Sir Oliver and his wife listened with some anxiety to the boys'
story of the rescue of the peddler. Bertram observed the cloud upon
his father's brow, and eagerly asked if he had done wrong.
"I say not so, my son," replied the knight. "I would ever have a
child of mine merciful and just--the protector of the oppressed,
and the champion of the defenceless; nevertheless--"
"And it was those bloodhounds of Mortimer's who were setting upon
him," broke in Julian vehemently. "What right had they to molest
him? Could we of Chad, upon our own soil, stand by and see it done?
I trow, father, that thou wouldst have done the same hadst thou
been there."
A smile flitted over the face of the knight. He loved to see the
generous fire burning in his boys' eyes; but for all that his face
was something anxious as he made reply:
"Belike I should, my son, albeit perhaps in a something less
vehement fashion. My authority would have served to keep down riot,
and the charge against the peddler could have been forthwith
examined, and if found false the man could then have been sent on
his way in safety. But it is dangerous work just now to appear to
side with those against whom the foul charge of heresy is brought.
Knowest thou--know any of ye--what gave rise to the sudden
suspicion?"
Edred, who knew much more of the real nature of the peddler's
occupation that day, kept his lips close sealed. He would not for
worlds have told what he had seen and heard. His brothers were
plainly ignorant of the peddler's exhortation, reading, and
preaching. It was not for him to add to the anxieties of his
parents.
Julian was the first to answer the question.
"It was but the idle spite of the people of Mortimer," he answered.
"They had baited the bull and the bear, and they had the mind to
bait or burn a heretic whilst their blood was up, as a fit end to
their day's pleasuring. I saw them prowling round the tree where
the fellow was talking to the women and showing his wares; and
suddenly they raised the shout. I called out to Bertram that
Mortimer's people were bent on a mischief, and he sprang to the
peddler's side before any had touched him, and we disappointed the
hell hounds of their prey. He had nothing in his pack but such
wares as all peddlers have; and the people vowed he had done naught
all the day but sell to all who came. It would have been sin and
shame for us of Chad to have stood by to see him hounded perhaps to
death. We could not choose but balk those evil men of their will.
None of our blood could have stood by to see such ill done!"
"I cannot blame ye, my sons," said the knight. "Ye have the blood
of your forefathers in your veins, and it goes against all of us at
Chad to see injustice and unrighteousness committed. I do but wish
the cry raised against yon man had been anything else than that of
heresy. The priests and magistrates are very busy now searching out
all those suspected of that vile sin, and those who shelter them
are accounted as guilty as those who are proved tainted. Our foe of
Mortimer is very zealous in the good cause, and will not scruple to
employ against us every weapon in his power. It would be an
excellent thing in his eyes to show how mine own children had stood
up to defend a Lollard heretic. I would we knew something more
anent this man and his views.
"Warbel, didst thou know him? Is he anyone known in and about
Chad?"
"I never saw his face before, sir," answered Warbel. "I know not so
much as his name. I had thought of making some inquiries of the
village folks. All I noted was that he seemed always to have plenty
of persons around and about him, and his wares were nothing very
attractive. Still, it is often the tales peddlers tell and the way
they have with them that keeps a crowd always about them. Some of
the folks of the place must know who and what he is."
"Yes, verily; and it would be well for thee to ride over tomorrow
and make all needful inquiry. It would set my mind at rest to know
that there was no cause of complaint against him. We cannot be
blind to the fact that heretical doctrines are widely spread by
those purporting to be hawkers and peddlers. Yet there must be many
honest men who would scorn to be so occupied, and who know not even
the name of these pestilent heresies."
And with that charge the knight tried to dismiss the subject from
his mind; whilst Edred went to bed feeling terribly uneasy, and
dreamed all night of the secret chamber, and how the time came when
they were all forced to take refuge in it from the hatred of the
Lord of Mortimer and his bloodthirsty followers.
But not even to his brothers did he tell all that he had heard and
all that he knew. The words of the gospel in the familiar language
of his country haunted him persistently. He felt a strange wish to
hear more, although he believed the wish to be sin, and strove
against it might and main. Some of the passages clung tenaciously
to his memory, and he fell asleep repeating them. When he woke the
words were yet in his mind, and they seemed to get between him and
the words of his task that day when the boys went to their tutor
for daily instruction.
