E-text prepared by Steven desJardins and the Project Gutenberg Online
Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
PETER THE PRIEST
by
MAURUS JOKAI
Author of "Black Diamonds," "Timar's Two Worlds,"
Translated by S. L. and A. V. Waite
New York
R. F. Fenno & Company
9 and 11 East 16th Street
Copyright, 1897 by R. F. Fenno & Company
_Peter the Priest_
TABLE OF CONTENTS
I IN THE MONASTERY. 5
II THE FOOLS OF THE CASTLE. 22
III THE LORDS OF MADOCSANY. 33
IV YAW DEREVOCSID EHT. 40
V THE LORDS OF MITOSIN. 53
VI THE PICTURE OF SAINT ANTHONY. 67
VII VENUS AND HER SON. 80
VIII THE BISHOP'S WEDDING. 96
IX THE TEMPTATION. 117
X THE FEAST. 125
XI UNDERGROUND. 134
XII THE ICE-BLOCKED FLOOD. 159
XIII IN THE GHOST'S HOUR. 165
XIV THE BEAUTIFUL WOMAN'S REVENGE. 176
XV THE GRAVE OF GOLD. 187
XVI THE FEAST OF DEATH. 196
XVII ALL IS OVER. 201
PETER THE PRIEST.
CHAPTER I.
IN THE MONASTERY.
There were six of them besides the Prior and Abbot. The seventh was away
in the village, collecting the gifts of charity.
"Benedicite," began the Prior. "Here is a message from our most gracious
patroness." With that he laid upon the table a sealed letter in Latin,
which the others passed from hand to hand. All understood it, but it was
evident that not one of them liked the letter, for they turned up their
noses, pursed their lips and knit their eyebrows.
"One of us is bidden to the court of our most munificent patroness to
educate her only son."
"He is a little devil!" exclaimed the Abbot.
"He talks and whistles in church," cried another.
"He reviles the saints and the souls of the departed."
"He torments animals." Each one had something to say; especially the
last.
"He is the accursed child of a mad mother."
"She is the destruction of all men," continued the Abbot. "She sins
against all the commandments."
"She tramples under foot all the sacraments."
"She is a raging fury and a sacrilegious witch."
"She sent her husband to his grave with a deadly drink."
The Prior met all these horrible comments with a stoical calm. "Still
she is our gracious patroness, and her son also will one day be our
patron. We must drink the bitter cup to its dregs. Let us choose."
Still all shook their heads.
"I have the fever in my bones," said one, rubbing his leg.
"I have trouble with my liver," said another, and as proof he put out
his tongue to the opposite brother, who hastened to say:
"It is my vocation to heal the sick."
Now all three looked at the fourth, who felt very confident of having
the best excuse:
"And I am not acquainted with the Scythian speech, neither the Hungarian
nor the Slavic."
The fifth was embarrassed what excuse to give:
"I have taken a vow never to speak to a woman."
Evidently no one cared for the office.
"Then let us send Peter," said the Prior calmly.
At this all five cried out: "He is too young," said one.
"But he is stern of character," replied the Prior.
"He will meet with very great temptations," threw in a second.
"The greater will be his triumph," returned the Prior.
"But he is still only a brother," a third protested.
"We can make him a father," the Prior answered. An answer which brought
them all to their feet, opposing it loudly:
"That cannot be! that cannot be! our rules are against it."
"Then let some one else go," said the Prior coldly.
Silence fell upon the group: they shrugged their shoulders, fell back
into their large richly carved arm-chairs, and murmured:
"Then let Peter be made father, and let father Peter go."
* * * * *
It was the student John's week in the bake-house, and from there he had
heard every word; and now that the worthy fathers had gone away, he
came out of the bake-house and hobbled off to the kitchen. The master of
the kitchen was not there, but Samuel, a fellow-student, hung over the
edge of a large two-handled tub. John was lank, and Samuel was thickset;
both were in rags, out of respect to the golden saying, "In rags is a
student at his best." It was the daily duty of these two students to
carry to the pigs this large tub full of kitchen refuse. As soon as John
saw that the kitchen master was not there, he began rummaging in the tub
among the crusts of bread, apple parings, and scraps of mouldy cheese,
selecting with an experienced eye.
"Leave some for Peter," growled Samuel, without raising his head from
his knees.
John could not answer, for both cheeks were full. Samuel sprang up full
of envy that John should be enjoying his feast with such gusto.
"Stop, you rascal! Leave some for the pigs." Then John looked for the
pole to put through the handles of the tub.
"Take hold of the other end."
