WHAT BROTHER PHILIP HAD TO TELL
The Bishop sat back in his chair, smiling, as at a mental picture which
gave him pleasure, coupled with some amusement.
Ignoring the Knight's sullen silence, he began his story in the
cheerful voice which takes for granted a willing and an interested
listener.
"When the Prioress and myself were discussing your hopes, my son, and I
was urging, in your interests, liberty of flight for Sister Mary
Seraphine, I informed the Reverend Mother that the carrying out of your
plans, carefully laid in order to keep any scandal concerning the White
Ladies from reaching the city, would involve for Seraphine a ride of
many hours to Warwick, almost immediately upon safely reaching the Star
hostel. This seemed as nothing to the lover who, by his own shewing,
had ofttimes seen her 'ride like a bird, all day, on the moors.' But
to us who know the effect of monastic life and how quickly such matters
as these become lost arts through disuse, this romantic ride in the
late afternoon and on into the summer night, loomed large as a possible
obstacle to the successful flight of Seraphine.
"Therefore, in order that our little bird might try her wings, regain
her seat and mastery of a horse, and rid herself of a first painful
stiffness, I persuaded the Reverend Mother to grant the nuns a Play
Day, in honour of my visit, promising to send them my white palfrey,
suitably caparisoned, in safe charge of a good lay-brother, so that all
nuns who pleased, might ride in the river meadow. You would not think
it," said the Bishop, with a smile, "but the White Ladies dearly love
such sport, when it is lawful. They have an agèd ass which they
gleefully mount in turns, on Play Days, in the courtyard and in the
meadow. Therefore riding is not altogether strange to them, although
my palfrey, Iconoklastes, is somewhat of an advance upon their mild
ass, Sheba."
The Knight's sad face had brightened at mention of the beasts.
"Wherefore 'Iconoklastes'?" he asked, with interest. It struck him as
a curious name for a palfrey.
"Because," replied the Bishop, "soon after I had bought him he trampled
to ruin, in a fit of misplaced merriment, some flower beds on which I
had spent much precious time and care, and of which I was inordinately
fond."
"Brute," said the Knight, puzzled, but unwilling to admit it.
"Methinks I should have named him 'Devil,' for the doing of such
diabolic mischief."
"Nay," said the Bishop, gently. "The Devil would have spared my flower
beds. They were a snare unto me."
"And wherefore 'Sheba'?" queried the Knight.
"I named her so, when I gave her to the Prioress," said the Bishop, "in
reply to a question put to me by the Reverend Mother. The ass was
elderly and mild, even then, but a handsome creature, of good breed.
The Prioress asked me whether she still had too much spirit to be
easily managed by the lay-sisters. I answered that her name was
'Sheba.'"
The Bishop paused and rubbed his hands softly over each other, in
gleeful enjoyment of the recollection.
But the Knight again looked blank.
"Did that content the Prioress?" he asked; but chiefly for love of
mentioning her name.
"Perfectly," replied the Bishop. "She smiled and said: 'That is well.'
And the name stuck to the ass, though the Reverend Mother and I alone
understood its meaning."
"About the Play Day?" suggested the Knight, growing restive.
"Ah, yes! About the Play Day. The time chosen was after noon on this
day, in order that the Prioress might first accomplish her talk with
Seraphine, thus clearing the way for our experiment. Although written
last evening, I had not received the Reverend Mother's decisive letter,
when Iconoklastes set forth; and, I confess, I looked forward with keen
interest, to questioning the lay-brother on his return. As I have told
you, I had doubts concerning Seraphine; but I knew the Prioress would
see to it that my meaning and intention reached the member of the
Community actually concerned, were she Seraphine or another; and I
should have light, both on the identity of the lady and on her probable
course of action, when report reached me as to which of the nuns had
taken the riding seriously. Therefore, with no little interest, I
awaited the return of Iconoklastes, in charge of Brother Philip."
The Bishop lifted the faggot-fork and, bending over the hearth, began
to build the logs, quickening the dying flame.
"Well?" cried the Knight, chafing like a charger on the curb. "Well,
my lord? And then?"
The Bishop stood the faggot-fork in its corner.
"I paused, my son, that you might say: 'Wherefore "Philip"?'"
"The names of men interest me not," said the Knight, with impatience.
"I care but to know the reason for the names of beasts."
"Quite right," said the Bishop. "Adam named the beasts; Eve named the
men. Yet, I would like you to ask 'Wherefore "Philip,"' because the
Prioress at once put that question, when she heard me call Brother Mark
by his new name."
