THE FALL OF THE LOT
The elders of the Caio tribe assembled as enjoined. Some few were not
present, risking the anger of Rogier rather than appear before him. But
the majority conceived it advisable to attend; and, in fact, a gathering
of the notables was necessary for the apportionment of the fine that had
to be raised. Although a mark in silver was what had to be exacted from
each house, yet, as the majority of the inhabitants were too poor to pay
such a sum, the richer would have to supplement the deficiency. The fine
was imposed on the district as a whole. The amount was calculated by the
hearths, but each householder was not expected to pay the same fixed
sum.
This was well understood, and the adjustment of the burden had to be
considered in common. There was, so it was generally supposed, no
exceptional cause for further uneasiness. The tax must be raised, and
when the silver had been paid, then the valley would be rid of its
intruders--with the exception of the renegade Cadell, forced on the
tribe as its ecclesiastical chief. That Rogier had any fresh cause of
complaint against the inhabitants was not suspected.
They assembled accordingly, and entered the council-hall.
It was not till all were within that the young men and women without
were filled with alarm and suspicion by seeing the men-at-arms slowly,
and in orderly fashion, close in and completely surround the edifice,
and a strong detachment occupy the door.
Rogier had remained outside, and gave directions. Presently he stepped
within, attended by two men, one of whom served as his interpreter.
The sun was shining, and it had painted a circle on the floor through
the opening in the gable.
Then the Norman took his sword, and drew a line in the dust with it from
the president's seat to the doorway.
"I give ye," said he, "till the sun hath crossed this line, wherein to
discuss and arrange as to the payment of the fine. Till then--no one
leaves the hall. After that--I have a further communication to make."
The men looked in one another's faces and wondered what this meant. A
fresh impost? They were not aware that occasion had been given for this;
but who could be sure with one so rapacious as Rogier! It was the case
of the Wolf and the Lamb in the fable.
The Norman now left the court-house and sauntered about outside,
speaking to his men, looking pryingly among those of the natives who, in
an anxious, timorous crowd, remained in every avenue between the houses,
ready at a threat to escape.
After the lapse of approximately an hour the Norman reentered the hall
and walked directly to the principal seat to take it.
Then up started an aged man, and with vehement gesticulations and in
words of excitement addressed him: "That seat is taken by none--save of
the race of Cunedda. It belongs to our chief, who is of the blood royal.
None other may occupy it."
"I take it by the right of the sword," answered Rogier. "And let me see
the man who will turn me out of it. I take it as deputy to my brother,
the bishop."
He laughed contemptuously, and let himself down on the chair.
"Well," said he, looking round, "have you settled among yourselves as to
the contribution? The round gold patch touches my line. I give you till
it has passed across it to conclude that matter."
Then Howel ap John stood up.
"We have considered and apportioned the charges," he said, and his
cunning eyes contracted. "Amongst ourselves we have arranged what each
is to pay. But, inasmuch as we are nothing save tribesmen of our chief,
and as the right over the land was at one time wholly his, but has since
suffered curtailment, so that portions have become hereditary holdings
of the chief men, yet as still the common lands, as well as the glebe
and the domain, belong to the chief, it has seemed reasonable and just
that he should bear one-third of the fine, and that this shall be levied
on his land and homesteads, and two-thirds upon us."
When this was translated to Rogier, he laughed aloud.
"I see," said he, "the holder of the benefice is to bear a third. What
will Cadell say to that?"
"It is a decision according to equity," said Howel.
"I care not. Cadell is not here to protect himself. So long as I have
the silver to hand to the bishop, it is indifferent to me whether you
bleed your own veins or fleece your pastor. He has been put in a fat
pasture by my brother; it is right that he pay for it."
"In two days the silver shall be brought here and weighed out."
"It is well." Rogier looked at the sun-patch. "That is concluded; now
tarry till the sun traverses the line. Then we will broach other
business."
All sat now in silence, their eyes on the soil, watching the patch of
light as it traveled.
The men of Caio were aware that the doorway was guarded. But what was
threatened they could not conjecture. They had endured intolerable
provocations without resistance. They were anxious at heart; their
breasts contracted at the dread of fresh exactions. Some looked at
Rogier to endeavor to read his purpose in his face; but his, as well as
the countenances of his attendants, was expressionless.
The sun-round passed on. Then a cloud obscured the light, a fine and
fleecy cloud that would be gone shortly.
All tarried in silence, breathless, fearing they knew not what--but
expecting no good.
Then the sun burst forth again, and the circle of fire appeared beyond
the line.
At once Rogier stood up.
"You men of Caio, you have thought to deal with a fool, and to deceive
me by your craft. But I know what has been done, and will make you to
understand on whom ye have practised your devices. Pabo, the chief and
Archpriest, is not dead. It was not he who was consumed in the
presbytery. Ye played a stage mystery before our eyes to make us believe
that he was dead, and that you were burying him. Pabo is alive and is
among you, and you know where he is concealed."
The interpreter was interrupted by outcries of, "We know not. If that
were not he, we cannot say where he be. We found a man burned to a
cinder. Were we in error in supposing him to be our chief? Show us that
it was so!"
Rogier remained unmoved by the clamor.
"Ye are like a parcel of lying, quibbling women," he said. "Pabo is in
hiding. Ye are all leagued together to save him. But have him from his
lurking-den I will."
"We cannot say where he is. There is not one of us who knows."
"You will admit that he whom ye pretended to be Pabo was some other?"