Brother Emmanuel had never found Edred so inattentive and absent
before. He divined that the boy must have something on his mind,
and let him alone. He was not surprised that he lingered when the
others had gone, and then in a low voice asked his preceptor if he
would meet him in the chantry, as he felt he could not be happy
till he had made confession of a certain matter, done penance, and
received absolution.
A request of that sort never met a denial from the monk. He sent
Edred to the chantry to pray for an hour, and met him there at the
end of that time to listen to all he had to say.
Edred's story was soon told--nothing held back, not even the
innermost thoughts of his heart--and the expression of the face
beneath the enshrouding cowl was something strange to see.
It was long before the monk spoke, and meantime Edred lay prostrate
at his feet, thankful to transfer the burden weighing him down to
the keeping of another, but little guessing what the burden was to
him to whom he made this confession.
Well did Brother Emmanuel know and recognize the peril of
entertaining such thoughts, longings, and aspirations as were now
assailing the heart of this unconscious boy. That there was sin in
all these feelings he did not doubt; that heavy penance must be
done for them he would not for a moment have wished to deny. But
yet when he came to place reason in the place of the formulas of
the Church in which he had been reared, he knew not how to condemn
that longing after the Word of God which was generally the first
step towards the dreaded sin of heresy.
No one more sincerely abhorred the name and the sin of heresy. When
men denied the presence of the living God in the sacraments of the
Church, or attacked its time-honoured practices in which the heart
of the young monk was bound up, then the whole soul of the
enthusiast rose up in revolt, and he felt that such blasphemers
well deserved the fiery doom they brought upon themselves. But when
their sin was possessing a copy of the living Word; when all that
could be alleged against them was that they met together to read that
Word which was denied to them by their lawful pastors and teachers,
and which they had no opportunity of hearing otherwise--then indeed
did it seem a hard thing that they should be so mercilessly condemned
and persecuted.
Yet he could not deny that this reading and expounding of the
Scriptures by the ignorant and unlearned led almost invariably to
those other sins of blasphemy and irreverence which curdled the
very blood in his veins. Again and again had his heart burned
within him to go forth amongst the people himself; to take upon
himself and put in practice the office of evangelist, which he knew
to be a God-appointed ministry, and yet which was so seldom
worthily fulfilled, and himself to proclaim aloud the gospel, that
all might have news of the Son of God, yet might be taught to
reverence the holy sacraments more rather than less for the sake of
Him who established them upon earth, and to respect the priesthood,
even though it might in its members show itself unworthy, because
it was a thing given by Christ for the edification of the body, and
because He Himself, the High Priest passed into the heavens, must
needs have His subordinate priests working with Him and by Him on
earth.
Again and again had longings such as these filled his soul, and he
had implored leave to go forth preaching and teaching. But he had
never won permission to do this. The request had been treated with
contempt, and he himself had been suspected of ambition and other
unworthy motives. He had submitted to the will of his superiors, as
his vow of obedience obliged him to do; but none the less did his
heart burn within him as he saw more and more plainly how men were
thirsting for living waters, and realized with ever-increasing
intensity of pain and certainty that if the Church herself would
not give her children to drink out of pure fountains, they would
not be hindered from drinking of poisoned springs, and thus draw
down upon themselves all manner of evils and diseases.
He had never doubted for a moment the pureness of the source from
which he himself drank. He was not blind to the imperfections many
and great of individuals in high places, and the corruptions which
had crept within the pale of the Church, but these appeared to him
incidental and capable of amendment. He never guessed at any deeper
poison at work far below, tainting the very waters at their source.
He was in all essential points an orthodox son of Rome; but he had
imbibed much of the spirit of the Oxford Reformers, of whom Colet
was at this time the foremost, and his more enlightened outlook
seemed to the blind and bigoted of his own order to savour
something dangerously of heresy.