"I won't. Peter will be here soon and he carries it out alone."
"Peter will not be here."
"I hear his cart creaking now."
"All the same, he won't carry that tub out again. I heard what they
said when I was in the bake-house."
"What did they say?" And the two sat down together on the edge of the
tub for a gossip.
"The mistress of the castle sends for an instructor for her son, and
they say that he a small devil."
"That's true, he's equal to twelve."
"He whistles in church."
"He puts sulphur in the incense when he assists at mass!"
"He curses and reviles the saints and the souls of the departed."
"He torments animals."
"You're right he does! He put a lighted sponge in my donkey's ear, and
the poor beast smashed my cart."
"They said that he is as wild as his mother; and the Abbot said of her
that she was the ruin of every man. Is that so?"
"Yes, she is a witch, who bridles men and rides them off to the devils'
dance."
"They did say that she was a witch, and and that she broke all the ten
commandments, and put the sacraments under her feet; and listen,--they
said that she mixed poison in her husband's drink, and he died of it!"
"That's like her! Once they sent me to her with a letter, and she
ordered a cup of mead that had something in it that made me feel all
night long as if I must crawl up the wall."
"But the Prior said that she was our gracious patroness, and that her
son would one day be our patron, and that we must drink the bitter cup."
"I can see how they all trembled!"
"One said that he had fever in his bones, another had trouble with his
liver, a third said he was busy healing the sick, a fourth that he did
not know either Hungarian or Slavic, and the fifth was bound by a holy
vow not to speak to a woman."
"And so in the end they send Peter."
"The Devil's in you! You've guessed it!"
"It may turn out well for him."
"One thought he was still too young, and the Prior said, but he is of
strong character; another that he would be exposed to great temptations;
several objected that Peter was still a brother. Then the Prior said,
we'll make him a father. Then all objected, and the Prior said, Then one
of you must go. Then they all gave in and said, well, make Peter a
father, and let Father Peter be the one to go."
And then both the students began to laugh. "Peter will be in the right
place there!" In the mean time, the creaking of the cartwheels stopped
at the rear door; then came a knock; through this rear gate was an
entrance into the court, but the duty of door-tender was limited to the
main entrance.
"Do you hear? Peter's knocking."
"You hear him, yourself."
"Go open the gate."
"You can do it as well as I."
"I can't find my feet, I don't know which of the four they are." At that
John struck the four bare legs with his birch broom, and his fellow
scholar at once discovered his own; then they seized each other by the
hair; the question was which should throw the other out of the kitchen;
the vanquished one was to open the gate. During this struggle, they
upset the tub and the contents streamed over the floor. Then, indeed,
they separated, thoroughly pommeled and frightened.
"Get out, you overturned it."
"You pushed me into it."
"When the kitchen-master sees us, he'll beat you well." Neither one
would set things to rights; meanwhile their brother, tired of knocking
at the rear gate, had gone around to the main gate, been let in there,
and now opened the rear gate for himself to bring in what he had
collected in the villages.
It was a lumbering cart; its wobbling wheels described the letter S in
their course, and as they had been long ungreased, creaked dismally. A
one-eared donkey drew the cart filled with all kinds of provisions,
which the begging monk had collected in the villages; this was called
"temporizing." The steward was already waiting in the court, slate in
hand to note down the receipts. He did not fail at each item to make
severe criticisms and to look sharply at the collector. Everything he
found poor; picking out the bad eggs, he said, "You can have those
yourself, Peter." The meal was very coarse. "Go sift it, and make
yourself a cake out of the bran." On the head of the brother rained down
the thanks, "Do-nothing," "Bread-consumer," "Donkey;" he endured all
with bowed head. The hood of his black cowl covered his face to his
eyebrows, and from his beard hung large raindrops; under his cowl, which
was fastened by a cord, could be seen his bare feet, covered with mud to
the ankle; his sandals he carried on his staff, so that they should not
be worn out on the rough road. There was no rest for the wet and weary
monk. The kitchen-master at once called through the vaulted porch,
"Petre, Petre, hue acceleras: ad culinam!" (Peter, Peter, come to the
kitchen, quick!)
It was a fine kitchen; now when we look at its ruins, we might believe
it a chapel and a tower; but it really was only a kitchen and a chimney.
For Peter this roomy kitchen had the disadvantage that he had to put it
in order.
The contents of the overturned tub had spread over the marble floor, and
those who had been the cause of this condition could not repair the
mischief, because the Abbot was at that moment investigating their case
in a corner by means of the lash. The two students knelt before him; and
so somebody else must clean up the floor, and that somebody was Peter.