They looked doubtfully at each other.
"We could not tell. The dead man was found in the ruins of the burnt
house. We thought it was Pabo."
"Ye did not. Ye contrived the device between you."
"We will swear that we know not where he is. Bring forth the staff of
Cynwyl."
"The staff has been stolen. But I will not trust your oaths. Did not the
wife of Pabo swear thereon?" Then Rogier laughed. "She was crafty as the
rest of you, and deceived us in her oath. Nay, I will trust no oaths. I
will place my reliance on something more secure. Hey! bring forward my
bassinet!"
At his order, one of the attendants went to the door and received a
steel cap from a soldier without.
"In this bassinet," said Rogier, "there are short willow twigs. There
are more twigs than there are householders and notables here assembled.
Of these twigs all but six are blank; but on half a dozen a death's head
has been scored with a dagger point, rubbed in with black. He who draws
such a figured twig shall be hung on the gallows, where is suspended
your church bell--one to-day, a second to-morrow. On Sunday, being a
sacred day, none; on Monday a third, on Tuesday a fourth, on Wednesday a
fifth, on Thursday the sixth. And on Friday ye shall all assemble here
once more, and again draw the lots. I shall hang one of you every day
till Pabo be delivered up to me, alive."
Then there broke forth cries, protests, entreaties; there were hands
stretched towards the window through which the sun entered, in oath that
the whereabouts of Pabo was not known; there were arms extended to
Rogier in assurance that Pabo was actually dead. Some cried out that
they had had no cognizance of any plot to deceive. Many folded their
arms in sullen wrath or despair.
Then Rogier lifted his sword and commanded silence. "No word spoken,"
said he, "will move me from my purpose. One thing can alone rob the
gallows of its rich burden--the delivery of your late chief, Pabo."
"We cannot do it. We know not where he is."
"Then let justice take its course. This I will suffer. When each has
drawn his lot from the cap, he shall bring it in his closed fist to me,
and open it where I stand in the ray of sunlight. If he have an unmarked
stick, he shall go forth by the door unmolested. But he who shall have
the death's head in his hand shall tarry here. And when all six are
selected, then will I suffer each in turn to be conducted to his home,
there to bid farewell to his family, and so to dispose of his worldly
affairs as pleaseth him. I will allow each one hour to effect this; then
he will return hither. The first man who draws the bad lot shall be
strung to the gallows to-day. If ye be wise men, he will be the only one
who will go to make a chime of bells. If Pabo be delivered to me before
noon to-morrow, then no second man shall hang. If he be given up on
Monday before mid-day no third man shall swing. But--if you remain
obstinate, I will go on hanging ye to the last man. Come, in your order,
as ye sit; draw to the bassinet and take out your lot. I lay the steel
cap on what ye call the seat of your chief."
Then the old man advanced, he who had protested against the occupation
of the chair, and said--"I am ready to die, whether in my bed or on the
gibbet matters little to me. God grant that I be the man taken. My time
at best is but short. Another year to me matters not a hair."
He walked to the bassinet, without hesitation drew his lot, carried it
to the Norman--who stood in the sun-ray--and unclosed his withered hand.
In it was an unmarked stick.
"Pass forth," said Rogier.
"Nay," said the old man. "My son comes after me--let him draw."
A tall, well-built man walked boldly to the cap, drew, and approached
the sunbeam.
"Open!" ordered Rogier.
He held a marked stick.
"On one side--food for the crows," said the Norman.
Then the old man fell on his knees. "I beseech you take me and spare
him. He has a young wife and a child. He has life before him, mine is
all behind."
"Away," ordered Rogier. "The lot decides--the judgment is with heaven,
not with me."
"Father," said the young man, "I am willing to die for my chief."
Then followed several who went free, and escaped into the open air,
where they drew long breaths, as though their lungs had been cramped
within.
The next who drew the death's head was a mean little man with pointed,
foxy face and red hair. He fell into convulsions of terror, clung to
Rogier, implored for life, promised to betray whatever he knew--only,
unhappily, he did not know where Pabo was concealed, but undertook, if
pardoned, to find out. The bishop's brother spurned him from him with
disgust. Then came three with blanks and were sent outside.
The third taken was Howel.
"One can but die once," said he, and shrugged his shoulders. "My old
woman will have to look out for a second husband. May he be better than
the first."
He stepped aside without the exhibition of much feeling, but avoided the
whimpering wretch who had drawn the death's head before him.
"Hah!" said Iorwerth the Smith, as he opened his palm and disclosed the
marked twig, "I thought something would fall to me for striking that
blow which disabled the captain's arm. Would to heaven I had aimed
better and broken his skull! He did not know me, or I should have been
hung before this." Singularly enough, the very next to draw was also one
who drew an unlucky stick, and this was Morgan the Sacristan.
"Since the Sanctuary of David has been invaded, and the wild beast of
the field tramples on the vineyard, I care not; and now the secret of
where is hid the rod of Cynwyl will perish with me."
Next came a whole batch who drew blanks, and gladly escaped with their
necks.
The last to draw the death's head looked steadily at it, and said: "She
is always right. I thought so; now I'm sure of it. My wife said to me,
'Do not go to the meeting?' I said, 'Why not?' Like a woman, she
couldn't give a reason; but repeated, 'Do not go.' I have come, and now
shall swing with the rest. It's a rough way of learning a lesson. And
having learnt it--can no more practise it."