ONCE upon a time Saint Servan kept a school near Glasgow in Scotland,
and many boys, big and little, came there to study. Now of all these
boys there was one who surpassed the rest in everything that makes a
good scholar. Kentigern was one of the smallest boys in the school, and
yet he stood at the head of all his classes. It was Kentigern who found
the answer to the knottiest problem, and who read off the hardest
passages of Latin when no one else was able to make sense of them. It
was Kentigern who learned his lessons first and who recited them best.
It was Kentigern who sang the loudest and was never off the pitch; and
good Saint Servan loved him best of all his pupils.
For all these reasons, and for several more like them, the other boys
were jealous of Kentigern and did everything they could to trouble him
and make him unhappy. They tried to make him fail in his lessons by
talking and laughing when it was his turn to recite. But this was a
useless trick; his answers were always ready, so they had to give this
up. They teased him and called him names, trying to make him lose his
temper so that he would be punished. But he was too good-natured to be
cross with them; so they had to give this up. They tried to coax him
into mischief and lead him do something which would make Saint Servan
angry with him. But Kentigern loved his master too well to do anything
to trouble him. So the boys had finally to give this up also.
There was only one way to bring Kentigern into disgrace. They must plan
a trap, and make him fall into it. For weeks they racked their brains
trying to think what they should do; but at last they thought they had
hit upon a plan.
It was all concerned with a fire. In those days there were no matches
with which to strike a light in a second. Matches had not been invented
in the year 600, nor indeed for many centuries afterwards. Their way of
making a fire was by rubbing two dry sticks together until they grew hot
and a spark fell out upon the wood which was to be kindled. And this
was a very difficult and tiresome thing to do, especially in the winter
when there were few dry sticks to be found. So the fire which was kept
burning night and day in the great fireplace of Saint Servan's school
was tended carefully, and it would be a very serious thing to let this
go out. For how would the breakfast be cooked, and the rooms warmed, and
the candles lighted for the morning service in the chapel if there were
no fire on the great hearth?
So for a week at a time the boys had to take turns in tending the fire;
and the boy whose turn it was had to rise at midnight and put on wood
enough to keep the blaze bright until morning. And oh! how angry Saint
Servan would be with any boy who was so careless as to let the fire go
out in the night.
Now it was Kentigern's week to tend the fire; and for several days he
did tend it faithfully. But the boys were waiting for a chance to play
their mean trick. On the fourth night Kentigern rose as the chapel clock
boomed "twelve!" and went down to the kitchen to give the hungry fire
its midnight lunch of snappy wood. But as soon as he stepped into the
great empty hall he knew something was wrong. Br-r-r! The air was damp
and chilly, and there was no crimson glow on the hearthstones. Kentigern
shivered and ran to the fireplace, peering into the black cavern. There
was nothing but a heap of white ashes and half-burnt wood!
Then Kentigern's heart sank, for he knew he should be blamed for
carelessness, although he suspected that some one had thrown water on
the fire and put it out. And he guessed that it was the other boys who
had done this spiteful thing to bring him into trouble. He did not know
what to do. But a sudden courage came to him. He took up a log of wood
from the corner and laid it on the heap of ashes. Then bending down he
blew gently on the pile. And oh, wonderful to say! It was as if he had
scratched a dozen cards of matches and had touched them to a pile of
paper. Hardly had his breath stirred the ashes and made the moss shiver
on the great log, when the whole fireplace was filled with dancing
flames, and the wood began to snap and crack in the best kind of a
blaze. Kentigern laughed softly to himself as he stole back to bed, and
said never a word to the sleeping boys who had tried to make mischief
for him.
When they woke in the morning they began to chuckle and nudge one
another, expecting every moment to see Saint Servan come frowning in
search of the careless Kentigern. And every boy was ready to declare
that the fire was burning brightly when he went to bed, and that
Kentigern had forgotten to go down and tend it at midnight. But they
were prevented from telling this falsehood. For the bell rang as usual
for breakfast, and down they all went to find a beautiful fire burning
on the hearth, and Kentigern going with his taper to light the chapel
candelabra. They did not know how it had happened till long, long
afterwards when Kentigern had made many other wonders come to pass, and
when he was known far and wide as a Saint even wiser than Servan his
master.
