I was in Stamford in the year of the Great Charter of King John. Half
the knights and barons of all England with a goodly following of
men-at-arms and yeomanry had been assembled under the banner of our
stout Marshal, Fitz Walter, and had seized by force and arms full many
royal castles. Now, at the end of a truce which to no avail had been
secured by the Archbishop, we were ready to march towards London to
bring to terms our most crafty and tyrannic lord and king. For years he
had dealt in plots and scheming to overreach the great and strong among
the baronry, and from the weaker seized their lands and goods at will
and oft threw their persons into durance to further his gross ends of
gain or vengeance. Now some hundreds of the barons of the North, with a
dozen or more of us from the West counties and the Welsh Marches, and a
sprinkling of churchmen, who no less than ourselves had suffered from
the King's o'erreaching, were gathered in Bermondsey Hall to agree, if
we might, upon a scroll of the grievances that the King must remedy when
our further assaults should have forced him to sue for peace.
Geoffrey, Lord of Carleton and Teramore, leader of a hundred lances and
half a thousand bowmen, rose from his seat amid a clamor of disputing
voices and saluted the Marshal and the assembled company.
"I propose, my lords and gentlemen," he said in that high, sweet voice
of his which yet is far-heard and commanding, "the name of Sir Cedric De
La Roche, Knight of Grimsby and bold defender of our Western Marches,
for the fifth and final member of this group. He is a brave man and
true; and hath, as we often say in the West, a head as well as an arm.
He is both soldier and scholar, forsooth, and knoweth more of the Latin
tongue than any layman among us. You have named Sir Richard of Mountjoy
to serve you in this matter because, three months agone, he took the
Castle of Tournoy which the King's men were strongly holding with
greater forces than his own and from whence they might have sorely
threatened us. But most of you know not that 'twas Cedric De La Roche
who gained entrance to the castle in disguise, and full well deceived
the garrison, then at midnight overpowered, gagged and bound the
sentinel at a little postern gate, threw it open and admitted the
Mountjoys. Lacking him and his stratagem we might still be hammering at
the walls of Tournoy and our whole campaign be sore delayed."
"For the Latin we have the Abbot of Moberley," said old Lord Esmond from
his seat on one of the benches at the right. "What need have we of
another clerk?"
"The Reverend Abbot," answered Carleton, "will do the cause good
service, I doubt not, in making clear for our Commissioners the
substance of old scrolls and charters which they must study, and mayhap
in inditing in fair Latin hand the articles which we present to the
King. In his hands we may be sure the interests of his order, and
particularly of the Abbey of Moberley, will not suffer. But I say 'tis
well that we of the baronage have a representative of our own number who
can see that this scroll, for which we risk our lives and fortunes,
truly and amply provides for remedy of the wrongs we suffer."
"And _I_ say," shouted Lord Esmond, springing to his feet the instant
Carleton had finished, "that if we are to have a representative of our
order in the inditing of this scroll, as my Lord Carleton says, we
should have a representative indeed. De La Roche is a true man and a
capable soldier, as none will deny; but we have here many lords and
gentlemen of longer service and of purest Norman blood. The Knight of
Grimsby, as all may know, is yeoman and Saxon born. Such a man, be he
never so learned, must ever think as the folk from whom he sprung and
can never rightly guard our rights and privileges."
For an hour we had debated of our wrongs and the measures that should
put an end to them, each speaker being fiercely bent upon the thing that
should lift the oppression that had borne most heavily upon him and
caring little for aught else. But finally 'twas seen that the whole
assembly could accomplish naught but argument and loud bickering, and
that the writing of the scroll must be done by a few chosen men who
should later bring their work before the whole body of leaders for their
assent and undertaking. Two of the oldest of the northern leaders, the
Baron De Longville and the Lord of Esmond, had been first named, then
the learned and courtier-like Abbot of Moberley who was beneath the
insurgent banner because of the King's high-handed procedure in the
matter of Moberley Abbey, where, during the absence on pilgrimage of the
rightful holder, he had declared the abbacy vacant and conferred it with
all its lands upon one of his shameless favorites from Normandy. A
moment before, my own name had been added to the list in recognition of
the services of the Western lords that had well broken the power of the
King in all their countryside.
