I feel forgiven." - - ---- - -They parted--the father and son--and Brian rode to Dorchester, and -sought Father Alphege again. Into the solemn secrets of that interview -we may not enter. No empty form was there; priest and penitent mingled -their tears, and ere the formal absolution was pronounced by the priest -they forgave each other as men, and then turned to Him of Whom it is -written-- - - - "Yea, like as a father pitieth his own children, - Even so is the Lord merciful unto them that fear Him." - - -And taught by adversity, Brian feared Him now. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[30] The like may be still seen in the great church at Warwick. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - -IN THE HOLY LAND - - "Last scene of all, - Which ends this strange eventful history." - - -Our tale is all but told. Osric reached the Holy Land in safety, more -fortunate than many of his fellows; and there, hearing Brian's -recommendations and acknowledged as his son, joined the order of the -Knights Templars,--that splendid order which was astonishing the world -by its valour and its achievements, whose members were half monks, half -warriors, and wore the surplice over the very coat of mail; having their -chief church in the purified Mosque of Omar, on the site of the Temple -of Jerusalem, and their mission to protect pilgrims and defend the Holy -City. - -He was speedily admitted to knighthood, a distinction his valour fully -justified; and we leave him--gratifying both the old and the new man: -the old man in his love of fighting, the new man in his self-conquest--a -far nobler thing after all. It was a combination sanctioned by the -holiest, best men of that age; such as St. Bernard, whose hymns still -occupy a foremost place in our worship.[31] - -Brian still continued his warlike career, but there was a great change -in his mode of warfare. Wallingford Castle was no longer sullied by -unnecessary cruelties. Coupe-gorge and Tustain had an easy time of it. - -In 1152 Stephen again besieged Wallingford, but the skill and valour of -Brian Fitz-Count forced him to retreat. Again, having reduced the -Castle of Newbury, he returned, and strove to reduce the place by -famine, blocking them in on every side; so that they were forced to send -a message to Henry Plantagenet to come to their aid from Normandy. He -embarked in January 1153 with three thousand foot and a hundred and -forty horse. Most of the great nobles of the west joined his standard in -his passage through England, and he was in time to relieve Wallingford, -besieging the besiegers in their Crowmarsh fort. Stephen came in turn to -relieve them with the barons who adhered to his standard, accompanied by -his son, the heir presumptive, Eustace, animated with strong emulation -against Henry. On his approach, Henry made a sudden sally, and took by -storm the fort at the head of the bridge, which Stephen had erected the -year before, and following the cruel customs of the war, caused all the -defenders to be beheaded on the bridge. Then leaving a sufficient force -to bridle Crowmarsh, Henry marched out with great alacrity to offer -Stephen a pitched battle and decide the war. He had not gone far when he -found Stephen encamped on Cholsey Common, and both sides prepared for -battle with eagerness. - -But the Earl of Arundel, assembling all the nobility and principal -leaders, addressed them. - -"It is now fourteen years since the rage of civil war first infected the -kingdom. During that melancholy period what blood has been shed, what -desolation and misery brought on the people! The laws have lost their -force; the Crown its authority; this great and noble nation has been -delivered over as a prey to the basest of foreigners,--the abominable -scum of Flanders, Brabant, and Brittany,--robbers rather than soldiers, -restrained by no laws, Divine or human,--instruments of all tyranny, -cruelty, and violence. At the same time our cruel neighbours the Welsh -and the Scotch, taking advantage of our distress, have ravaged our -borders. And for what good? When Maude was Queen, she alienated all -hearts by her pride and violence, and made them regret Stephen. And when -Stephen returned to power, he made them regret Maude. He discharged not -his foreign hirelings; but they have lived ever since at free-quarters, -plundering our houses, burning our cities, preying upon the very bowels -of the land, like vultures upon a dying beast. Now, here are two new -armies of Angevins, Gascons, and what not. If Henry conquer, he must -confiscate