He did not know himself seriously suspected. His conscience was too
clear, his devotion to the Church too pure, to permit of his easily
fearing unworthy suspicions. He knew himself no favourite with the
stately but self-indulgent Prior of Chadwater; knew that Brother
Fabian, whom he had once sternly rebuked for an act of open sin,
was his bitter enemy. But he had not greatly heeded this, strong in
his own innocence, and he had been far happier at Chad in the more
truly pure atmosphere of that secular house than in the so-called
sanctity of the cloister.
And now he found his own thoughts, aspirations, and yearnings
repeated in the mind of his favourite pupil, and he was confronted
by a problem more difficult to solve than any that had met him
before. In his own case he felt he had a compass to steer by--the
restraint and guidance of his vows and his habit to help him. But
how would it be with this ardent and imaginative boy? His mind was
struggling to free itself from artificial trammels. To what goal
might not that wish lead?
Earnestly he looked upon the bowed form at his feet, and in his
eyes there was a great compassion. But his lips pronounced, with
sternness and decision, the words of the heavy penance imposed, and
at the end of the prescribed formulas he raised the boy and looked
searchingly into his face.
"My son," he said, very gently yet very impressively, "remember
that the first sin that entered into the world was the sin of
disobedience. Remember that Satan's most powerful weapon is the one
which he employed towards our first mother when he bid her eat of
the tree of knowledge, because that knowledge is good--a God-given
thing--when he persuaded her that God was wrong in keeping anything
hidden from her that in itself was good. The same sin by which
death entered the world has abounded there ever since. God and the
Son of God and the Church have always taught that there be certain
things hidden, only to be revealed to man by God or through the
ordinances of the Church, not to be sought after through curiosity
by unlettered men themselves. Yet for as much as Satan is never at
rest, and can transform himself on occasion into an angel of light,
he is ever present with men urging them on to pry into these hidden
mysteries and to make light of the ordinances of God. He puts into
their mouth words similar to those by which he tempted the woman to
her fall, and men listen greedily as our first mother did, and are
led into destruction when they think they are walking forth into
the light of day.
"My son, beware of this sin; beware of this temptation. Remember
the many solemn warnings against disobedience contained in the Word
of God; remember how obedience is insisted on throughout that holy
volume. Thou mayest not always see the reason--thou mayest not
always recognize the authority; but remember that there is a
blessing upon those who obey, and be not in haste to break the bond
under which thou wast born, remembering who has placed thee where
thou art, and who has bidden us give all dutiful obedience to the
powers that be."
Edred made a deep reverence, crossed himself silently in token of
submission, and prostrated himself upon the step of the altar, to
lie there fasting till set of sun as one part of his penance. With
a murmured prayer and blessing the monk left him, hoping that he
had spoken a word of seasonable warning to one whose heart was
enkindled with ardent devotion, whilst his active mind and vivid
imagination were in danger of leading him into perilous paths.
No questions were asked of Edred respecting this penance, which
took him away from his ordinary occupations during the chief part
of the two following days. He and Brother Emmanuel alone knew the
reason for it, and it was against the traditions of the house that
any open notice should be taken by others.
The episode of the peddler and the outbreak with the followers of
Mortimer had begun to fade somewhat from the minds of those at
Chad. No complaint had reached that house from Mortimer's Keep, as
had been expected, and it was hoped that the thing would never be
heard of again.
Yet it was with something of a sinking heart that Sir Oliver heard
the third day that the Prior of Chadwater desired speech of him;
and as he mounted his horse and summoned his servants about him, he
wondered, not without considerable uneasiness, what this summons
might mean.
He had always been on good terms with the handsome prior of the
Benedictine monastery. The choicest of the game, the fattest of the
bucks slain in the forest, the chiefest specimens of his wife's
culinary triumphs, always found their way to the prior's table, and
an excellent understanding had always been maintained between the
two houses. But the knight had observed of late that the prior had
become more slack in those visits of friendly courtesy which once
had been common enough between them; and when he had presented
himself at the monastery, he had not been quite certain that his
welcome was as cordial as heretofore. It was not until latterly
that this had caused him any uneasiness--it had taken him some
while to feel sure that it was anything but his own fantasy; but he
had just begun to feel that something was amiss, and now this
summons seemed to him to have an evil import.