Following Lord Esmond's bitter speech, came shouts of approval from some
of the other northerners; and it seemed like that my old friend and
comrade would be deprived of the honor which Geoffrey of Carleton had
sought to have conferred upon him. But the venerable De Lacey, long the
Lord High Constable of England, and still a power in the land, though
bent and snowy-haired with age, rose slowly to his feet and addressed
the Marshal and the company:
"My lords: 'tis well for those to talk who know whereof they speak.
Years agone I knighted Cedric De La Roche for knightliest service at the
Battle of the Pass where verily he changed defeat to victory. Since that
time he hath many a time and oft served under me and others, always to
the welfare of the Kingdom and the enhancement of his name. Lord Esmond
says that Cedric De La Roche comes not of noble family. I ask of you, my
lords, who made _our_ families noble but some hard-smiting ancestors we
had that served not better, I warrant you, than this man of whom we
speak. And I have seen his lands of Grimsby and the stout and loyal men
who do willingly follow him, and know full well he can think and plan as
well as strike. Finally, my lords, 'tis not the tale of his father's or
his grandfather's deeds but of his very own that should guide the
choosing of a man for a time of need."
At this, still louder shouts burst forth, especially from the younger
men; and some did loudly call Sir Cedric's name, insisting that he
serve. When partial silence came once more, the Marshal brought all
question to an end by announcing all the names of the group and ending
with that of Cedric De La Roche. Then, it being near the supper hour,
the company broke up amid cheering and noisy overthrow of benches and
the clamor of many voices in eager talk of the day's events.
The meeting next day of the group that should do the writing of the
scroll was scarcely better than that of the whole assembly. Esmond and
De Longville disputed long and loud over exemption from the tax levied
for the French war; and some suggestions that we others made for the
Kingdom's better ordering went all unheeded in the din. The Abbot,
smiling and crafty as always, patiently awaited the time, so sure to
come, when noise and clamor should exhaust itself, and his own
smooth-spoken counsel should prevail. He had with him a copy of the old
charter of the First Henry; and Cedric a draft of some of the laws of
Edward the Confessor which he believed should be included. At last, when
'twas seen that we made no headway, my own voice was for a moment
listened to; and 'twas agreed that our two scholars, the Abbot and
Cedric De La Roche, should work together, making from the ancient laws
and grants, with such additions as were found needful, the articles we
should put before the King.
With all my comradely thought for Cedric, I could but smile as I thought
of the task that now confronted him. I knew well that he had certain
cherished plans with regard to these articles whereby he hoped to gain
for the commons some of the privileges and immunities which he regarded
as the natural rights of freeborn men. Often and often he had declaimed
to me of these things, and with such eloquence and conviction as well
nigh made me a convert to his party--if that could be called a party
which had no leaders and no program and scarce a voice save his own. The
commons knew no other way of protest against the wrongs they suffered
than such violent and fruitless revolts as that of the churls of De
Lancey Manor, with mayhap the killing of a tyrannous noble and the later
hunting down and hanging of the leaders of the mob. Cedric had for years
maintained that their natural rights should be assured to them by
charter and not left to the caprice of some careless or greedy overlord.
But the Abbot of Moberley was allied by blood and by early training to
powerful Norman families; and 'twas likely that he had but little
sympathy with any such ideas. Handsome, learned and eloquent, he was
accustomed to win his way among rough and heavy-handed lords and barons
and the little better schooled officials of the royal courts by the
skill and grace of his address, and yet more, if all rumors were true,
by a readiness to shift his allegiance to any cause in accordance with
circumstance and his own prevailing interest. In truth, he had been bred
for the law as much as for the Church; and his great services to his
order, which had been amply rewarded with power and place, were those
performed in court or council rather than in church or monastery.
At this very time, Lord Geoffrey of Carleton, Cedric and I had reason to
suspect the Abbot of secret communications with the Archbishop, who was
still nominally of the King's party, and who would perhaps have much to
do with the final shaping of our articles if ever we should force the
King to consent to their sealing. 'Twas evident that the rights of
churchmen would not be overlooked in the final treaty; and, although
this too had our approval, we were the more determined that those of
other estates should also be well guarded.