"Wherefore 'Philip'?" asked the Knight, with averted eyes.
"Because 'Philip' signifies 'a lover of horses.' I named the good
brother so, when he developed a great affection for all the steeds in
my stables.
"Well, at length Brother Philip returned, leading the palfrey. I had
been riding upon the heights above the town, on my comely black mare,
Shulamite."
Again the Bishop paused, and shot a merry challenge at Hugh d'Argent;
but realising at once that the Knight could brook no more delay, he
hastened on.
"Riding into the courtyard, just as Philip led in the palfrey, I bade
him first to see to Icon's comfort; then come to my chamber and report.
Before long the lay-brother appeared.
"Now Brother Philip is an excellent teller of stories. He does not
need to mar them by additions, because his quickness of observation
takes in every detail, and his excellent memory lets nothing slip. He
has a faculty for recalling past scenes in pictures, and tells a story
as if describing a thing just happening before his mental vision: the
sole draw-back to so vivid a memory being, that if the picture grows
too mirth provoking, Brother Philip is seized with spasms of the
diaphragm, and further description becomes impossible. On this
occasion, I saw at once that the good brother's inner vision teemed
with pictures. I settled myself to listen.
"Aye, it had been a wonderful scene, and more merriment, so the
lay-sisters afterwards told Brother Philip, than ever known before at
any Play Day.
"Icon was led in state from the courtyard, down into the river meadow.
"At first the great delight was to crowd round him, pat him, stroke his
mane, finger his trappings; cry out words of ecstatic praise and
admiration, and attempt to feed him with all manner of unsuitable food.
"Icon, I gather, behaved much as most males behave on finding
themselves the centre of a crowd of admiring women. He pawed the
ground, and swished his tail; arched his neck, and looked from side to
side; munched cakes he did not want, winking a large and roguish eye at
Brother Philip; and finally, ignoring all the rest, fixed a languorous
gaze upon the Prioress, she being the only lady present who stood
apart, regarding the scene, but taking no share in the general
adulation.
"At length the riding began; Brother Philip keeping firm hold on Icon,
while the entire party of nuns undertook to mount the nun who had
elected to ride. Each time Brother Philip attempted a description of
this part of the proceedings he was at once seized with such spasms in
the region of his girdle, that speech became an impossibility; he could
but hold himself helplessly, looking at me from out streaming eyes,
until a fresh peep at his mental picture again bent him double.
"Much as I prefer a story complete, from start to finish, I was
constrained to command Brother Philip to pass on to scenes which would
allow him some possibility of articulate speech.
"The sternness of my tones gave to the good brother the necessary
assistance. In a voice still weak and faltering, but gaining firmness
as it proceeded, he described the riding.
"Most of the nuns rode but a few yards, held in place by so many
willing hands that, from a distance, only the noble head of Icon could
be seen above the moving crowd, surmounted by the terrified face of the
riding nun; who, hastening to exclaim that her own delight must not
cause her to keep others from participation, would promptly fall off
into the waiting arms held out to catch her; at once becoming, when
safely on her feet, the boldest encourager of the next aspirant to a
seat upon the back of Icon.
"Sister Mary Seraphine proved a disappointment. She had been wont to
boast so much of her own palfrey, her riding, and her hunting, that the
other nuns had counted upon seeing her gallop gaily over the field.
"The humble and short-lived attempts were all made first. Then Sister
Mary Seraphine, bidding the others stand aside, was swung by one tall
sister, acting according to her instructions, neatly into the saddle.
"She gathered up the reins, as to the manner born," and bade Brother
Philip loose the bridle. But the palfrey, finding himself no longer
hemmed in by a heated, pressing crowd, gave, for very gladness of
heart, a gay little gambol.
"Whereupon, Sister Mary Seraphine, almost unseated, shrieked to Brother
Philip to hold the bridle, rating him soundly for having let go.
"He then led Icon about the meadow, the nuns following in procession;
Sister Seraphine all the while complaining; first of the saddle, which
gripped her where it should not, leaving an empty space there where
support was needed; then of the palfrey's paces; then of a twist in her
garments--twice the procession stopped to adjust them; then of the ears
of the horse which twitched for no reason, and presently pointed at
nothing--a sure sign of frenzy; and next of his eye, which rolled round
and was vicious.