However, there was nothing for it but to go; and a clear conscience
keeps a man bold even in face of greater peril than was likely to
assail him now. He thought it probable that some rumour of the stir
on the fair day had reached the ecclesiastic, and that he wanted an
account of it in detail. Sir Oliver was quite prepared to give him
that, and entered the presence of the prior with a bold front and
an air of cordial courtesy such as he was wont to wear in the
presence of this dignitary.
There was nothing alarming in the prior's manner. He received his
guest graciously, bid him be seated in the best chair reserved for
the use of guests, and asked him of the welfare of his household
with benevolence and friendly interest. But after all that had been
said, his face took another look, and he brought up the subject of
the travelling peddler or preacher, and asked the knight what his
sons meant by standing champions to a notable and pernicious
Lollard heretic.
The knight started at the words, and disclaimed any such knowledge
both on behalf of himself and his sons. He told the tale as Bertram
and Julian had told it him; and there was such sincerity in his
manner, and his character both for orthodoxy and for scrupulous
truthfulness in word and deed was so widely known and respected,
that the prior's brow unbent somewhat, and he looked less stern and
severe.
"I believe your story, Sir Knight," he said. "I believe that your
sons sinned in ignorance. But none the less is it true that they
have stood champions for a pestilent heretic; and that is an
offence not likely to escape the vengeful notice of the Lord of
Mortimer, who is always on the lookout for a cause of complaint
against person or persons at Chad."
"That is very true," replied Sir Oliver, thoughtfully and gravely.
"I was greatly vexed when I heard of the affair, and chided my boys
for their hot-headed rashness. Howbeit there be many there to
testify that the man was at that time but hawking his wares, and my
sons could not know that he was a secret heretic and Lollard."
"Nay, but when that cry was raised they should not have stood at
his side as his champions without more knowledge of the truth. The
man is now known to have been preaching well nigh the whole day
long, reading portions of those accursed translations of Wycliffe's
which are damnation to all who possess them or listen to them, and
expounding thereupon in the fashion that sends persons raving mad
with the poison of heresy. The man is in hiding somewhere in the
woods about; but he will soon be caught and handed over to the
secular power to be doomed to death. And I like not the story of
your sons' part in all this; it hath an ugly look."
Sir Oliver hid his anxiety beneath a cloak of dignified submission.
He well knew the best way of putting things straight with the
prior.
"I greatly grieve over the hotheadedness of the lads, but I will
gladly make such amends as lies in my power. They sinned in
ignorance, as you, reverend father, believe, and for such sins the
indulgence of the Church may be won by the payment of such sum as
shall be thought right. If you will tell me what I ought to give to
purchase this indulgence, I will do my utmost to meet the just
claim; and Holy Church shall be richer and not poorer for the
trespass unwittingly made by the sons of Chad."
The prior looked pleased at this ready suggestion, and named a sum
which, though sufficiently heavy, was within Sir Oliver's means,
and which he promised should be immediately paid. He knew that the
prior, though a man fond of money, and somewhat greedy in gaining
possession of all he could, was not treacherous or unjust; and that
if he had accepted this sum as the price of the pardon of the boys'
escapade, he would stand their friend, and not allow them to be
persecuted by Mortimer for the same offence, should the matter ever
be brought up against them again.
Indeed, now that the arrangement had been so amicably entered into,
Sir Oliver was rather glad that the subject had been broached. The
prior was the most powerful man in the county, and to have him for
a friend was everything. It was his game to hold the balance very
nicely betwixt the owners of Mortimer and Chad, keeping his neutral
position, and not permitting either party to overstep the limits
beyond a certain extent. After what had just passed, he felt
assured that the prior would not permit his boys to be harried or
accused of countenancing heresy by their enemy, and he was well
pleased at the interview and its result.
He rose now as if to go, but the prior motioned him to resume his
seat.
"There is yet another matter upon which I would speak to you," he
said. "You have beneath your roof one of our younger brethren,
Brother Emmanuel. How have you found him comport himself since he
has been free from the restraints of the cloister?"