On the morrow, nevertheless, it seemed certain that this co-working of
two such diverse men would be effective, and that we would soon be
prepared to take before the assemblage of leaders the completed scroll.
The Abbot and Cedric De La Roche came late to our meeting, and still
debating hotly on the way; but they brought a list of articles they had
most cunningly devised for the remedy of the ills of which we most
loudly complained. The Abbot read them to us clearly and with most just
accent, like the learned speaker that he is; and I think the two old
northern lords were mightily impressed with the power and worth of words
so skillfully marshalled. When he had finished we might have then and
there adopted the articles and ended our labors. But at the end of his
reading, the Abbot said:
"My lords, I wish to testify that from Sir Cedric De La Roche I have
received most welcome assistance in the drawing of this scroll, both in
the reading of the ancient laws and charters and in the devising of new
provisions toward the wise and just ordering of the Kingdom.
Nevertheless, upon some minor points we have not yet agreed; and upon
these he wishes to address you."
Sir Cedric rose to his feet, and for a moment looked from one to the
other of our company. His fine and open countenance and clear blue eyes
and the martial squareness of his broad shoulders would have won him
high regard in any great assembly. It seemed to me at that moment that
the youth whom I had first known as a forester of Pelham and whom I had
seen rise to knightly dignities, well deserved, was at the summit of his
career when those whose decisions were weighty in the affairs of our
time awaited his words on a matter of such moment. Baron De Longville
was looking at Cedric with no unfriendly eye; but the Lord of Esmond,
who had wished to adopt the articles at once, frowned with impatience at
the end of the Abbot's speech, and now gazed moodily at the floor.
"My lords," began Cedric clearly, "we have as the twentieth of these
articles--'Let no Sheriff or Bailiff of the King take horses or carts of
any free man for doing carriage except with his own consent.' Upon the
next page we have the provision--'Let not the body of a baron, knight or
other noble person be taken, or imprisoned or disseized, or outlawed or
banished, or in any way destroyed, nor let the King go or send upon him
by force, except by the judgment of his peers or by the law of the
land.' These things are just and right, but to my thinking they go not
far enough. Why should we not deserve the good wishes for the triumph of
our cause and the strong right arms not only of the baronage but of all
the freemen of England? Why should not these provisions be altered to
guard their rights also?"
[Illustration: _SIR CEDRIC ROSE TO HIS FEET AND FOR A MOMENT LOOKED FROM
ONE TO THE OTHER OF OUR COMPANY_]
Lord Esmond raised his head and gazed sharply at Cedric's face.
"And how would'st _thou_ amend them," he growled.
"I would say, in the first instance, 'Let no Sheriff or Bailiff of the
King _nor any other person_ take horses or carts of any free man for
doing carriage except with his own consent.' And in the second, would
have the words _a free man_ in place of _baron, knight or other noble
person_, so that it would read: 'Let not the body of a free man be taken
or imprisoned or disseized, or outlawed'--and the rest."
"Mayhap these churls have made thee their spokesman," sneered Esmond.
"Nay," replied Cedric, "I speak for no party, whether high or low, but
for the common good of England."
Lord Esmond turned with sour and vinegary look first to De Longville,
then to the Abbot.
"What did I say in the Assembly? This man hath no conception of the
rights of our order. All his concern is for churls and clowns."
Cedric grew very red, and his hand went to his sword hilt. I sprang up
to address our chief, De Longville, and placed myself between the Knight
of Grimsby and the fiery old lord from the North.
"My lords," I cried, "we gain nothing by arguments that speedily pass
into brawls. Come, let us vote upon these provisions. 'Tis the rightful
way. To-morrow, or the next day at the furthest, we must take our report
to the Assembly; and we should come to agreement."
"'Tis so," replied De Longville, "we waste our time in bickering. Come
Esmond, what say'st thou as to these amendments?"
"I say _nay_," shouted Esmond. "Let the articles even stand as they
were."
"And thou, Most Reverend Abbot?"
"I say _nay_," replied the churchman quietly.
"And thou, Mountjoy?"
"Aye," I answered loudly. "These changes seem to me to take naught from
us and to be well conceived to gain us many friends."
"De La Roche?"
"Aye."