our property to repay them, as the Conqueror that of the -English, after Senlac. If Stephen conquer, have we any reason to think -he will reign better than before? Therefore let us make a third -party--that of peace. Let Stephen reign (with proper restraint) for -life, and Henry, as combining the royal descent of both nations, succeed -him." - -The proposal was accepted with avidity, with loud shouts, "So be it: God -wills it." - -Astonishment and rage seized Eustace, thus left out in the cold; but his -father, weary of strife, gave way, and Stephen and Henry met within a -little distance from the two camps, in a meadow near Wallingford, the -river flowing between the two armies--which had been purposely so -disposed to prevent collision--and the conditions of peace were -virtually settled on the river-bank. - -Eustace went off in a great rage with the knights of his own household, -and ravaged the country right and left, showing what an escape England -had in his disappointment. His furious passion, coupled with violent -exertion, brought on a brain fever, of which he died. Alas, poor young -prince! But his death saved thousands of innocent lives, and brought -peace to poor old England. The treaty was finally concluded in November -1153, in the fourteenth year of the war. Stephen died the following -year, and Henry quietly succeeded; who sent the free-lances back to the -continent, and demolished one thousand one hundred and fifteen robbers' -castles. - - ---- - - - "Peace and no more from out its brazen portals - The blasts of war's great organ shake the skies, - But beautiful as songs of the immortals, - The holy harmonies of peace arise." - - -And now Brian Fitz-Count could carry out his heart's desire, and follow -Osric to the Crusades. His wife, Maude of Wallingford, had before -retired into Normandy, weary of strife and turmoil, and taken the veil, -with his consent, in a convent connected with the great monastery of -Bec. - -In the chamber overlooking the south terrace, the river, and the glacis, -once the bower of Maude d'Oyley, sat the young King Henry. He was of -ruddy countenance and well favoured, like David of old. His chest was -broad but his stature short, his manners graceful and dignified. - -Before him stood the lord of the castle. - -"And so thou _wilt_ leave us! For the sake of thy long and great -services to our cause, I would fain have retained thee here." - -"My liege, I wish to atone for a life of violence and bloodshed. I must -save my poor soul." - -"Hast thou sinned more than other men?" - -"I know not, only that I repent me of my life of violence: I have been a -man of blood from my youth, and I go to the tomb of Him Who bled for me -that I may lay my sins there." - -"And who shall succeed thee here?" - -"I care not. I have neither kith nor kin save one--a Knight Templar. A -noble soldier, but, by the rules of his stern order, he is pledged to -poverty, chastity, and obedience." - -"I have heard that the Templars abound in those virtues, but they are a -monastic body, and can hold no property independently of their noble -order; and I have no wish to see Wallingford Castle a fief of theirs." - -"I leave it all to thee, my liege, and only ask permission to say -farewell." - -"God be with thee, since go thou must." - -Brian kissed the royal hand and was gone. - -Once he looked back at the keep of Wallingford Castle from the summit of -Nuffield in the Chilterns, on his road to London _en route_ for the sea. -Ah! what a look was that! - -He never saw it again. - -And when he had gone one of the first acts of the king was to seize as -an "escheat" the Castle and honour of Wallingford which Brian Fitz-Count -and Maude his wife, having entered the religious life, had ceased to -hold. - - ---- - -The sun was setting in the valley between Mount Ebal and Mount -Gerizim--the mountains of blessing and cursing. In the entrance to the -gorge, thirty-four miles from Jerusalem and fifteen south of Samaria, -was the village of El Askar, once called Sychar. - -An ancient well, surmounted by an alcove more than a hundred feet -deep--the gift of Jacob to his son Joseph--was to be seen hard by; and -many pilgrims paused and drank where the Son of God once slaked His -human thirst. - -The rounded mass of Ebal lay to the south-east of the valley, of Gerizim -to the north-west; at the foot of the former lay the village. - -As in that olden time, it yet wanted four months of harvest. The -corn-fields were still green; the foliage of leafy trees afforded -delicious shades, as when He sat weary by