CHAPTER III
HOLY THORN AND HOLY CHURCH
In South Morgraunt stands Holy Thorn, more properly the Abbey of SaintGiles of Holy Thorn, a broad and fair foundation, one of the two set upin the forest by the Countess Isabel, Dowager of March and Bellesme,Countess of Hauterive and Lady of Morgraunt in her own right. Where theWan river makes a great loop, running east for three miles, and westagain for as many before it drives its final surge towards the SouthernSea, there stands Holy Thorn, Church and Convent, watching over the redroofs of Malbank hamlet huddled together across the flood. Here aregreen water-meadows and good corn-lands, the abbey demesne; here alsoare the strips of tillage which the tenants hold; here the sluiceswhich head up the river for the Abbey mills, make thunderous music allday long. Over this cleared space and over some leagues of the virginforest, the Abbot of Saint Thorn has sac and soc, tholl and theam,catch-a-thief-in, catch-a-thief-out, as well as other sovereignprerogatives, all of which he owes to the regret and remorse of theCountess Isabel over the death of her first husband and only lover,Fulk de Breaute. Further north, in Mid-Morgraunt, is Gracedieu, herother foundation--equally endowed, but holding white nuns instead ofwhite monks.
Now it so happened that as Prosper le Gai entered the purlieus ofMorgraunt, the Countess Isabel sat in the Abbey parlour of Saint Thorn,knitting her fine brows over a business of the Abbot's, no less thanthe granting of a new charter of pit and gallows, pillory and tumbrilto him and his house over the villeins of Malbank, and the whole feeand soke. The death of these unfortunates, or the manner of it, was oflittle moment; but the Countess, having much power, was jealous how shelent it. She sat now, therefore, in the Abbot's great chair, and beforeher stood the Abbot himself, holding in his hands the charter fairlywritten out on parchment, with the twisted silk of three colours readyto receive her seal. It was exactly this which she was not very readyto give, for though she knew nothing of his villeins, she knew much ofthe Abbot, and was of many minds concerning him. There was yet time;their colloquy was in secret; but now she tapped with her foot upon thestool, and the Abbot watched her narrowly. He was a tall and personableman, famous for his smile, stout and smooth, his skin soft as awoman's, his robe, his ring, his cross and mere slippers all in accord.
At length, says he, "Madam, for the love of the Saints, but chiefly forMary's love; to the glory of God and of Saint Giles of Holy Thorn; tothe ease of his monks and the honour of the Church, I beseech yourLadyship this small boon."
The clear-cold eyes of the Countess Isabel looked long at him beforeshe said--"Do I then show love to the Saints and give God honour, LordAbbot, by helping you swing your villeins? Pit and gallows, pillory andtumbril! You go too far."
"Dear lady," said he, "I go no further, if I have them, than my Sistersof Gracedieu. That hedged community of Christ's brides hath all thesecommodities and more, even the paramount privilege of Sanctuary, whichis an appanage of the very highest in the Holy Fold. And I mustconsider it as scarcely decent, as (by the Mass) not seemly at all,that your Holy Thorn, this sainted sprig of your planting, should lackthe power to prick. Our people, madam, do indeed expect it. It is notmuch. Nay!"--for he saw his Lady frown and heard her toe-tapsagain--"indeed, it is not much. A little pit for your female thief toswim at large, for your witch and bringer-in of hell's ordinances; adecent gallows a-top for your proper male rascal; a pillory for yourtenderer blossom of sin while he qualify for an airy crown, or findspace for repentance and the fruits of true contrition; lastly, apersuasive tumbril, a close lover for your incorrigible wantongirls--homely chastisement such as a father Abbot may bestow, and yetwear a comely face, and yet be loved by those he chasteneth. Madam, isthis too much for so great a charge as ours? We of Holy Thorn nurturethe good seed with scant fortune, being ridden down by evil livers,deer-stealers, notorious persons, scandalous persons. A little pit,therefore! a little limber gallows!"
But the Countess mused with her hand to her chin, by no meanspersuaded. She was still a young woman, and a very lonely one; hergreat prerogatives (which she took seriously) tired her to death, butthe need of exercising them through other people was worst of all. Nowshe said doubtfully, "I have no reason in especial to trust you, Abbot."
The Abbot, who knew better than she how true this was, bit his lip andremained silent. He was a very comely man and leaned much topersuasion, particularly with women. He was always his own audience:the check, therefore, amounted to exposure, almost put him to openshame. The Countess went on to ask, who in particular of his villeinshe had dread of, who was turbulent, who a deer-stealer, who notoriousas a witch or wise woman, who wanton and a scandalous liver? And herethe Abbot was apt with his names. There was Red Sweyn, half an outlawalready, and by far too handy with his hunting-knife; there wasPinwell, as merry a little rogue as ever spoiled for a cord. There wereRogerson and Cutlaw; there was Tom Sibby, the procuress. Mald also, awithered malignant old wife, who had once blighted a year's increase byher dealing with the devil. Here was stuff for gallows, pit andpillory, all dropping-ripe for the trick. For tumbril, he went on(watching his adversary like a cat), "who so proper as black-hairedIsoult, witch, and daughter of a witch, called by men Isoult laDesirous--and a gaunt, half-starved, loose-legged baggage she is," hewent on; "reputed of vile conversation for all the slimness of heryears--witch, and a witch's brat."
He looked sideways at the great lady as he spoke of this creature, andsaw that all was going exactly as he would wish it. He had not been theCountess' confessor for nothing, nor had he learnt in vain the story ofher secret marriage with Fulk de Breaute, and of the murder of thisyouth on Spurnt Heath one blowy Bartlemy Eve. And for this reason hehad dared to bring the name of Isoult into his catalogue of rogues,that he knew his woman, and all woman-kind; how they hate most in theirneighbours that which they are tenderest of in themselves. Let there beno mistake here. The Countess had been no luxurious liver, though amost unhappy one. The truth is that, beautiful woman as she still was,she had been a yet more beautiful girl, Countess of Hauterive in herown right, and as such betrothed to the great Earl Roger of March andBellesme. Earl Roger, who was more than double her age, went out tofight; she stayed at home, in the nursery or near it, and Fulk deBreaute came to make eyes. These he made with such efficacy that Isabellost her heart first and her head afterwards, wedded Fulk in secret,bore him a child, and was the indirect means of his stabbing by theEarl's men as he was riding through the dark over Spurnt Heath. Thechild was given to the Abbot's keeping (whence it promptly andconveniently vanished), the Countess was married to the Earl; then theEarl died. Whereupon she, still young, childless so far as she couldlearn, and possessed of so much, founded her twin abbeys in Morgrauntto secure peace for the soul of Fulk and her own conscience. This willsuffice to prove that the Abbot had some grounds for his manoeuvring.The breaking of her troth to the Earl she held to make her anadulteress; the stabbing of Fulk by the Earl to prove her a murderess.There was neither mercy nor discernment in these reproaches. Shebelieved herself a wanton when she had been but a lover. For no sin,therefore, had she so little charity as for that which the Abbot hadimputed to his candidate for the tumbril. Isoult la Desirous it was whowon the charter, as the Abbot had intended she should, to serve his endand secure her own according to his liking.
For the charter was sealed and seisin delivered in the presence of DomGalors, almoner of the Abbey, of Master Porges, seneschal of HighMarch, and of one or two mesne lords of those parts. Then the Countesswent to bed; and at this time Prosper le Gai was also lying in thefringes of Morgraunt, asleep on his shield with his red cloak over him,having learned from a hind whom he met on the hill that at MalbankSaint Thorn he would find hospitality, and that his course must lie insuch and such a direction.
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