De Longville gazed first at the floor beneath his feet then at the
ceiling overhead and bent his brows in a painful frown. At length he
said:
"It seems I have the casting vote. I see little use in these changes,
save to pamper churls and thralls that too often already raise their
heads with complaints and demands. Some of them verily believe they
might govern the land as well as their betters. 'Tis a dangerous
tendency that must be checked. I say _nay_ also."
Lord Esmond turned toward Cedric with a smile of triumph; and my heart
became as lead to think of his defeat. But the Knight of Grimsby was
instantly on his feet again with a new proposal, which to my amaze he
uttered with a broad and pleasant smile on his face, such as he might
have worn had his amendings been received with utmost acclaim.
"Has the thought come to you, my lords, that in this scroll, thus far,
we have made no provision for the enforcement of our demands? We deal
with a strong and crafty monarch. Even if he place his seal upon our
demands, what surety have we that he will adhere to them after our
levies have been dispersed? He will then be stronger than any one or two
or three of us. How shall we ensure his adherence to the treaty?"
The rest of us gazed at one another in silence. This was a new thought,
it seemed, to our whole assembly; and none could deny the seriousness of
the question. At last De Longville spoke again:
"And hast thou, Grimsby, given thought to this so that thou canst now
produce a remedy?"
"Not on the instant, my lord; but in the main my thought is this: In
this instrument itself must be provision for its enforcement. The King
must agree that a body of ten or a score or more of us shall be named by
ourselves; and that these shall be responsible to see that the charter
be not impaired or overridden. In another night I can form the language
to carry this provision into our articles."
Then the Abbot spoke, suggesting that Sir Cedric be instructed to do
this; and finally, on motion of mine, the articles were back referred to
Cedric and the Abbot with instruction to bring to our meeting, at two o'
the clock on the following day, a fair and perfect copy that we might
adopt and place before the assembled leaders.
'Twas then high noon. As we left the Council Hall, Sir Cedric took me by
the arm and insisted that I come to his inn for the midday meal. There
was in his inviting a special urgency and a look in his eyes from which
I who knew him so well of old instantly gained the knowledge that this
was no ordinary matter of courtesy but something of vastly greater
moment. So I easily suffered myself to be led toward his quarters; and
soon we were seated at a board that was graced with a goodly roast and
all other due refreshment.
When we had something satisfied our hunger, and the old serving man who
waited on us had departed, Cedric bent toward me across the board to
say:
"What sayest thou, Sir Richard, to a ride of a dozen leagues or so and a
little adventure whereby, if Fortune favors, we may do our cause full
loyal service?"
"With all my heart!" I cried, "whither shall we ride, and on what
errand?"
'Twas two months and more since we had seen activity; and this dull life
of the camp and the town was little to my liking. Sir Hubert Gillespie
had lately struck a blow for the King by the surprise and capture of two
strong castles in the Midlands that we had thought safely in our hands,
while we with our brave array at Stamford consumed the days and our
dwindling substance in idleness.
"'Tis one that's something dangerous, forsooth," replied my friend, "and
I doubt much whether our elderly and prudent leaders would approve it."
"Say no more, for Mountjoy is with thee to the hilt. What followers
shall I bring, and with what arms?"
"A dozen lusty swordsmen--men still young and light on the feet and with
heads to understand a stratagem. Dickon and John o' the Wallfield and
Elbert the Smith are the right sort. See that every man wears beneath
his outer garment a coat of linked mail and carries a sword no longer
than his arm. Within the hour I will meet thee at the beech wood thou
knowest to the south of the town; and will bring a like number of the
men of Grimsby. We shall ride hard and far; so look to it, I pray thee,
that thy men be well mounted. We may have cause for speed on the
homeward road."
An hour later, with four and twenty proper men, Cedric and I rode out of
the beech wood, and took the high road toward the south, where, but five
or six leagues away, the castles and most of the towns were still in the
hands of the King's mercenaries. I knew full well that the quest on
which we were embarked was one that meant our cause's advancement, and
would have willingly trusted Cedric for the rest; but now we drew ahead
of our horsemen, and he explained full clearly his design. 'Twas such a
plan as only Cedric would have formed, and its outcome in truth,
exceeding dubious; but we were comrades of old in many a venture that
would have been refused by prudent men; and now he had no labor in
convincing me that this was worth the trial.
