IV.

There was at court a man pre-eminent among the rulers, of virtuous life

and devout in religion. But while working out his own salvation, as

best he might, he kept it secret for fear of the king. Wherefore

certain men, looking enviously on his free converse with the king,

studied how they might slander him; and this was all their thought. On

a day, when the king went forth a-hunting with his bodyguard, as was

his wont, this good man was of the hunting party. While he was walking

alone, by divine providence, as I believe, he found a man in a covert,

cast to the ground, his foot grievously crushed by a wild-beast.

Seeing him passing by, the wounded man importuned him not to go his

way, but to pity his misfortune, and take him to his own home, adding

thereto: "I hope that I shall not be found unprofitable, nor altogether

useless unto thee." Our nobleman said unto him, "For very charity I

will take thee up, and render thee such service as I may. But what is

this profit which thou saidest that I should receive of thee?" The

poor sick man answered, "I am a physician of words. If ever in speech

or converse any wound or damage be found, I will heal it with befitting

medicines, that so the evil spread no further." The devout man gave no

heed to his word, but on account of the commandment, ordered him to be

carried home, and grudged him not that tending which he required. But

the aforesaid envious and malignant persons, bringing forth to light

that ungodliness with which they had long been in travail, slandered

this good man to the king; that not only did he forget his friendship

with the king, and neglect the worship of the gods, and incline to

Christianity, but more, that he was grievously intriguing against the

kingly power, and was turning aside the common people, and stealing all

hearts for himself. "But," said they, "if thou wilt prove that our

charge is not ungrounded, call him to thee privately; and, to try him,

say that thou desirest to leave thy fathers' religion, and the glory of

thy kingship, and to become a Christian, and to put on the monkish

habit which formerly thou didst persecute, having, thou shalt tell him,

found thine old course evil." The authors of this villainous charge

against the Christian knew the tenderness of his heart, how that, if he

heard such speech from the king, he would advise him, who had made this

better choice, not to put off his good determinations, and so they

would be found just accusers.

But the king, not forgetful of his friend's great kindness toward him,

thought these accusations incredible and false; and because he might

not accept them without proof, he resolved to try the fact and the

charge. So he called the man apart and said, to prove him, "Friend,

thou knowest of all my past dealings with them that are called monks

and with all the Christians. But now, I have repented in this matter,

and, lightly esteeming the present world, would fain become partaker of

those hopes whereof I have heard them speak, of some immortal kingdom

in the life to come; for the present is of a surety cut short by death.

And in none other way, methinks, can I succeed herein and not miss the

mark except I become a Christian, and, bidding farewell to the glory of

my kingdom and all the pleasures and joys of life, go seek those

hermits and monks, wheresoever they be, whom I have banished, and join

myself to their number. Now what sayest thou thereto, and what is

thine advice? Say on; I adjure thee in the name of truth; for I know

thee to be true and wise above all men."

The worthy man, hearing this, but never guessing the hidden pitfall,

was pricked in spirit, and, melting into tears, answered in his

simplicity, "O king, live for ever! Good and sound is the

determination that thou hast determined; for though the kingdom of

heaven be difficult to find, yet must a man seek it with all his might,

for it is written, 'He that seeketh shall find it.' The enjoyment of

the present life, though in seeming it give delight and sweetness, is

well thrust from us. At the very moment of its being it ceaseth to be,

and for our joy repayeth us with sorrow sevenfold. Its happiness and

its sorrow are more frail than a shadow, and, like the traces of a ship

passing over the sea, or of a bird flying through the air, quickly

disappear. But the hope of the life to come which the Christians preach

is certain, and as surety sure; howbeit in this world it hath

tribulation, whereas our pleasures now are short-lived, and in the

beyond they only win us correction and everlasting punishment without

release. For the pleasures of such life are temporary, but its pains

eternal; while the Christians' labours are temporary, but their

pleasure and gain immortal. Therefore well befall this good

determination of the king! for right good it is to exchange the

corruptible for the eternal."