The knight looked surprised at the question.
"He is in all ways a very godly and saintly youth," he replied. "He
instructs my sons after an excellent fashion, keeps the hours of
the Church with a scrupulous precision I have never seen equalled,
and instructs all who come to him for advice or assistance in a
manner that makes him beloved of all. Whenever I have talked with
him or gone to him for spiritual counsel, I have been greatly
struck by his spiritual insight, his purity of thought, his
earnestness of mind, and his knowledge of the Holy Scriptures."
The prior shifted a little in his seat, and coughed behind his hand
somewhat dubiously.
"He was ever prone to observe the hours well. He lived blamelessly
here in all outward observances; but as for his knowledge of the
Holy Scriptures, it may be that it goes something too far. It is
whispered abroad that some of his words savour strongly of those
very Lollard heresies which are about to be put down with fire and
sword. Hast thou heard and seen naught of that?"
A thrill of indignation ran through Sir Oliver's frame. It was only
by an effort that he restrained a hasty exclamation. He well knew
that the wave of enlightened feeling rising within the Church
herself had found no echo in the remoter parts of the kingdom,
where bigotry and darkness and intolerance still reigned supreme.
He was perfectly aware that the most enlightened sons of the Church
who had dared to bid the people study the Word of God, and
especially to study it as a whole, would have been denounced as
heretics had they lifted up their voices in many parts of the
kingdom. This very enlightened understanding, which was so marked a
feature in Brother Emmanuel, had been one of the strongest bonds
between him and his patron, and it seemed little short of monstrous
to the knight to hear such an accusation brought against one who
had lived a godly and blameless life, had observed far more
rigorously all the laws of the Church than the prior or the
fraternity thought of doing, and was a far truer and better son
than they ever attempted to be.
But he restrained his indignation, and only answered very calmly:
"I have seen naught of it; indeed, I have seen so much to the
contrary, that methinks it is but an idle tale, not worth your
reverence's attention. In every matter, word or deed, Brother
Emmanuel is faithful to his vows and to his calling. He is an able
instructor of youth; and were your reverence to examine him as
strictly as possible, I do not believe that any cause of offence,
however trivial, could be found against him."
"I am well pleased to hear such good testimony," returned the
prior, who was regarding his visitor with a scrutiny not altogether
agreeable to the knight. "At the same time, it is not always well
for a monk to remain too long away from the cloister, and a change
of instructor is ofttimes better for the young. I have been
thinking that it might be well to recall Brother Emmanuel, and send
in his place Brother Fabian, in whom I repose the greatest
confidence. How would such a change meet your good pleasure? If
Brother Emmanuel is in need of penance, it can better be imposed
here than elsewhere--and by all I hear it seems to me that he
stands something in need of the discipline of the monastery; and
Brother Fabian would make an excellent substitute as an instructor
for the lads."
Whilst the prior was speaking, thought had been rapid with Sir
Oliver, and something in the prior's look--a subtlety and almost
cruelty about the lines of the mouth--warned him that there was in
this proposition that which boded evil to someone.
It flashed across him that Brother Emmanuel was perhaps to be made
a victim of ecclesiastical tyranny and cruelty. He knew that the
ascetic young monk had been no favourite with his brethren at
Chadwater; and if they could bring against him some charge of
heresy, however trifling, it was like enough that he might be
silently done to death, as others of his calling had been for less
fearful offences. Monastic buildings held their dark secrets, as
the world was just beginning to know; and only a short while back
he had heard a whisper that it was not wise for a monk to be too
strict in his hours and in his living. Then again, Brother Fabian
was a coarse, illiterate man, utterly unfit to be the guide and
instructor of youth. Sir Oliver had not dined at the prior's table
and spent hours in his company for nothing, and he knew many of the
monks tolerably well. Brother Fabian was the one he liked the
least; indeed he had a strong dislike and distrust of the man, and
was well aware that the ecclesiastical habit was the only thing
about him that savoured of sanctity or the monastic life. He would
not have allowed the contaminating presence of such a man near his
sons, even had he been indued with the needful learning for the
task of instructor. As it was, he knew that the monk could barely
spell through his breviary, and it was plain that the prior must
have another reason for wishing to induct him into the house.