After an hour's riding, we came to a thick wood, and turned aside in
this into a little glade where we halted to rest our mounts and to bring
about a most surprising change in our appareling. At a word from Cedric,
each of the Grimsby men proceeded to withdraw from his saddle bags some
garments which, being unfolded, appeared as the long gray cloaks and
hoods of palmers. Each, it seemed, had brought a costume for himself and
for one of the Mountjoy men; and now, in less time than the telling
takes, we had all laid aside among the bracken any headwear or other
dress that might not properly consort with these, and stood forth as a
body of pilgrims in the dress that marked those who had accomplished the
toilsome journey to the Holy Land. Soon we were on the road again, and,
save for now and again the rattle of a sword hilt or a robust, laughing
word, might not have been distinguished from a cavalcade of devout
returning pilgrims such as were not uncommon on our roads.
Without mishap we pursued our way into a region where all the points of
vantage were held by our enemies; and where armed parties, far too
strong for our gainsaying, patrolled the roads or watched them from the
hilltops. In the late afternoon we came within sight of the Castle of
Moberley which was held for the King by Sir John Champney with a hundred
lances and six score cross-bowmen.
On the left, and but half a mile from the castle, lay the Abbey where
William De Bellair, favorite of the King, renegade cleric and forsworn
Crusader, held usurping sway over the monks and lay brethren and the
fields and vineyards that had been the rightful domain of our associate
at Stamford whom we still greeted as the Abbot of Moberley.
At a like distance from Moberley Castle was a fork in the road just
beyond a timbered bridge o'er a stream. There the left-hand track led to
the Abbey and that on the right went straight to the castle gates. At
the full trot we took the former turning, and soon were calling for
admittance at the Abbey doors.
This, to a devoted band of pilgrims, was not long denied. The gates were
thrown ajar, and, leaving two trusty fellows to care for the horses in
the outer courtyard, we passed into the refection hall of the monastery
to pay our respects to this venerable seat of piety and learning. Our
worthy palmers scattered themselves about the great room with its low
timbered ceiling and mighty fireplace, and engaged in talk with the
monks or in reverent examining of the painted series on the walls, the
work of an earnest though not too highly skilled lay brother, and
setting forth the story of Joseph and his brethren.
After a little, Sir Cedric, acting as our leader, sent word to the Abbot
whom we had not yet seen, that here was a group of a score and more of
palmers who now paid their first visit to the far-renowned Abbey of
Moberley and who wished to have speech with the reverend master of the
house ere they departed. This message, with its accompanying
compliments, accomplished its intent; and soon William De Bellair, in
all the robes of his office, entered the hall from an inner door and
seated himself in his great chair on the dais.
If ever the character and history of a man were written on his face,
'twas so with the false Abbot of Moberley. My gorge rose within me at
the sight of his red and bloated countenance that told so plainly of a
life the very opposite of that led by a true monk and churchman. His
mean and shifty little gray eyes were all but covered with folds and
wrinkles of fat, yet quite sufficiently revealed a nature compounded of
fox and pig. De Bellair was one of a group of dissolute Frenchmen who
had won the favor of the King and the hatred of true Englishmen by
supporting our lawless and grasping sovereign in all his schemes for the
seizure of power and wealth. It was against them nearly as much as the
King that our banner of revolt had been raised; and in our Articles of
Stamford we had already named a half dozen of the worst of them who must
be deprived of all offices and banished from the Kingdom. 'Twas no blame
to the Church that such miscreants profaned some of her holy offices. In
defiance of her rights of ancient usage, they had been thrust by their
royal master into the places they disgraced, oftentimes in reward for
services which would not bear recording.
"Reverend Father," said Cedric, bowing low, "we congratulate ourselves
upon our visit to this ancient and honorable abbey; and we have here
some gifts and tokens to bestow upon thee as the head of this worthy
brotherhood."