But meanwhile the boys hated him more than ever, when they saw how much
better Saint Servan loved him every day. And once more they planned to
bring him into disgrace. But this time it was an even more cruel thing
which they meant to do. For if they succeeded it would not only cause
Kentigern to be punished and make Saint Servan unhappy, but it would
cost the life of an innocent little creature who never had done any harm
to a single one of them.
Saint Servan was a kind-hearted old man, and he had a Robin Redbreast of
which he was very fond,--a black-eyed fellow who ate his breakfast out
of the Saint's hand. And when the master chanted the Psalms the little
chorister would perch on Servan's shoulder and flap his wings,
twittering as if he were trying to join in the songs of praise.
Now one morning when the coast was clear, the boys killed the little
Redbreast and pulled off his head. And then the biggest boy of them all
took the dead bird in his hand, and followed by all the rest ran
screaming to Saint Servan himself, pretending to feel very sorry.
"Oh Father!" cried the Big Boy, "just see what the wicked Kentigern has
done! Look at your Robin whom Kentigern has killed!"
Then they all began to cry out against Kentigern, and some even
declared that they had seen him do the wicked deed; which was a horrid
story, and their tongues must have smarted well as they spoke it.
Of course Saint Servan was very sad and angry. He tenderly took the
little limp body in his hand and went to seek Kentigern, the other boys
tiptoeing after him to see the fun. And by and by they came upon him in
a window bending over a big book which he was studying. Saint Servan
strode up to him and laid a heavy hand upon his shoulder.
"Look at this, boy," he cried with a sad voice, "look at this cruel
deed, and tell me what shall be done to punish the slayer? Did I not
love the Robin, even as I loved you, ungrateful boy!"
Kentigern turned quite pale with surprise and sorrow, and the tears came
into his eyes.
"Oh, the dear little bird," he said. "Did I not love him too? Who has
killed him, Father?"
"You did, you did; we saw you!" cried all the boys in a chorus.
Kentigern turned and looked at them in astonishment. He did not say a
word, but his cheeks grew red and his eyes flashed. This was more than
even his patience could stand.
"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" queried Saint Servan sternly.
Kentigern turned to him sadly.
"Oh Father!" he said, "how can you believe that I would do such a cruel
thing, to hurt the bird and to make you sad? I did not do it, Father."
"Can you prove it?" asked Saint Servan still more sternly, for he
thought the boy was telling a falsehood to hide his guilt.
"Give me the Robin, Father," said Kentigern, holding out his hand. "I
will prove that it was not this hand which cowardly used so small a
thing as a tiny bird." Then holding the limp body in one hand and the
downy head in the other, he stood before them all, looking up towards
heaven, and made his little prayer.
[Illustration: SAINT KENTIGERN & THE ROBIN]
"O Father in heaven," he said, "prove to my dear Father on earth that I
have not done this cruel thing. If I am innocent, give me power to undo
the wrong and restore life to the little singer who loved to praise
Thee with his sweet voice." Then gently he set the head in place where
it should be and, as his tears fell upon the Robin's neck, it seemed to
grow again to the body. The feathers ruffled and the limp wings
fluttered feebly; the black eyes opened, and out of the bill came a
little chirp. Then the Robin hopped out of Kentigern's hands and across
the floor to Saint Servan's feet, and flew up on his master's shoulder.
There he sat and sang such a carol of joy as made the great hall ring
again. But all the guilty boys put their fingers in their ears and
turned pale, as if they understood what he was saying, and as if it told
the truth about their jealousy and their cruelty and their falsehood.
So Saint Servan learned that Kentigern was innocent, and saw how it had
all happened. The real culprits were severely punished. But Kentigern
became even dearer than before to his master, who helped him in every
way to become the great and famous Saint he afterwards was. And the
Robin was another fond and faithful friend. For the bird seemed never to
forget that Kentigern had restored his life, and always sang his
sweetest song for the boy.
You may be sure that after this the boys gave up trying to get the
better of Kentigern. They had learned that lesson, and thenceforth they
were more kind and respectful to a boy over whom some kind Power seemed
to keep special charge.