by Guy Thorne
CHAPTER VII
"Introibo ad altare Dei."
"Surely," said a monk of Bec, "God has made the evening beautiful andfull of lights, so that we may think on Him at that time, and as wewatch the very gates of heaven in the sky, pray to our Father that wemay some day be there also."
It was a holy and wonderful evening-time, as the boat glided on throughthe vast shining solitudes. The heavenly influence stole into the soulsof the three serfs, and purged them of all fear and sorrow. Imagine theenormous change in their lives. A curtain seemed to have fallen over allthat they had known. The noise of the horrible castle, the sharp orders,the lash of the whip, the foetid terrors of the stoke, had allvanished as if they had never been. Before them might lie a wonderfullife, possible happiness, freedom. At any rate, for the moment they werefree, and the sky shone like the very pavements of heaven.
All three of them noticed the beautiful sunset with surprise, as if itwere a thing that had never been before their eyes till now.
Day by day, as their work at Hilgay was drawing to a close, the sky hadbeen as beautiful as this. The sky had been all gold and red, and coppergreen and great purple clouds had passed over it like a march of kings.But they had never seen it until now. Freedom had come to them andwhispered in their ears. She had passed her hands over their eyes, andthey began to know, with a sort of wonder, that the world was beautiful.Nor was this all of the gracious message. Everything was altered. Hyla,it will be remembered, had a face of little outward intelligence. Hehad, in fact, the face of a serf. But the latent possibilities of it hadbeen made fine realities within the last few hours. What he had done,his own independent action, woke up the God in him, as it were. Hisvoice was not so slipshod. Round his mouth were two fine lines ofdecision, his lips did not seem so full, his eyes were alert andconscious.
Gurth was a sunny-haired, nut-brown youth, straight as a willow wand,and of a careless, happy disposition. But he had been cowed by the sternand cruel subjection under which he had lived. One could see the changein him also. He flung his arms about as he punted, with the gracefulmovements of a free man who felt his limbs his own. Little smilesrippled round his lips, he looked like a young man thinking of a girl.
It is obviously most difficult for us to project ourselves with anycertainty into the mood of these three men. The whole conditions of ourlives are so absolutely different. But we can at any rate imagine forourselves, with some kindness of spirit, how joyous these tremulousbeginnings of freedom must have been! The modern talk of "freedom," theboasting of nations that enjoy it, does not mean very much to us. Thething is a part of our lives, we do not know how much it is. But whoshall estimate the mysterious splendour that irradiated the hearts ofthose three poor outcasts?
The long supple poles went swishing into the water and the boat leaptforward. They rose trailing out of the water, and the drops fell fromthem in cascades of jewels, green, crimson, and pearl. Every now andagain the turnings of the passage brought them to a stretch of waterwhich went due west. Then they glided up a sheet of pure vivid crimson,and at the end the fiery half-globe of the sun.
Just as the sun was dipping away they rested again for half-an-hour, andwhen they went on it was dark. At last, when the night was all velvetblack and full of mysterious voices, they turned a corner, and suddenlythe punt poles could find no bottom, though they went on with theimpetus of the last stroke.
A greater silence suddenly enveloped them, they saw no reeds round them,the horizon seemed indefinite.
"This is Wilfrith Lake," said Cerdic, "and we are near home."
Now an unforeseen difficulty presented itself. The lake was far too deepto punt in, and they had no oars. For the next hour their progress wouldbe slow. Cerdic came to the rescue. With his knife he cut a foot of woodfrom each punt pole, with infinite labour; then he fashioned the toughwood into four stout pegs. Gurth drilled two holes in the gunwales ofthe punt, with the dagger which had been taken from Pierce. Then theyhammered the pegs into the holes and made rough rowlocks. There were noseats in the punt, and the thin poles did not catch the water very well,but by standing with their faces towards the bow they were able to makeslow but steady progress.
It was a little unnerving. They could not be sure of their directionexcept in a very general way. It was chilly on this great lake, and verylonely. Hyla, and Gurth also, began to think of the great black hand.Who knew what lay beneath those sombre waters?