De Bellair bowed deeply in acknowledgment of this greeting. When he
raised his head again, what was his amaze and horror to find that he
that had addressed him so respectfully had sprung upon the dais, pulled
from his shoulders the palmer's cloak, and now rushed upon him as a
hound upon his quarry. In an instant the long gray robe was flung o'er
the Abbot's head and arms, and despite his struggles and cries a rope
was speedily bound about his middle, pinioning his hands to his sides.
Then he was lifted bodily and hurried toward the courtyard door. Some of
the monks set up a hideous outcry, and one or two sought to intercept
those who carried the bound and struggling Abbot; but where they thought
to deal with unarmed pilgrims, they found themselves confronted with two
and twenty stout fellows each of whom had drawn from beneath his flowing
cloak a short-bladed sword and flourished it in most menacing way. They
fell back before us, overawed, and understanding nothing of what had
passed. Only one of the monastery people did preserve his wits at this
amazing juncture, and this an acolyte youth of sixteen years. Slipping
out of the hall and through the rear of the Abbey, he ran, as we
afterwards learned to our cost, with might and main to take the news of
this mad foray to the castle's governor.
In the outer yard we spent some time in adjusting more firmly our
captive's bonds and in cutting slits through the cloak that bound his
head so as to allow him to breathe but nowise to see and scarcely to
make himself heard with calls for help. Then hoisting him with
difficulty (for he was a gross, fat man) upon a stout charger whereon
one of our own men rode behind him, we turned away from the Abbey and
rode at such speed as we might on the road by which we came.
Our progress was slow at the first, for our prisoner sat most unevenly
in his bonds; and we had no mind to let him fall by the way. And we had
no more than fairly set out on the road when he began to shout and
halloo in such wise that Dickon o' the Wallfield, who rode behind him,
was fain to bring him to understanding of his hopeless plight by a sharp
prick from his poniard's point. Thereafter he was silent; and we made
better way; but withal most precious time had been lost. The night had
already fallen, and with another quarter hour we might have won safely
away. But as we approached the fork of the road we heard a thunder of
hoofs coming from the castle. The riders were nearer the joining than
we, and ere we could gain the bridge we heard their horses upon it and
knew that Sir John Champney's men were drawing up in battle array to
meet us. As we surmised even then, Sir John had divided the force that
he so hastily summoned to punish the supposed outlaws who seized the
Abbot for a ransom, and had sent one party straight to the Abbey and led
the other to this point to intercept us.
In the light from the great moon now rising, we could see that their
numbers were more than twice our own. They were variously armed, as was
to be expected with men who had been so abruptly summoned forth; but
there were lances and steel caps enow and some had coats of mail. We
sorely wished for the good broadswords we left behind at Stamford or the
cross-bows with which a dozen of our party were so skilled. But now was
not time for hesitation or for choosing of courses. Well we knew that in
a trice the other party, riding from the Abbey gates, would be on our
track and we would be taken in front and rear. With a mighty shout we
rode down upon the bridge, trusting all to the darkness and the fury of
our attack.
In a moment we were in the midst of a bloody melee on the bridge. Our
men thrust back their hampering robes, and hewed and slashed with deadly
effect; but those opposing us were no weaklings nor novices in war. Sir
John Champney slew two of our men with downright broadsword strokes and
another was pierced through throat by a lance. I rode in a closer press
of fighting than I had seen since the Battle of the Pass; and once or
twice was near beaten from my horse, though some of those that rained
their blows on me fared worse indeed. Then Cedric came face to face with
Sir John Champney, received a broadsword stroke on his uplifted,
mail-clad arm, and countered with a blow that sent his enemy to earth.
Instantly the cry arose that Sir John was slain. Most of his followers
were French and Flemish mercenaries; and now they melted away before us,
fleeing to the fields on either side of the bridge or leaping to the
shallow waters below. We paused long enough to learn that our men who
had fallen were past all help; then rode forward at a gallop up the
moon-lighted way, with our prisoner still safely bound and in our midst.
By the eleventh hour we entered again the wood where we had transformed
ourselves to palmers; and 'twas the work of but a moment to change us
back to knights and men-at-arms. By midnight we were safely in the town
and had our prisoner properly bestowed. Then Cedric and I parted for the
night,--I to go to my bed, and he, as the morrow showed, to labor by
candle-light all through the hours of darkness.