The king heard these words and waxed exceeding wroth: nevertheless he

restrained his anger, and for the season let no word fall. But the

other, being shrewd and quick of wit, perceived that the king took his

word ill, and was craftily sounding him. So, on his coming home, he

fell into much grief and distress in his perplexity how to conciliate

the king and to escape the peril hanging over his own head. But as he

lay awake all the night long, there came to his remembrance the man

with the crushed foot; so he had him brought before him, and said, "I

remember thy saying that thou weft an healer of injured speech." "Yea,"

quoth he, "and if thou wilt I will give thee proof of my skill." The

senator answered and told him of his aforetime friendship with the

king, and of the confidence which he had enjoyed, and of the snare laid

for him in his late converse with the king; how he had given a good

answer, but the king had taken his words amiss, and by his change of

countenance betrayed the anger lurking within his heart.

The sick beggar-man considered and said, "Be it known unto thee, most

noble sir, that the king harboureth against thee the suspicion, that

thou wouldest usurp his kingdom, and he spake, as he spake, to sound

thee. Arise therefore, and crop thy hair. Doff these thy fine

garments, and don an hair-shirt, and at daybreak present thyself before

the king. And when he asketh thee, 'What meaneth this apparel?' answer

him, 'It hath to do with thy communing with me yesterday, O king.

Behold, I am ready to follow thee along the road that thou art eager to

travel; for though luxury be desirable and passing sweet, God forbid

that I embrace it after thou art gone! Though the path of virtue,

which thou art about to tread, be difficult and rough, yet in thy

company I shall find it easy and pleasant, for as I have shared with

thee this thy prosperity so now will I share thy distresses, that in

the future, as in the past, I may be thy fellow.'" Our nobleman,

approving of the sick man's saying, did as he said. When the king saw

and heard him, he was delighted, and beyond measure gratified by his

devotion towards him. He saw that the accusations against his senator

were false, and promoted him to more honour and to a greater enjoyment

of his confidence. But against the monks he again raged above measure,

declaring that this was of their teaching, that men should abstain from

the pleasures of life, and rock themselves in visionary hopes.

Another day, when he was gone a-hunting, he espied two monks crossing

the desert. These he ordered to be apprehended and brought to his

chariot. Looking angrily upon them, and breathing fire, as they say,

"Ye vagabonds and deceivers," he cried, "have ye not heard the plain

proclamation of the heralds, that if any of your execrable religion

were found, after three days, in any city or country within my realm,

he should be burned with fire?" The monks answered, "Lo! obedient to

thine order, we be coming out of thy cities and coasts. But as the

journey before us is long, to get us away to our brethren, being in

want of victuals, we were making provision for the way, that we perish

not with hunger." Said the king, "He that dreadeth menace of death

busieth not himself with the purveyante of victuals." "Well spoken, O

king," cried the monks. "They that dread death have concern how to

escape it. And who are these but such as cling to things temporary and

are enamoured of them, who, having no good hopes yonder, find it hard

to be wrenched from this present world, and therefore dread death? But

we, who have long since hated the world and the things of the world,

and are walking along the narrow and strait road, for Christ his sake,

neither dread death, nor desire the present world, but only long for

the world to come. Therefore, forasmuch the death that thou art

bringing upon us proveth but the passage to that everlasting and better

life, it is rather to be desired of us than feared."

Hereupon the king, wishing to entrap the monks, as I ween, shrewdly

said, "How now? Said ye not but this instant, that ye were withdrawing

even as I commanded you? And, if ye fear not death, how came ye to be

fleeing? Lo! this is but another of your idle boasts and lies." The

monks answered, "Tis not because we dread the death wherewith thou dost

threaten us that we flee, but because we pity thee. 'Twas in order that

we might not bring on thee greater condemnation, that we were eager to

escape. Else for ourselves we are never a whit terrified by thy

threats." At this the king waxed wroth and bade burn them with fire.

So by fire were these servants of God made perfect, and received the

Martyr's crown. And the king published a decree that, should any be

found leading a monk's life, he should be put to death without trial.

Thus was there left in that country none of the monastic order, save

those that had hid them in mountains and caverns and holes of the

earth. So much then concerning this matter.