Never before in their lives had they spent such an exciting day. Hardyas they were, inured to all the chances and changes of a rough day, theybegan to be rather afraid, and their nerves throbbed uncomfortably.Indeed, it is little to be wondered at. They were men and not machinesof steel. Once a great moth, which had strayed far out over the waters,flapped into Hyla's face with an unpleasant warmness and beating ofwings. He gave a little involuntary cry of alarm, which was echoed witha quick gasp from the other two.
"What is that?" said Cerdic.
"Only a buterfleoge," Hyla answered him. "For the moment I was fearful,but it was nothing, and as light as a leaf on a linden tree."
The other two crossed themselves without answering, and strained theireyes out into the dark.
"Hist!" said Gurth suddenly. "Listen! Cannot you hear anything? Wailingvoices like spirits in pain!" They shipped the poles and bent out overthe boat listening intently.
Something strange was occurring some half a mile away, judging from thesound. A long musical wail came over the water at regular intervals, andit was answered by the sound of many voices.
As they watched and listened in terror, they saw a tiny speck of lighton a level with the water, which appeared to be moving towards them. Thevoices grew louder, and then with a gasp of relief the fugitives heardthe tones of men singing.
"They are the fathers from Icomb," said Hyla; "they are looking for us,and have come out in their boats."
In the still night a deep voice chanted a verse of the sixty-ninthpsalm. The sonorous words of comfort rolled towards them:
"_Deus in adjutiorum meum intende: Domine, ad adjuvandum me festina._"
Then came the antiphon in a great volume of sound: "_Confundantur etrevereantur: qui quaerunt animam meam._"
The single voice complained out into the night: "_Avertantur retorsum,et erubescant; qui volunt mihi mala._"
The many voices replied in thunderous appeal: "_Avertantur statimerubescentur: qui dicunt mihi, euge, euge!_"
Then the cantor sang with singular and penetrating sweetness:"_Exsultent et laetantur in te omnes qui quaerunt te: et dicant semper,magnificetur Dominus, qui diligunt salutare tuum._"
And the poor monks answered him of their estate: "_Ego vero egenus etpauper sum. Deus adjuva me!_"
The boat of the fathers was now quite close to the serfs. The lantern inthe bows sent out long wavering streaks of light into the dark, and themany voices were full, and clear, and strong.
"Ahoy! ahoy!" shouted Cerdic in tremulous salutation.
The singing stopped suddenly, save for the cantor, who quavered on for aword or two of the _Gloria_. "What are you?" came over the water.
"Hyla of Hilgay, with Cerdic and Gurth."
There was a full-voiced shout of welcome, and the great boat camealongside with a swirl of oars.
The lantern showed many dark figures, some of them wearing the tonsure,and rows of pale faces gazed at the three serfs with eager interest.
A tall man in the bows of the boat, with a thin, sharp face peered atthem. "We expected you," he said simply, "and we prayed that you mightcome, Benedicite! What news bring you? What is done? Christ be with you!Have you struck the tyrant and avenged the blood of the saints whom heslew?"
"Father," said Hyla, "I did kill the divell, sure enough. With twoarrows--'One for Frija,' I said, and 'this for Elgifu.' I have bloodguilt upon me."
The man in the bows lifted his right hand and stretched out two fingersand a thumb. They saw he was a priest. Then he said the _Confiteor_:
"_Misereatur tui omnipot
ens Deus, et dimissis peccatis tuis, perducat tead vitam aeternam._"
And every man in the boat answered "Amen."
Then the priest changed his tone, and became brisk and business-like.
"You have lost your oars, fools," he said. "Or, perhaps, you broughtnone. Should'st have remembered the lake. Take a stern rope and we'lltow ye home like knights. Now then, brethren, ye have heard the news,God in His mercy hath sent power to these poor men and aided their arm,so that they have slain the burner of His priests and ravisher of poormaids. God has answered our prayers. Sing we to Him then a song ofthanksgiving. Sing up every man-jack of you, for God has wonderfullydealt with these poor men."
And then with a sudden crash of sound they began to sing the greatest ofall hymns, the _Te Deum_.