At nine the next morning I was by appointment at Cedric's lodging, and
found that he had just despatched a messenger to the true Abbot of
Moberley with an urgent request that he come at once since most
important news awaited him from the Abbey itself. This message speedily
accomplished its object, and the Abbot, standing not on ceremony, came
hurrying to the lodgings.
[Illustration: _WITH A MIGHTY SHOUT, WE RODE DOWN UPON THE BRIDGE,
TRUSTING ALL TO THE DARKNESS AND THE FURY OF OUR ATTACK_]
We greeted him most courteously, and, when our guest was duly and
comfortably seated, Cedric stated that riders had come in from Moberley
the night before with the news of a most surprising happening. A band of
a score or more of pilgrims returning from the Holy Land had entered the
Abbey, and, doubtless being wroth at William De Bellair because he had
forsworn himself by abandoning his vow to go an Crusade for the recovery
of the Holy Sepulcher, had seized and bound him, and, overawing the
monastery with weapons, had carried him away by force.
The Abbot listened to this tale of violence with sparkling eyes and with
no hint of censure for those who had so roughly laid hands upon a cleric
dignitary. When it was finished, indeed, he could scarce restrain his
glee. Rising and smiting the table roundly with his hand, he cried:
"Ha! Well served! Well served indeed, for a creature that calls himself
monk and abbot, forsooth, when profit is that way to be gained but who
forgets all monkish obligations when a layman's way of living better
serves him! The palmers are right indeed, and I devoutly hope they may
keep him for aye as far from Moberley Abbey as his conduct hath ever
been from that of a true churchman."
Cedric then resumed, in slow and measured voice:
"It so happens, Reverend Abbot, that I have several friends among these
palmers, and to some extent they rely on me for advice in this matter."
"Ah! Is it so indeed?" questioned the Abbot, eagerly. "Then I trust that
thou, as a true friend of the Church and her rightful servitors, hast
given advice to hold this fellow they have taken--at least till the King
be brought to terms and our brotherhoods be free again to fill their
offices without dictation."
Cedric slowly shook his head.
"Nay, my advice has not yet been given. 'Twill require some further
meditation to be sure that 'tis wisely bestowed. But, Reverend Abbot, if
thou wilt but climb the stair that I shall show thee here and apply
thine eye to a hole in the wall at the right, near the top, I warrant
thee a sight well worth thy pains."
So saying, Cedric rose and throwing open a small door at the rear of the
room, indicated a dim and curving staircase that rose beyond it. The
Abbot, after a searching glance at his host as though he feared some
stratagem, quickly mounted, looking eagerly the while for the eye-hole
in the wall. Both of us remained below; and Cedric, turning to a cabinet
withdrew from it and placed upon the table a huge scroll of many sheets
of freshly-written parchment.
A moment later, the churchman returned with brightly glowing face and
twinkling eyes, and when the stairway door was closed again, exclaimed:
"Sir Cedric De La Roche, thou'rt a true friend to the Church, and thy
services shall be well remembered. 'Tis William De Bellair, beyond all
doubt, who sits in yonder inner room, and 'tis two archers of Grimsby
who guard him. Full well do I know who led that band of palmers; and I
say again thy fortunes shall not suffer for it."
Cedric bowed and smiled.
"Ah well! 'Tis neither here nor there who led the palmers or whether
they acted wholly of their own impulse. The thing of greatest moment now
is this scroll of the articles which I have here in fair copy. Read it,
I pray thee, and see whether thou wilt give thy voice for its adoption.
Thou wilt see that I have introduced the provision for five and twenty
barons who shall enforce the charter and also have written in some other
matters that seem to us of moment."
The Abbot took the scroll and quickly conned the pages whereon he and
Cedric had on the first day of their labors come to full agreement. Then
he came to the twentieth article, and ceasing reading, looked up at
Cedric sharply.
"Thou hast here the wording for which thou did'st argue yesterday."
"Aye, 'tis so," answered Cedric, grimly, "read on."
The Abbot complied, but quickly came to another stop.
"Let not the body of _a free man_ be taken or imprisoned--" he read,
"that again is the very language that was yesterday rejected."
Cedric nodded in assent. "Read on," he said.