"At this, Mother Sub-Prioress, long weary of promenading, yet
determined not to be left behind while others followed on, exclaimed
that if the eye of the creature were vicious, then must Sister Mary
Seraphine straightway dismount, and the brute be led back to the seat
where the Prioress sat watching.
"To this Seraphine gladly agreed, and a greatly sobered procession
returned to the top of the field.
"But gaiety was quickly restored by the old lay-sister, Mary Antony,
who, armed with the Reverend Mother's permission, insisted on mounting.
"Willing hands, miscalculating the exceeding lightness of her aged
body, lifted her higher than need be, above the back of the palfrey.
Whereupon Mary Antony, parting her feet, came down straddling!
"Firm as a limpet, she sat thus upon Icon. No efforts of the nuns
could induce her to shift her position. Commanding Brother Philip,
seeing 'the Lord Bishop' was now safely mounted, to lead on and not
keep him standing, old Antony rode off in triumph, blessing the nuns
right and left, as she passed.
"Never were heard such shrieks of merriment! Even Mother Sub-Prioress
sank upon a seat to laugh with less fatigue. Sister Seraphine's
fretful complaints were forgotten.
"Twice round the field went old Antony, with fingers uplifted. Icon
stepped carefully, arching his neck and walking as if he well knew that
he bore on his back, ninety odd years of brave gaiety.
"Well, that made of the Play Day a success. But--the best of all was
yet to come."
The Bishop took up the faggot-fork, and again tended the fire. He
seemed to find it difficult to tell that which must next be told.
The Knight was breathing quickly. He sat immovable; yet the rubies on
his breast glittered continuously, like so many eager, fiery eyes.
The Bishop went on, speaking rapidly, the faggot-fork still in his
hand, his face turned to the fire.
"They had lifted Mary Antony down, and were crowding round Icon,
patting and praising him, when a message came from the Reverend Mother,
bidding Brother Philip to bring the palfrey into the courtyard; the
nuns to remain in the field.
"They watched the beautiful creature pace through the archway and
disappear, and none knew quite what would happen next. Philip heard
them discussing it later.
"Some thought the Bishop had sent for his palfrey. Others, that the
Reverend Mother had feared for the safety of the old lay-sister; or,
lest her brave example should fire the rest to be too venturesome. Yet
all eyes were turned toward the archway, vaguely expectant.
"And then----
"They heard the hoofs of Icon ring on the flagstones of the courtyard.
"They heard the calm voice of the Prioress. Could it be she who was
coming?
"Out from the archway, into the sunshine, alone and fearless; the
Prioress rode upon Icon. On her face was the light of a purposeful
radiance. The palfrey stepped as if proud of the burden he carried.
"She smiled and would have cried out gaily to the groups as she passed.
But, with one accord, the nuns dropped to their knees, with clasped
hands, and faces uplifted, adoring. Always they loved her, revered
her, and thought her beautiful. But this vision of the Prioress, whom
none had ever seen mounted, riding forth into the sunshine on the
snow-white palfrey, filled their hearts with praise and with wonder.
"Brother Philip leaned against the archway, watching. He knew his hand
upon the bridle was no longer needed, from the moment when he saw the
Reverend Mother gather up the reins in her left hand, lay her right
gently on the neck of Icon, and, bending, speak low in his ear.
"She sat a horse--said Philip--as only they can sit, who have ridden
from childhood.
"She walked him round the meadow once, then gently shook the reins, and
he broke into a trot.
"The watching nuns, now on their feet again, shrieked aloud, with
fright and glee.
"At the extreme end of the meadow, wheeling sharply, she let him out
into a canter.
"The nuns at this were petrified into dumbness. One and all held their
breath; while Mother Sub-Prioress--nobody quite knew why--turned upon
Sister Mary Seraphine, and shook her.
"And the next moment the Prioress was among them, walking the palfrey
slowly, settling her veil, which had streamed behind her as she
cantered, bending to speak to one and another, as she passed.
"And the light of new life was in her eyes. Her cheeks glowed, she
seemed a girl again.
"Reining in Iconoklastes, she paused beside Mother Sub-Prioress and
said----"
The Bishop broke off, while he carefully stood the faggot-fork up in
its corner.
"She paused and said: 'None need remain here longer than they will.
But, being up and mounted, and our Lord Bishop in no haste for the
return of his palfrey, it is my intention to ride for an hour.'"
Symon of Worcester turned and looked full at the Knight.
"And the Prioress rode for an hour," he said. "For a full hour, in the
sunshine, on the soft turf of the river meadow, THE PRIORESS TRIED HER
WINGS."