"_Te Deum Laudamus: te Dominum confitemur_," pulsed and rang through thenight in glad appeal. So fervent and joyous was the song, the monks sangit so merrily, and withal it was to such a good and jocund tune, thatHyla was overcome entirely. He knelt in the swiftly-moving punt sobbinglike a little child. Once he raised his face to heaven, and behold,there was a bright white moon silvering all the sky!
Very soon they came to the opposite shore of the lake, indeed, beforethe final "_In te Domine_."
The shore sloped gradually down to the lake's edge in a smooth sweep ofgrass sward which met the water without any break. A few yards up theslope high trees fringed a road which led to the Abbey on the hill-top.Icomb was, in fact, a low island about half a mile square. Its highestpoint was hardly out of the fen mists. Round about in the county, theplace was always spoken of as an Abbey, though it was, as a matter offact, no more than a Priory, and of no great importance at that.
Icomb was a new offshoot from Saint Bernard's famous Abbey of Clairvaux.Very little was as yet known of the Cistercians, and the monks of Icombwere regarded as mysterious and not altogether desirable people by thegreat religious houses at Ely and Medhampstede.
It was part of the Cistercian rule that the founders of an abbey shouldchoose some lonely, dismal place for their home. The idea was notentirely that of the eremite, for the Cistercians were improvers aswell as colonists.
Icomb was the most lonely place in all the Eastern counties that themonks could have chosen for their retreat from the perils and unrests ofthis world. The low, tree-crowned island hill, surrounded by vastwaters, protected by savage swamps, hidden in the very heart of the fen,was ideal for their purpose.
In that time not even churches were safe from lawless bandits likeGeoffroi de la Bourne or Roger Bigot. Although men like these werebelted knights of noble family, and still kept up much of the ceremonialof their position, they were little more than robbers, and instancesabound of their sacrilege.
But as yet none of them had troubled Icomb. The place was veryinaccessible; it was excellently protected by Nature, the defences werevery strong, and the garrison a fine one.
The lay-brothers or _fratres conversi_ were lusty and used to arms. Manyof them had borne a pike in battle before entering into the peace of theChurch. Then there were a goodly number of serfs and fenmen employed onthe daily business of the Priory, who would all fight to the death if itwere attacked.
No better sanctuary could be found for fugitives. Richard Espec, theprior of Icomb, was always ready to extend the hand of welcome to theoppressed. The time was so black and evil, such a horrible cloud ofviolence hung over England, that he felt it his bounden duty to make hishouse a refuge.
The Priory, like all Cistercian monasteries, was surrounded by a strongwall for defence. The buildings, though large and well built, were of astudied plainness. No glorious tower rose into the sky, but littleornament relieved the bareness of the walls. By the rules of that orderonly one tower, a centralone, was permitted, and that, so it wasordained, must be very low. All unnecessary pinnacles and turrets wereabsolutely prohibited. In the chapel the triforium was omitted, and thewindows were of plain glass with no colour. The crosses on the altarswere of simple wood, and the candlesticks of beaten iron. Lewin wouldhave been absolutely disgusted with Icomb.
The buildings consisted of the chapel, a chapter-house adjoining,connected with the church by a sacristy and a cell, the refectory andmonks' dormitories, and the calefactorium, or day-room. Here the monksmet in the daytime to gossip and to grease their sandals. In winter itwas warmed by flues set in the pavement. The centre of the block ofbuildings was occupied by the cloisters and a grass plot.
The two boats were hauled up the slope, and the party went singing upthe hill in the moonlight. The dark trees which lined the road noddedand whispered at their passing, as the holy song went rolling away amongthe leaves. The three serfs felt wonderfully safe and happy. The darkdepths of the thicket had no suggestion of a lurking enemy, the moonshone full and white over the road, and above, the tall buildings of thePriory waited for them. The hand of God seemed leading them, and Hispresence was very near.
They came to the gateway and the priest beat upon it with hiswalking-stick. In a moment it swung open, and they heard the porter say"Deo gratias," thanking Heaven that it had afforded him the chance ofgiving hospitality. Then, according to use, he fell upon his knees witha loud "Benedicite."
The priest who had met them went at once in search of the prior. In aminute or two he returned, saying that the prior was praying in thechapel, but that he would see them in the sacristy when he rose.