Nor was the reason difficult to divine. It was not as an instructor
but as a spy that Brother Fabian was to come. The whispers
abroad--doubtless spread industriously by his vengeful foe--had not
been without effect, and men had begun to suspect that his
household was tainted with heresy. Brother Emmanuel was suspected,
his sons were probably suspected as being his pupils, and possibly
some other members of his household too. Brother Fabian was to be
sent to act as spy, and if bribed (as was most probable) by the
Lord of Mortimer, would doubtless find some cause of offence which
could be twisted into an accusation of heresy against someone
there.
It was difficult for Sir Oliver to see his way all in a moment. To
oppose this scheme or to submit to it appeared alike dangerous. His
independence and honest English pride revolted against any attempt
to coerce him in his domestic arrangements, or to submit to
interference there, even from the ministers of the Church.
But it was needful to walk warily, and the prior was watching him
as a cat does a mouse.
"Will you give me a few days to consider this matter?" he asked, in
as easy a tone as he could. "Your reverence knows that changes are
not of themselves welcome to me; and my sons have made such
progress with Brother Emmanuel that I am something loath to part
with him. Also, they are at this moment going through a course of
study which none other could conclude with the same advantage.
Brother Fabian is doubtless an excellent brother of his order, but
he has scarce the same learning as Brother Emmanuel. Nevertheless,
I will well consider the change proposed, and give it all dutiful
heed. But I should like to speak with my wife anent the matter, and
learn her will. It is not a matter of pressing haste, by what I
have gathered from your words?"
"No, not one of pressing haste. Yet I would not long delay,"
answered the prior. "I may not speak too openly, but there be
reasons why I would have Brother Emmanuel beneath this roof once
more. I will leave thee one week to consider and to get the course
of study completed. At the week's end, methinks, I shall be
constrained to bid Brother Emmanuel return home. But if all be well
after a short time has sped by, he may return again to thee."
Sir Oliver was looking full at the handsome but crafty face of the
prior, and as the last words passed his lips he saw a flicker in
the eyes which made him say within his heart:
"If Brother Emmanuel once re-enters these walls, he will never
sally forth again. Mischief is meant him; of that I am convinced.
What must I do? Must I give him up to his death? And how can I save
him, even if I would?"
These thoughts were surging in his heart as he rode home. The peril
he had feared against those of his own name and race had been
averted. The payment of what was practically a heavy fine would
secure to the boys immunity from the results of their rashness; but
with the monk it was far different. What had aroused the animosity
of the fraternity, and why mischief was planned against him, Sir
Oliver could not divine; but that something had occurred to arouse
it he could not doubt.
No sooner had he reached home than he sought Brother Emmanuel in
his own bare room, and laid before him the account of what had
passed.
A strange look crossed the young monk's face.
"Then it is known!" he said simply.
"What is known?"
"That I am the author of a certain pamphlet, written some while
ago, and taken to Germany to be printed, giving an account of some
of the corruptions and abuses that have stolen into the Church, and
in especial into the monasteries and religious houses of this land.
I could not choose but write it. If the Church is to be saved, it
can only be by her repudiation of such corruptions, and by a
process of self cleansing that none can do for her. I always knew
that if suspected my life would pay the forfeit; but I know not how
the authorship has been discovered. Yet the great ones of the land
have ways we know not of; and if the truth is not known, it is
suspected. I am to go back to the priory; but once there, I shall
never go forth again. Yet what matter? I always knew if the thing
were known my life would .pay the forfeit. I wrote as the Spirit
bid me; I know that God was with me then. I am ready to lay down my
life in a good cause; I am not afraid what man can do unto me."
Sir Oliver looked into that young face, which the martyr spirit
illuminated and glorified, and an answering spark kindled in his
own eyes.
"If that is thine offence, and not the alleged one of heresy, I
will stand thy friend," he said; "and thou shalt not go forth from
Chad to thy death so long as I have a roof to shelter thee. I will
stand thy friend and protector so long as I have a house to call
mine own."