that well, old even then. - -Oh what memories of blessing and cursing, of Jacob and Joseph, of Joshua -and Gideon, clung to that sacred spot! But, like stars in the presence -of a sun, their lustre paled at the remembrance that His sacred Feet -trod that hallowed soil. - -In a whitewashed caravansary of El Askar lay a dying penitent,--a -pilgrim returning from Jerusalem, then governed by a Christian king. He -seemed prematurely old,--worn out by the toils of the way and the change -of climate and mode of life. He lacked not worldly wealth, which there, -as elsewhere, commanded attention; yet his feet were blistered and sore, -for he had of choice travelled barefoot to the Holy Sepulchre. - -A military party was passing along the vale, bound from Acre to -Jerusalem, clad in flexible mail from head to foot; armed, for the rules -of their order forbade them ever to lay their arms aside. But over their -armour long monastic mantles of scarlet were worn, with a huge white -cross on the left shoulder. They were of the array of the Knights -Templars. Soldiers, yet monks! of such high renown that scarcely a great -family in Europe but was represented in their ranks. Their diet was -simple, their discipline exact; they shunned no hardship, declined no -combat; they had few ties to life, but were prepared to sacrifice all -for the sake of the holy warfare and the Temple of God. Their homes, -their churches, lacked ornament, and were rigidly simple, as became -their vow of poverty. Never yet had they disgraced their holy calling, -or neglected to bear their white banner into the heart of the foe; so -that the Moslem trembled at the war-cry of the Templars--"God and His -Temple." - -Such were the Templars in their early days. - -The leader of this particular party was a knight in the prime of life, -of noble, prepossessing bearing; who managed his horse as if rider and -steed were one, like the Centaur of old. - -They encamped for the night in the open, hard by the Sacred Well. - -Scarcely were the camp-fires lit, when a villager sought an audience of -the commander, which was at once granted. - -"Noble seigneur," he said, "a Christian pilgrim lies dying at the -caravansary hard by, and craves the consolations of religion. Thou art -both monk and soldier?" - -"I am." - -"And wilt visit the dying man?" - -"At once." - -And only draining a goblet of wine and munching a crust, the leader -followed the guide, retaining his arms, according to rule; first telling -his subordinate in command where he was going. - -On the slopes of the eastern hill stood the caravansary, built in the -form of a hollow square; the courtyard devoted to horses and cattle, -chambers opening all round the inner colonnade, with windows looking -outward upon the country. - -There the Templar was taken to a chamber, where, upon a rude pallet, -was stretched the dying man. - -"Thou art ill, my brother; canst thou converse with me?" - -"God has left me that strength." - -"With what tongue dost thou adore the God of our fathers?" - -"English or French. But who art thou?" - -The dying man raised himself up on his elbows. - -"Osric!" - -"My father!" - -It was indeed Brian Fitz-Count who lay dying on that couch. They -embraced fervently. - -"_Nunc dimittis servum tuum Domine in pace_," he said. "Osric, my son, -is yet alive--I see him: God permits me to see him, to gladden my eyes. -Osric, thou shalt close them; and here shalt thou bury thy father." - -"Tell me, my sire, hast thou long arrived? why have we not met before?" - -"I have been to Jerusalem; I have wept on Calvary; I have prayed at the -Holy Sepulchre; and there I have received the assurance that He has cast -my sins behind my back, and blotted them out, nailing them to His Cross. -I then sought thee, and heard thou wert at Acre, at the commandery of -St. John. I sought thee, but passed thee on the road unwittingly. Then I -retraced my steps; but the malaria, which ever hangs about the ruins of -old cities, has prostrated me. My hours are numbered; but what have I -yet to live for? no, _Nunc dimittis, nunc dimittis, Domine; quia oculi -mei viderunt salutare Tuum_." - -And he sank back as in ecstasy, holding still the hand of his son, and -covering it with kisses. - -The setting sun cast a flood of glory on the vale beneath, on Jacob's -Well. - -Once more the sick man rose on his bed, and gazed on the sacred spot -where once the Redeemer sat, and talked with the woman of Samaria. - -"He sat there, weary, weary, seeking His sheep; and I am one. He has -found me. Oh my God, Thou didst thirst for