For some pages the Abbot went on in silence. Then he uttered an
exclamation of surprise, and paused to read again--this time aloud--an
article that appeared near the end of the scroll.
"All the aforesaid customs and liberties which the King hath conceded,
to be held in the Kingdom as far as concerns his relations to his men,
all in the realm, as well ecclesiastics as laity, _shall on their part
observe toward their men_."
The Abbot leaped to his feet, his face red with wrath.
"What means this, De La Roche? Would thou have all these things for
which we risk our lives and lands extended to every churl and varlet in
the Kingdom?"
"Aye," answered Cedric steadily. "And if thou'lt look abroad through our
camp, thou'lt see some thousands of those same churls and yeomen that do
risk their lives in this cause as much as thou or me."
The Abbot shook his head with impatience.
"'Tis beyond reason, De La Roche. I cannot give my word for it."
Cedric for a moment gazed out of window. Then he said to me:
"This keeping in durance of an ecclesiastic who was appointed to his
place by the King and moreover stands high in his favor, is a difficult
and dangerous business. 'Twill be better if we take him to the town's
edge and turn him loose to find his way back whence he came."
The Abbot gazed at Cedric with parted lips and bated breath while one
might have told two score. Then of a sudden he flung the parchment on
the table and laughed full loud and long.
"Thou hast won, De La Roche. I yield me. Thou hast won and fairly.
Thou'rt a most persuading speaker, I'll be bound. I will go before our
group this day, and make them adopt these articles whether they will or
no. Then to-morrow I will speak for them before the whole assembly. Thou
shalt see what I can do when I am well put to it. Depend upon it, the
articles of that very scroll that lies before us will be the ones our
party will present to the King. And thou, on thy part, shall have due
watch and ward kept of thy prisoner, and see to it that he by no means
gains his liberty until the King hath sealed our charter and pledged
himself to interfere no more in our clerical elections."
The Abbot was as good as his word. That afternoon he delivered such an
address in eulogy of the articles as they appeared in this latest scroll
as I had never heard before on any subject whatsoever. He marshalled all
the arguments Cedric had used together with many more he had not thought
on. His speech was filled with grace and eloquence and was of an
enthusiasm that carried all away. He showed beyond all doubt the power
that would accrue to our party through this inclusion of the rights of
the commonalty in our charter. When he was done De Longville as strongly
favored these provisions in the articles as on the day before he had
opposed them. Lord Esmond grimly held his peace, though oft shaking his
gray head in denial, and soon the scroll had been adopted by our vote of
four to one. The following day our ardent champion made a yet more
eloquent speech before the full assembly; and the articles were approved
by acclamation.
All know the remainder of the tale of Magna Charta,--how the King, three
days later, at Brackley where the articles were read to him, refused
them with an oath, furiously declaring that the barons might as well
have asked of him his kingdom,--how we resumed the war forthwith and the
taking of his castles,--how the gates of London were opened to us and
the King was at length brought to terms at Runnymede. There again 'twas
Cedric De La Roche and the Abbot of Moberley who conferred with the
Archbishop and the other commissioners of the King and satisfied
themselves and us that the completed scroll that received the royal seal
was to the same effect as our articles of Stamford and Brackley.
And now King John is dead, and little lamented, and a wiser sovereign
rules the land. Already men begin to see how great a thing was done at
Runnymede. 'Tis said that the Great Charter will be for centuries to
come the basis of our English law, since it affirms with equal voice the
rights of all our three estates,--the nobility, the clergy and the
commons. It seems to me that later generations will find in its
provisions the authority and the suggestion for many a reform that we
dare not yet attempt, and that freer and happier men may date the
beginning of better things to our bitter struggle with King John. If so
be, may they think not overmuch of us that were noble born and fought
for lordly privilege, but may they never forget that in our day there
were true men of lowly birth who risked their all for the rights of
their fellows. Of these was none more worthy of honor than he whom I am
ever proud to call my friend and comrade,--Cedric, the Forester of
Pelham.
THE END
Transcriber's Notes for Cedric, the Forester:
Differences from modern spelling and modern construction have not
been changed.
Variations in hyphenation and inconsistencies in spelling were
retained.
Punctuation inconsistencies and typographical errors were
silently corrected.