They were shown into a low, vaulted room with oak chests all round, andlit by a horn lantern. A half-drawn curtain separated it from thechurch, and through a vista of pillars they could see the high altargleaming with lights, and a bowed figure on the steps before it. Therest of the great place was in deep shadow.
They sat down upon one of the chests and waited. A profound silenceenveloped them, the wonderful and holy silence of a great church atnight. A faint, sweet smell of spices pervaded the gloom.
Suddenly they realised that they were tired to death. All three leantback against the wall in motionless fatigue and let the silence stealinto their very blood. They ceased to think or conjecture, and let alltheir souls be filled with that great, fragrant peace.
At last they heard some one coughing in the church, waking shrillechoes, and in a moment the sound of approaching footsteps. RichardEspec came in at the door. He was a short, enormously fat man, with ashrewd, benevolent face. He wore a white scapular and a hooded cowl,and on his breast gleamed the gold cross of Wilfrith. He blessed them ashe entered, and they fell on their knees before him. He turned and drewthe curtain over the door, shutting out the view of the church, and thensitting down upon a chest, regarded them with a penetrating thoughkindly glance.
"Ye are tired, my men," he said. "I can see it in your faces. Sit downagain. Now I know from Harl, your friend, and Gruach, the wife of Hyla,what business you went out to do. Which of you is Hyla?"
"I am Hyla, father."
"Well?"
"Father," said poor Hyla, trembling exceedingly, "I have killed LordGeoffroi."
The prior gave a slight start, and said nothing for a minute or two. Atlast he spoke.
"I may be wrong, Hyla, but I wist not. I do tell you here that I believeour Heavenly Father has guided your arm, and that you were appointed aninstrument of His hand. Therefore, to-morrow you shall confess to one ofthe brethren and receive absolution for your act, if indeed you need it.And you shall be with your friends, servants to the monastery, welltreated. Outside the walls live many of our fishermen and farm hands,and you and your wife and daughters shall be given a hut there. And Icharge you three that you live well and wisely with us. Remember, yecome from Satan his camp, and from among evil men, and that we were notas they. But I well think you will be good and live for Christ. Not infear of God's anger, but in pleasure and joy at His love and kindly_regime_, so that at last ye may join the faithful who have scand toheaven before you. I will pray for you, my sons, very often. Now I willcall Brother Eoppa, our hospitaller, and he will give you food and anipperkin of wine. But before you go to your r
est I ask you to pray withme."
He knelt down, panting a little with the exertion, and said the Lord'sPrayer in Latin. Then he opened a door which led into the cloisters.Outside the door the light of the sacristy lantern showed a thin sheetof copper hanging from an iron bracket. The prior struck this with hisclenched fist, and a brother came running in answer. He committed theserfs to him with a kind smile, and then went back into the great,silent church.
The four went down the North Walk together, and turned into the westerncloister. A door leading out of this led them into the hospitium, wherethe lay-brother, who had charge of guests, presently joined them.
"Hungry?" said he, "I think well you must be that. Brother Maurice isbroiling fish for ye, and that is a dish that Saint Peter himself loved.It would be waiting now, but that kitchen fire was very low. Here iswine, a nipperkin for each of you."
Presently they heard footsteps echoing in the cloister.
"I can smell your fish in the slype," said the hospitaller. "It's here.Fall to, and bless God who gives ye a fat meal."
He left them alone to eat, meeting another lay-brother in the cloisterand going with him into the kitchen.
"Dull fellows, I call them," said he.
"Yes. They do not look very sensefull."
"Poor men, they have been evilly used, no doubt. They have rid the worldof as bloody a devil as ever cumbered it. I mind well what he did to thehedge priest in Hilgay fen," and they fell talking of Geoffroi and hisiniquities with bated breath.
Hyla, Cerdic, and Gurth made a great meal.
"It's wonderful well cooked," said Gurth.
"And good corn-bread," said Cerdic.
"Never did I drink such wine before," said Hyla, and without furtherwords, they fell asleep upon three straw mattresses placed for themagainst the wall. The tolling of the bell in the centralone, calling themonks to the night-offices, did not disturb them. Nor were they assailedby any dreams. "Nature's dear nurse," tended them well at the close ofthat eventful night.