my soul; let that thirst be -satisfied." - -Then to Osric-- - -"Hast thou not a priest in thy troop, my son?" - -"Our chaplain is with us." - -"Let him bring me the Viaticum. I am starting on my last long journey, I -want my provision for the way." - -The priest arrived; the last rites were administered. - -"Like David of old, I have been a man of blood; like him, I have -repented that I have shed innocent blood," said the sick penitent. - -"And like Nathan, I tell thee, my brother," said the priest, "that the -Lord hath put away thy sin." - -"And my faith accepts the blessed assurance." - -"Osric, my son, let me bless thee before I die; thou dost not know, -canst never know on earth, what thou didst for me." - -"God bless thee too, my father. We shall meet before His throne when -time shall be no more." - - ---- - -He fell back as if exhausted, and for a long time lay speechless. At -last he raised himself on his elbow and looked steadfastly up. - -"Hark! they are calling the roll-call above." - -He listened intently for a moment, then, as if he had heard his own -name, he answered-- - - - "ADSUM." - - -And Brian Fitz-Count was no more. - - -THE END - -_Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh_. - -FOOTNOTE: - -[31] As the admirers of Captain Hedley Vicars and other military -Christians sanction the combination even now. - - - - -A SELECTION - -FROM THE - -Recent Publications - -OF - -Messrs. RIVINGTON - -_WATERLOO PLACE, PALL MALL -LONDON_ - - -Woodford's Sermons. - -_Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each. 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A Course of Lectures delivered in substance - at St. Peter's, Eaton Square; also at All Saints', Margaret Street. - -By the Rev. George Body, D.D., - -_Canon of Durham_. - -Contents. - -The Leading into Temptation--The Rationale of Temptation--Why we are -Tempted--Safety in Temptation--With Jesus in Temptation--The End of -Temptation. - - -Knox Little's Manchester Sermons. - -_Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -SERMONS PREACHED FOR THE MOST PART IN MANCHESTER. - -By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A., - -_Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross_. - -Contents. - -The Soul instructed by God--The Claim of God upon the Soul--The -Supernatural Powers of the Soul--The Soul in its Inner Life--The Soul in -the World and at the Judgment--The Law of Preparation--The Principle of -Preparation--The Temper of Preparation--The Energy of Preparation--The -Soul's Need and God's Nature--The Martyr of Jesus--The Secret of -Prophetic Power--The Law of Sacrifice--The Comfort of God--The Symbolism -of the Cross--The Beatitude of Mary, the Mother of the Lord. - - -Knox Little's Christian Life. - -_Third Edition. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d._ - - CHARACTERISTICS AND MOTIVES OF THE CHRISTIAN LIFE. Ten Sermons - preached in Manchester Cathedral in Lent and Advent 1877. - -By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A., - -_Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross_. - -Contents. - -Christian Work--Christian Advance--Christian Watching--Christian -Battle--Christian Suffering--Christian Joy--For the Love of Man--For the -sake of Jesus--For the Glory of God--The Claims of Christ. - - -Knox Little's Witness of the Passion. - -_Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d._ - -THE WITNESS OF THE PASSION OF OUR MOST HOLY REDEEMER. - -By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A., - -_Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross_. - - -Williams's Devotional Commentary. - -_New Edition. Eight Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each. Sold separately._ - -A DEVOTIONAL COMMENTARY ON THE GOSPEL NARRATIVE. - -By the Rev. Isaac Williams, B.D., - -_Formerly Fellow of Trinity College, Oxford_. - -THOUGHTS ON THE STUDY OF THE HOLY GOSPELS. -A HARMONY OF THE FOUR EVANGELISTS. -OUR LORD'S NATIVITY. -OUR LORD'S MINISTRY (SECOND YEAR). -OUR LORD'S MINISTRY (THIRD YEAR). -THE HOLY WEEK. -OUR LORD'S PASSION. -OUR LORD'S RESURRECTION. - - -Voices of Comfort. - -_New Edition. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -VOICES OF COMFORT. - -Edited by the Rev. Thomas Vincent Fosbery, M.A., - -_Sometime Vicar of St. Giles's, Oxford_. - -This Volume of prose and poetry, original and selected, aims at -revealing the fountains of hope and joy which underlie the griefs and -sorrows of life. It is so divided as to afford readings for a month. The -keynote of each day is given to the title prefixed to it, such as: 'The -Power of the Cross of Christ, Day 6. Conflicts of the Soul, Day 17. The -Communion of Saints, Day 20. The Comforter, Day 22. The Light of Hope, -Day 25. The Coming of Christ, Day 28.' Each day begins with passages of -Holy Scripture. These are followed by articles in prose, which are -succeeded by one or more short prayers. After these are poems or -passages of poetry, and then very brief extracts in prose or verse close -the section. The book is meant to meet, not merely cases of bereavement -or physical suffering, but 'to minister specially to the hidden troubles -of the heart, as they are silently weaving their dark threads into the -web of the seemingly brightest life.' - -_Also a Cheap Edition. Small 8vo. 3s. 6d._ - - -The Star of Childhood. - -_Fourth Edition. Royal 16mo. 2s. 6d._ - -THE STAR OF CHILDHOOD: a First Book of Prayers and Instruction for -Children. - -Compiled by a Priest. - -Edited by the Rev. T. T. Carter, M.A. - -_With Illustrations after Fra Angelico._ - - -The Guide to Heaven. - -_New Edition. 18mo. 1s. 6d.; Cloth limp, 1s._ - -THE GUIDE TO HEAVEN: a Book of Prayers for every Want. For the Working -Classes. - -Compiled by a Priest. - -Edited by the Rev. T. T. Carter, M.A. - -_An Edition in Large Type. Crown 8vo. 1s. 6d.; Cloth limp, 1s._ - - -H. L. Sidney Lear's For Days and Years. - -_New Edition. 16mo. 2s. 6d._ - -FOR DAYS AND YEARS. A Book containing a Text, Short Reading and Hymn for -Every Day in the Church's Year. - -Selected by H. L. Sidney Lear. - -_Also a Cheap Edition. 32mo, 1s.; or Cloth gilt, 1s. 6d._ - - -Williams on the Epistles and Gospels. - -_New Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 5s. each._ - -_Sold separately._ - -SERMONS ON THE EPISTLES AND GOSPELS FOR THE SUNDAYS AND HOLY DAYS -THROUGHOUT THE YEAR. - -By the Rev. Isaac Williams, B.D., - -_Author of a 'Devotional Commentary on the Gospel Narrative.'_ - - -Moberly's Parochial Sermons. - -_Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -PAROCHIAL SERMONS, chiefly preached at Brighstone, Isle of Wight. - -By George Moberly, D.C.L., - -_Late Bishop of Salisbury_. - -Contents. - -The Night is far spent, the Day is at hand--Elijah, the Warner of the -Second Advent of the Lord--Christmas--Epiphany--The Rich Man and -Lazarus--The Seventh Day Rest--I will arise and go to my -Father--Confirmation, a Revival--Korah--The Law of Liberty--Buried with -Him in Baptism--The Waiting Church of the Hundred and Twenty--Whitsun -Day. I will not leave you comfortless--Whitsun Day. Walking after the -Spirit--The Barren Fig Tree--Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O -Lord--Feeding the Four Thousand--We are debtors--He that thinketh he -standeth--The Strength of Working Prayer--Elijah's Sacrifice--If thou -hadst known, even thou--Harvest Thanksgiving--Jonadab, the Son of -Rechab--The Transfiguration; Death and Glory--Welcome to Everlasting -Habitations--The Question of the Sadducees. - - -Moberly's Plain Sermons. - -_New Edition. Crown 8vo. 5s._ - -PLAIN SERMONS, PREACHED AT BRIGHSTONE. - -By George Moberly, D.C.L., - -_Late Bishop of Salisbury_. - -Contents. - -Except a man be born again--The Lord with the Doctors--The Draw-Net--I -will lay me down in peace--Ye have not so learned Christ--Trinity -Sunday--My Flesh is Meat indeed--The Corn of Wheat dying and -multiplied--The Seed Corn springing to new life--I am the Way, the -Truth, and the Life--The Ruler of the Sea--Stewards of the Mysteries of -God--Ephphatha--The Widow of Nain--Josiah's discovery of the Law--The -Invisible World: Angels--Prayers, especially Daily Prayers--They all -with one consent began to make excuse--Ascension Day--The Comforter--The -Tokens of the Spirit--Elijah's Warning, Fathers and Children--Thou shalt -see them no more for ever--Baskets full of fragments--Harvest--The -Marriage Supper of the Lamb--The Last Judgment. - - -Luckock's Footprints of the Son of Man. - -_Third Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 12s._ - - FOOTPRINTS OF THE SON OF MAN AS TRACED BY SAINT MARK: being Eighty - Portions for Private Study, Family Reading, and Instructions in - Church. - -By Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D., - -_Canon of Ely; Examining Chaplain to the Bishop of Ely; and Principal of -the Theological College_. - -With an Introduction by the late Bishop of Ely. - - -Goulburn's Thoughts on Personal Religion. - -_New Edition. Small 8vo. 6s. 6d._ - -THOUGHTS ON PERSONAL RELIGION: being a Treatise on the Christian Life in -its two Chief Elements--Devotion and Practice. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -_Also a Cheap Edition, 3s. 6d._ - -_Presentation Edition, elegantly printed on Toned Paper._ - -_Two Vols. Small 8vo. 10s. 6d._ - - -Goulburn's Pursuit of Holiness. - -_Seventh Edition. Small 8vo. 5s._ - - THE PURSUIT OF HOLINESS: a Sequel to 'Thoughts on Personal - Religion,' intended to carry the Reader somewhat farther onward in - the Spiritual Life. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -_Also a Cheap Edition. 3s. 6d._ - - -Goulburn on the Lord's Supper. - -_Sixth Edition. Small 8vo. 6s._ - - A COMMENTARY, Expository and Devotional, on the Order of the - Administration of the Lord's Supper, according to the Use of the - Church of England; to which is added an Appendix on Fasting - Communion, Non-communicating Attendance, Auricular Confession, the - Doctrine of Sacrifice, and the Eucharistic Sacrifice. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -_Also a Cheap Edition, uniform with 'Thoughts on Personal Religion,' and -'The Pursuit of Holiness.' 3s. 6d._ - - -Goulburn's Holy Catholic Church. - -_Second Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s. 6d._ - - THE HOLY CATHOLIC CHURCH: its Divine Ideal, Ministry, and - Institutions. A short Treatise. With a Catechism on each Chapter, - forming a Course of Methodical Instruction on the subject. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -Contents. - -What the Church is, and when and how it was founded--Duty of the Church -towards those who hold to the Apostles' Doctrine, in separation from the -Apostles' fellowship--The Unity of the Church and its Disruption--The -Survey of Zion's towers, bulwarks, and palaces--The Institution of the -Ministry, and its relation to the Church--The Holy Eucharist at its -successive Stages--On the Powers of the Church in Council--The Church -presenting, exhibiting, and defending the Truth--The Church guiding into -and illustrating the Truth--On the Prayer Book as a Commentary on the -Bible--Index. - - -Goulburn's Collects of the Day. - -_Third Edition. Two Vols. Crown 8vo. 8s. each. Sold separately._ - - THE COLLECTS OF THE DAY: an Exposition, Critical and Devotional, of - the Collects appointed at the Communion. With Preliminary Essays on - their Structure, Sources, and General Character, and Appendices - containing Expositions of the Discarded Collects of the First - Prayer Book of 1549, and of the Collects of Morning and Evening - Prayer. - -By Edward Meyrick Goulburn, D.D., D.C.L., - -_Dean of Norwich_. - -Contents. - -VOLUME I. BOOK I. _Introductory._--On the Excellencies of the -Collects--On the Origin of the word Collect--On the Structure of a -Collect, as illustrated by the Collect in the Burial Service--Of the -Sources of the Collects: Of the Sacramentary of Leo, of the Sacramentary -of Gelasius, of Gregory the Great and his Sacramentary, of the Use of -Sarum, and of S. Osmund its Compiler--On the Collects of Archbishop -Cranmer--Of the Restoration Collects, and of John Cosin, Prince-Bishop -of Durham--Of the Collects, as representing the Genius of the English -Church. BOOK II. Part I.--_The Constant Collect._ Part II.--_Collects -varying with the Ecclesiastical Season_--Advent to Whitsunday. - -VOLUME II. BOOK II. _contd._--Trinity Sunday to All Saints' Day. BOOK -III.--_On the Collects after the Offertory._ APPENDIX A.--_Collects in -the First Reformed Prayer Book of 1549 which were suppressed in -1552_--The Collect for the First Communion on Christmas Day--The Collect -for S. Mary Magdalene's Day (July 22). APPENDIX B.--_Exposition of the -Collects of Morning and Evening Prayer_--The Second at Morning Prayer, -for Peace--The Third at Morning Prayer, for Grace--The Second at Evening -Prayer, for Peace--The Third at Evening Prayer, for Aid against all -Perils. - - -Knox Little's Good Friday Addresses. - -_New Edition. Small 8vo. 2s.; or in Paper Cover, 1s._ - - THE THREE HOURS' AGONY OF OUR BLESSED REDEEMER: being Addresses in - the form of Meditations delivered in S. Alban's Church, Manchester, - on Good Friday 1877. - -By the Rev. W. J. Knox Little, M.A., - -_Canon Residentiary of Worcester, and Vicar of Hoar Cross_. - - -Luckock's After Death. - -_Sixth Edition. Crown 8vo. 6s._ - - AFTER DEATH. An Examination of the Testimony of Primitive Times - respecting the State of the Faithful Dead, and their relationship - to the Living. - -By Herbert Mortimer Luckock, D.D., - -_Canon of Ely, etc._ - -Contents. - -PART I.