He went obediently to work; threw off his coarse black cowl; and as he
rolled up his sleeves, one could see from the fine white skin that he
had not from childhood been accustomed to such slave's work. His face
was still young, his features regular, and, through the dulling
discipline of self-denial, immovable. He was only a brother, so the
monk's tonsure had not taken the place of his blond hair; and though his
eyes filled with tears, it was clearly caused only by coming suddenly
from the cold into the heated kitchen. Without a word, he knelt down to
clean the floor with shovel, broom, and whisk of straw.
Meanwhile, the Abbot questioned the two rascals to find out who had done
the mischief. It stood to reason neither one had. According to an old
proverb, Mischief has no master. That they had scuffled, their faces
bore evidence; John had a black and blue spot under the eye, and Samuel
a bloody scratch on his brow, but both denied any scuffle.
"Then how came this black and blue spot under your eye?" The same story
suggested itself to John which Baron de Manx was to use later in a
critical situation.
"When I tried to light the fire I could not find the flint, so I struck
myself in the eyes with one fist and with the other I held the match to
it, so when my eyes saw sparks I lighted the match by them."
The Abbot said nothing, but turned to the other: "How did you get that
wound on your forehead?" Samuel, encouraged by John's example, was also
ready with an excuse:
"I bit myself."
"How could you bite yourself in the forehead?"
"In the looking-glass."
"But you could not reach it!"
"Yes I could, I climbed up on the bench."
The Abbot compressed his lips till his fat cheeks stood out from each
other, and then pronounced the sentence:--"Joannes quia bene mentitus
est, accipiat viginti verbera; Samuel, quia male mentitus est, accipiet
triginta." (John, because he has lied well, shall have twenty lashes;
Samuel, because he has lied badly, shall have thirty.)
The two lads gave themselves up to weeping and howling and wiping away
the tears with their fists; but in secret, while the Abbot turned away,
they winked at each other slily, and this meant, I'll not strike hard,
if you won't. But the Abbot had eyes that could see without looking.
"Peter," he said to the working monk who had just finished his cleaning,
"come here."
Peter obeyed. "Take these two delinquents in charge; they would handle
each other with sly consideration, and avoid their punishment, your hand
will let the rods fall more heavily;" and he handed him a bundle of
birch rods, dipped in salt water.
Now the two lads began to howl lustily and to crawl about on their
knees, in their fear. But Peter did not reach out his hand for the
bundle of rods. The demon of pride had stirred his blood to
insurrection; his countenance glowed; his eyes blazed; he tossed back
the lock of hair from his brow, clenched his fists, and advanced one
foot. He emboldened himself to speak, although he had not been
questioned. "I am no hangman's slave, I never learned to beat men with a
besom; lock up the culprits, and I will do their work as long as they
are confined, but I do not like to whip boys."
"Petre!" said the Abbot in even tones, "Putasve quod adhuc sis dux
equitum nobilium? Es servus servorum." (Do you think you are still at
the head of noble knights? You are the slave of slaves.) And in order to
let him feel how completely he was under the rod, he laid the bundle of
sticks on the head of the defiant youth. Under this frightful burden,
the uplifted head gradually sank and the lids closed over the blazing
eyes. He unclenched his fists and crossed them on his breast. The
handsome knight was changed again to the humble monk. He reached
tremblingly for the bundle of rods, which he raised to his speechless
lips:
"Parce, pater." (Spare me, father.)
But as he laid hold of the instrument of shame, whose work it is to
disgrace that masterpiece of creation, man; to reduce to an animal him
whom God had created in his own likeness, then once again his pride
reasserted itself; he raised that noble hand, accustomed to grasp the
sword hilt, whose greatest pleasure was to cut through with sharp steel
helmet and armor; and which was now compelled with a jailer's scourge to
belabor the bare skin of unmannerly clowns.
He was only a novice, and had not yet learned that there are
seventy-seven devils in the body, and that the body receives as many
blows as there are devils. He had learned that we must regard the
nail-studded belt and the hooked lash as our benefactors, and that to
scourge the body at night until the blood flowed was an equivalent for a
day of prayer. But to beat howling students was still a horror to him.
Soon he will become accustomed to that too. At this moment was heard in
the hall the voice of the Prior. "Petre ad me tendas." ("Peter, come to
me.") Peter sighed with lightened heart and handed back the bunch of rods
to the Abbot. "The Prior calls me."
"He commands you; hasten to him."
