Upon Easter Sunday Meg and Gilbert, her husband, having risen early,
washed themselves well as was fitting, put on such new garments as they
had, and, taking their walking-sticks into their hands, set out while
yet it was dark to go to Mass at the Town Church.
As they went by the way and the Easter sun rose up red as a great fire
upon their left hands, Gilbert began to talk in right cheerful and
Christian fashion, for, albeit he was somedeal rough in his manners
and no hypocrite to talk religion in matters secular, nevertheless he
was a true son of the Church, and the sound of the Easter bells coming
through the calm air of early morning filled him with much delight.
‘Hearken,’ quoth he, ‘never have I heard a sweeter sound of bells;
needs must they ring so from here to Jerusalem, which is the middle of
the world, and all the souls in Heaven and on Earth rejoice this day,
yea, and those in Hell also, for as good Master Parson saith, on this
day the very damned have respite from their pains. Is not the sound of
these salvation bells sweet to thine ears, Meg, my wife?’
‘I did not know thou wert a religious,’ quoth Meg sneeringly.
‘Nay, no religious am I, good Meg, a plain man and a lay, but a
Christian betimes, as all men must be, and especially on a jolly Easter
Day like this. Methinks I could almost make a vow to go to the alehouse
less often hereafter, except I am no hypocrite. Look how the sun rises
through yon wood. He cometh up all glorious like the sweet Christ from
the tomb. Folk say that he danceth upon this day for very joy that our
Lord is risen.’
‘Yea,’ quoth Meg and no more.
‘To-day,’ continued Gilbert, ‘the Pope will stand in his great church
at Rome before the True Cross of Christ and bless all Christian folk
from East to West. Yea, Meg, my wife, it is a blessed thing that we
lived not of old ere this great salvation came in, else we should have
altogether perished with the just heathen, whereas now I may go to the
alehouse or the dice as often as I will, and have more joy hereafter
than Master Virgil or Master Cato or any of those righteous ancients
of whom we hear so much from Master Parson, and who never saw the true
light or heard of Our Lady or Christ.’
‘Yea,’ quoth Meg and no more.
‘Upon Holy Day, look thou,’ went on Gilbert, ‘we Christian folk go up
to the Altar and eat the very Body and Blood of Christ, and thereby
become partakers with Him in everlasting joy; so being deceased and
shoved into our graves, we shall yet rise again like Him and live in
delight and bliss for ever and ever. For these blessed privileges,
being a plain man as I am, and of no great merits in myself, I am bound
to say “Deo Gratias,” and therefore should we this morning creep on our
knees to the Cross and kiss it for a jewel, for it bore Christ’s Body
to our boot. Is it not so, Meg, my wife?’
‘Yea,’ quoth Meg.
By this time they were gotten near the village and could see the Town
Church.
‘Look now,’ quoth Gilbert, ‘how the people throng; they pour through
the doorway like water over a mill-dam. Marry, but I have not seen such
crowds this seven year; there is that good fellow Hob of the Cross and
the Bailey’s wife and John the Miller, who would not give thee more
than tenpence the bushel for thy corn.’
So they came into the Church and were fain to stand during the Blessed
Sacrament of the Mass owing to the thick press of people. The Church
was decked with fair flowers from the fields, a hundred white tapers
burnt like stars before the Altar, a sweet smoke of incense went
curling up among the rafters, and little clergy boys with faces like
unto angels’ sang loudly and clearly the Easter Hymn:
‘Alleluia, alleluia,
O filii et filiae.
Rex coelestis, Rex gloriae,
Morte surrexit hodie.
Alleluia.’
Lit by candleshine, with white lilies round her feet, stood God’s
Mother clasping her little Son, and He stretched His little arms out
and smiled towards them through the odorous mist. Gilbert’s eyes filled
with happy tears, and he said to himself as Master Parson had taught
him to say whenever he entered the Church, ‘I am glad in these things
that are said to me; let us go in the House of the Lord: Our feet shall
stand within thy walls, O thou Jerusalem.’ But Meg said no word nor
joined in the holy responses.
Then they went up in order to receive the Blessed Host, and Gilbert
received it first, kneeling with due reverence. Then Meg knelt in her
turn, but when the Priest put the Host upon her tongue instead of
swallowing it forthwith as Holy Church commands, she put it into her
cheek with her tongue and kept it there. Afterwards, while Gilbert
greeted in kindly fashion the folk at the Church door, she found means
privily to convey it into a kerchief and so into the pocket of her
kirtle. Having exchanged greetings with many folk, they went their
way homewards, Gilbert talking cheerfully as before but Meg moody and
silent.
When they reached Four Lane Ends, quoth Gilbert to his wife, ‘I’ faith,
good Meg, I am clammed. For the love of Christ, Who this morning rose
from the dead for our sakes, hasten thee about dinner.’
‘Thou shalt have it shortly,’ answered Meg, ‘for here is some bacon and
young greenstuff. But do thou meanwhile go to the Halfacre and look to
the swine.’
‘Yea,’ quoth he, ‘but see it be ready when I return.’
Meg watched him going until he turned the corner by the Red Headland.
Then quickly she ran behind the house and, bringing hence a leathern
bucket, hastened with it to the inner room where stood their bed. In
the corner of the room was a strong oak chest, bound with iron strips,
studded with heavy nails and locked with a great lock, wherein was a
great key. She threw herself on her knees before it, turned the key
with both hands, and with an effort flung open the heavy lid. She
laughed loudly and long. Then she rose to her feet and brought out
from her pocket a doubled-up kerchief. She unfolded it and turned the
contents into her hand with scrupulous care. She held her hand up high
to the light of the little window; there rested the Holy Wafer, the
Body and Blood of Christ. A beam of golden light shot suddenly through
the window slit and rested upon it like a sign out of heaven or a ray
from the eye of God. The woman laughed to see her Creator lie there so
white and still in the hollow of the palm of the thing that He had made.
‘Ah, little Jesus,’ she cried stridently, gloating like a Devil of
Hell,--‘Ah, little Jesus, that didst mock me and despise me and cozen
me, when I prayed to Thee at the market; now shall I mock Thee and
despise Thee and cozen Thee much more than ever Thou didst to me. I
asked Thee for twopence more a bushel, for six little stingy pennies,
and Thou wouldst not give me a single one from all Thy infinite store,
nay, Thou tookest away even that which I might have had. Now all the
pennies in the world shall not save Thee from my vengeance. I was hot,
and wayworn, and famished, and thirsty, and Thou hadst no pity on me;
now Thou art alone and helpless, and I will have no pity on Thee.’
She laughed like a wild woman and ran her free hand through her hair,
until the red locks fell over her cruel blue eyes. Then she burst into
a frenzied song of sorcery.
‘Seven smiths sat working,
Working spears of hate;
Seven men came riding,
Riding, riding late.
Seven smiths sat working,
Working spears of woe;
Seven men came riding,
Riding never mo.
So in and about,
When the moon’s put out,
Under rain, under snow
Must my little boy go.’
Kneeling, she carefully put the Holy Wafer in the bottom of the chest,
and taking the bucket in her hand, emptied therefrom a full hideous
toad with warty body and yellow eyes, black and terrible to gaze upon.
O shame, O horror, O deadly sin! The poisonous beast fell with a dull
thud beside the Most Holy Body of Our Lord. The daughter of Hell
slammed to the heavy lid and locked the chest. She ran and hid the key
in the bucket behind the house.