--The Test of Catholicity--The Value of the Testimony of the -Primitive Fathers--The Intermediate State--Change in the Intermediate -State--Prayers for the Dead: Reasons for Our Lord's Silence on the -Subject--The Testimony of Holy Scripture--The Testimony of the -Catacombs--The Testimony of the Early Fathers--The Testimony of the -Primitive Liturgies--Prayers for the Pardon of Sins of Infirmity, and -the Effacement of Sinful Stains--The Inefficacy of Prayer for those who -died in wilful unrepented Sin. - -PART II.--Primitive Testimony to the Intercession of the -Saints--Primitive Testimony to the Invocation of the Saints--The -Trustworthiness of the Patristic Evidence for Invocation tested--The -Primitive Liturgies and the Roman Catacombs--Patristic Opinions on the -Extent of the Knowledge possessed by the Saints--The Testimony of Holy -Scripture upon the same Subject--The Beatific Vision not yet attained by -any of the Saints--Conclusions drawn from the foregoing Testimony. - -SUPPLEMENTARY CHAPTERS.--(_a._) Is a fuller Recognition of the Practice -of Praying for the Dead desirable or not?--(_b._) Is it lawful or -desirable to practise Invocation of Saints in any form or not?--Table of -Fathers, Councils, etc.--Passages of Scripture explained or -quoted--General Index. - - -S. Bonaventure's Life of Christ. - -_Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -THE LIFE OF CHRIST. - -By S. Bonaventure. - -Translated and Edited by the Rev. W. H. Hutchings, - -_Rector of Kirkby Misperton, Yorkshire_. - - 'The whole volume is full of gems and rich veins of thought, and - whether as a companion to the preacher or to those who seek food - for their daily meditations, we can scarcely imagine a more - acceptable book.'--_Literary Churchman._ - - -Newman's Selection from Sermons. - -_Third Edition. Crown 8vo._ - - SELECTION, adapted to the Seasons of the Ecclesiastical Year, from - the 'Parochial and Plain Sermons' of JOHN HENRY NEWMAN, B.D., - sometime Vicar of S. Mary's, Oxford. - -Edited by the Rev. W. J. Copeland, B.D., - -_Late Rector of Farnham, Essex_. - -Contents. - -_Advent_:--Self-denial the Test of Religious Earnestness--Divine -Calls--The Ventures of Faith--Watching. _Christmas Day_:--Religious Joy. -_New Year's Sunday_:--The Lapse of Time. _Epiphany_:--Remembrance of -Past Mercies--Equanimity--The Immortality of the Soul--Christian -Manhood--Sincerity and Hypocrisy--Christian Sympathy. -_Septuagesima_:--Present Blessings. _Sexagesima_:--Endurance, the -Christian's Portion. _Quinquagesima_:--Love, the One Thing Needful. -_Lent_:--The Individuality of the Soul--Life the Season of -Repentance--Bodily Suffering--Tears of Christ at the Grave of -Lazarus--Christ's Privations a Meditation for Christians--The Cross of -Christ the Measure of the World. _Good Friday_:--The Crucifixion. -_Easter Day_:--Keeping Fast and Festival. _Easter-Tide_:--Witnesses of -the Resurrection--A Particular Providence as Revealed in the -Gospel--Christ Manifested in Remembrance--The Invisible World--Waiting -for Christ. _Ascension_:--Warfare the Condition of Victory. _Sunday -after Ascension_:--Rising with Christ. _Whitsunday_:--The Weapons of -Saints. _Trinity Sunday_:--The Mysteriousness of our Present Being. -_Sundays after Trinity_:--Holiness Necessary for Future Blessedness--The -Religious Use of Excited Feelings--The Self-wise Inquirer--Scripture a -Record of Human Sorrow--The Danger of Riches--Obedience without Love as -instanced in the Character of Balaam--Moral Consequences of Single -Sins--The Greatness and Littleness of Human Life--Moral Effects of -Communion with God--The Thought of God the Stay of the Soul--The Power -of the Will--The Gospel Palaces--Religion a Weariness to the Natural -Man--The World our Enemy--The Praise of Men--Religion Pleasant to the -Religious--Mental Prayer--Curiosity a Temptation to Sin--Miracles no -Remedy for Unbelief--Jeremiah, a Lesson for the Disappointed--The -Shepherd of our Souls--Doing Glory to God in Pursuits of the World. - - -Jennings' Ecclesia Anglicana. - -_Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -ECCLESIA ANGLICANA. A History of the Church of Christ in England, from -the Earliest to the Present Times. - -By the Rev. Arthur Charles Jennings, M.A., - -_Jesus College, Cambridge, sometime Tyrwhitt Scholar, Crosse Scholar, -Hebrew University Prizeman, Fry Scholar of S. John's College, Carus and -Scholefield Prizeman, and Rector of King's Stanley._ - - -Bickersteth's The Lord's Table. - -_Second Edition. 