Peter wanted to lay aside his wet cowl and put on his coarse sandals.
"Go just as you are," said the Abbot, "either you will come back here
barefooted, or you will go hence in another garb."
The Jesuit Brother dared not inquire concerning what he did not
understand, he knew only to obey, so Peter went barefooted to the Prior.
"Dearly beloved son," said the Prior to him, "it is now two years that
you have practised obedience. You have learned to be poor, to beg, to
take care of the sick, and to do the work of a day laborer. You have
six years yet, before you can be numbered among the fathers. Three years
you must pass in the library, must learn Saint Augustine by heart, and
also the Turkish, Arabic, Greek, and Russian languages; for it is
possible that when you are through your studies you may be sent into the
desert of Arabia to convert the heathen, or to Russia to encourage to
steadfastness the faithful of the Church who are persecuted by Ivan the
Terrible. So then you must spend three years among your books, keeping
awake night and day, and forcing your way into learning as yet unknown
to you. The next three years, you must wander about among hostile
peoples, where crucified martyrs and impaled saints will mark your way.
The seventh year, you must make a pilgrimage into Spain to endure the
test of your fidelity. If you endure all these tests, and all these
temptations, then may you be numbered among the fathers. All this long
way you can put behind you with one step, and out of all this learning
you need only the one word, I will. This day you may lay down your
novitiate, and tomorrow arise Father Peter, if you will voluntarily and
obediently undertake this mission. Read!" And he handed him the letter
of the Patroness.
When the young monk glanced at the hand-writing, (he must have known it
before) his whole countenance expressed sudden horror; he held the
letter in his hand as if afraid to read it; then he took it, and as he
read, his brow wrinkled, his face expressed contempt, and through his
open lips, one could see his tightly closed teeth. He read the letter
through and let his hand fall listlessly.
"We have chosen you," said the Prior. "To-morrow you will become Father
Peter, and need only to say, 'I will'."
The youth looked steadfastly at the ground.
"Have you become speechless?"
The youth raised his head; his face had regained its manly calm. "Give
me time for consideration, my father," he said, with a sweetly ringing
voice, in which was heard the sincere vibration of a naive nature. "Let
me compare the beginning and the end of this course. Surely it is not so
far for me to the desert of Bab-el-Mandeb, or to the ice-sea of Siberia,
as from the threshold of this monastery to the gate of the Madocsany
castle. Neither the raging of Ivan the Terrible at his gory banquets,
nor the nightly howl of the hyena, prowling after the dead through the
desert of sand, is to me so terrible as one whisper of this woman. More
rapidly can I learn Turkish and Arabic, Greek and Russian, and, if
necessary, Sanskrit and Mongolian, than the one word, 'I will,' Grant
me until to-morrow early to think of this."
"Very well. Take this letter to your cell, and pray God that He give you
light. For it is true that the mission we lay upon you is more difficult
than any into the land of the Scythian or Hyperborean. Omnia ad majorem
Dei gloriam."
Peter went to his cell. It was a small narrow room, five feet long and
two feet wide, with only a bed, and on the wall a crucifix. Yet the
whole night long, he did not lie down on his bed, but, like a lion in a
cage, he went back and forth over the five feet of space. There on the
bed lay the letter, and on the bed where that letter lay, he could not
lay his head. Toward morning, his decision became strong. He pushed the
letter off the bed and threw himself down, and then weariness
overpowered him; he slept so soundly that even the matin bell did not
rouse him; and he first wakened when the Abbot shook him by the arm. He
sprang up.
"Well, Peter, what is your decision?"
"This," replied Peter, treading under foot the letter as it lay on the
floor.
"Very well, then get up and follow me; the two delinquents are awaiting
their punishment."
"Wait; the Prior told me that the two years of the novitiate in which I
was to do menial service were over. Now follow three years of study;
then three years more of pilgrimage among hostile people. The Prior did
not say anything about such hangman's service as this."
"Oh, yes, he did, Peter; recollect, he said, finally you are to go to
Spain: that meant that you are to spend a year in the service of the
Holy Inquisition. Come and begin your practice now."
Peter's nerves quivered with horror. Tightly did he press his arms to
his sides and his face grew deadly pale. He raised his eyes to Heaven
and his mouth opened.
A vision passed before him of human wisdom in dog's shape, and of canine
rage in man's shape--of Ivan the Terrible--of the Saracens--of the
torture-chamber of Arbucs. It was more than his mind could bear. His
knees gave way under him; he sank down; took up the letter trodden under
foot and folded it together; concealed it in his bosom, and said, "I
will go."