16mo. 1s.; or Cloth extra, 2s._ - -THE LORD'S TABLE; or, Meditations on the Holy Communion Office in the -Book of Common Prayer. - -By E. H. Bickersteth, D.D., - -_Bishop of Exeter_. - - 'We must draw our review to an end, without using any more of our - own words, except one parting expression of cordial and sincere - thanks to Mr. Bickersteth for this goodly and profitable "Companion - to the Communion Service."'--_Record._ - - -Manuals of Religious Instruction. - -_New and Revised Editions. Small 8vo. 3s. 6d. each. Sold separately._ - -MANUALS OF RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION. - -Edited by John Pilkington Norris, D.D., - -_Archdeacon of Bristol and Canon Residentiary of Bristol Cathedral_. - - I. THE CATECHISM AND PRAYER BOOK. - II. THE OLD TESTAMENT. -III. THE NEW TESTAMENT. - - -Aids to the Inner Life. - -_Five Vols. 32mo, Cloth limp, 6d. each; or Cloth extra, 1s. each._ - -_Sold separately._ - -_These Five Volumes, Cloth extra, may be had in a Box, price 7s._ - -_Also an Edition with Red Borders, 2s. each._ - -AIDS TO THE INNER LIFE. - -Edited by the Rev. W. H. Hutchings, M.A., - -_Rector of Kirkby Misperton, Yorkshire_. - -These books form a series of works provided for the use of members of -the English Church. The process of adaptation is not left to the reader, -but has been undertaken with the view of bringing every expression, as -far as possible, into harmony with the Book of Common Prayer and -Anglican Divinity. - - OF THE IMITATION OF CHRIST. In Four Books. By THOMAS A KEMPIS. - - THE CHRISTIAN YEAR. Thoughts in Verse for the Sundays and Holy Days - throughout the Year. - - INTRODUCTION TO THE DEVOUT LIFE. From the French of S. FRANCIS DE - SALES, Bishop and Prince of Geneva. - - THE HIDDEN LIFE OF THE SOUL. From the French of JEAN NICOLAS GROU. - - THE SPIRITUAL COMBAT. Together with the Supplement and the Path of - Paradise. By LAURENCE SCUPOLI. - - 'We heartily wish success to this important series, and trust it - may command an extensive sale. We are much struck, not only by the - excellent manner in which the design has been carried out in the - Translations themselves, but also by the way in which Messrs. - Rivington have done their part. The type and size of the volumes - are precisely what will be found most convenient for common use. - The price at which the volumes are produced is marvellously low. It - may be hoped that a large circulation will secure from loss those - who have undertaken this scheme for diffusing far and wide such - valuable means of advancing and deepening, after so high a - standard, the spiritual life.'--_Literary Churchman._ - - -Blunt's Theological Dictionary. - -_Second Edition. Imperial 8vo. 42s.; or in half-morocco, 52s. 6d._ - -DICTIONARY OF DOCTRINAL AND HISTORICAL THEOLOGY. - -By Various Writers. - -Edited by the Rev. John Henry Blunt, D.D., - -_Editor of the 'Annotated Book of Common Prayer,' etc., etc._ - - -Norris's Rudiments of Theology. - -_Second Edition, revised. Crown 8vo. 7s. 6d._ - -RUDIMENTS OF THEOLOGY. A First Book for Students. - -By John Pilkington Norris, D.D., - -_Archdeacon of Bristol, and Canon Residentiary of Bristol Cathedral_. - -Contents. - -PART I.--FUNDAMENTAL DOCTRINES:--The Doctrine of God's Existence--The -Doctrine of the Second Person of the Trinity--The Doctrine of the -Atonement--The Doctrine of the Third Person of the Trinity--The Doctrine -of The Church--The Doctrine of the Sacraments. - -PART II.--THE SOTERIOLOGY OF THE BIBLE:--The Teaching of the Old -Testament--The Teaching of the Four Gospels--The Teaching of S. -Paul--The Teaching of the Epistle to the Hebrews, of S. Peter and S. -John--Soteriology of the Bible (concluded). - -APPENDIX--ILLUSTRATIONS OF PART I. FROM THE EARLY FATHERS:--On the -Evidence of God's Existence--On the Divinity of Christ--On the Doctrine -of the Atonement--On the Procession of the Holy Spirit--On The -Church--On the Doctrine of the Eucharist--Greek and Latin Fathers quoted -or referred to in this volume, in their chronological order--Glossarial -Index. - - -Medd's Bampton Lectures. - -_8vo. 16s._ - - THE ONE MEDIATOR. The Operation of the Son of God in Nature and in - Grace. Eight Lectures delivered before the University of Oxford in - the year 1882, on the Foundation of the late Rev. John Bampton, - M.A., Canon of Salisbury. - -By Peter Goldsmith Medd, M.A., - -_Rector of North Cerney; Hon. Canon of S. Alban's, and Examining -Chaplain to the Bishop; late Rector of Barnes; Formerly Fellow and Tutor -of University College, Oxford_. - - -H. L. Sidney Lear's Christian Biographies. - -_Eight Vols. Crown 8vo. 3s. 6d. each. Sold separately._ - -CHRISTIAN BIOGRAPHIES. - -By H. L. 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