Hodd

by Adam Thorpe

Later that evening he told me, having partaken of many a full goblet of wine, that he formerly played to the king and to the nobles of the kingdom, but that scandal had cast him forth from such wealth and elegance, to this pitiful state, wherein he was to be found, stirring vulgar laughter with lewdness, for that was what men and women preferred. ‘No more can I return to my former position,’ he confessed, ‘than tares and thistles and weeds might grow back again to corn. Yet beware, good minstrel youth, for corn can swiftly decline to tares and thistles and weeds, yet not the other way round.’

  I told him (well intoxicated myself) that I was a thistle of the sorriest sort; but he denied this fiercely, weeping and clasping me on the table-bench, and saying that on the contrary I was a golden sheaf of corn, a reminder of what he had once been: a celestial musician, a veritable darling [deliciae] of the highest in the land.

  Not sobered after this encounter, but prideful the more, I thought to end my course towards the hermitage, thinking again of the golden pastures of the royal court, and its worthy ladies furred with ermine, red-lipped, combing my ripe ears [spicas]384 with their tender fingers.

  Happily the talk in the morning was of a robbery on the road I had earlier taken, and fresh blood upon the wayside, that made me fearful of turning south to perchance fall into Hode’s clutches. Watching the hounds quarrel over the platters385 dropped from yesterday’s groaning table, I saw how such delights are fleeting, and love of them but feigning devotions.

  Bidding goodbye to master Alan de Aulege in his bed, where he was confined with a grievous discomfiture of the stomach (for the wine was more crabapple juice than Rhenish), I continued northwards, each step bringing me closer to my salvation. And so eager was I for this, that I went barefoot like a pilgrim, cutting my feet on the sharp flint-stones: which was no hurt at all compared to the hurt of the truly zealous, for I have seen (with mine own eyes) crippled children crawling on their ribs through the dust for many a mile, to be cured by the holy relic of this or that saint! And there are lepers pained with grievous sores, snorting rather than speaking, who labour up flinty hillsides in the foullest garments and with a ravening hunger, to reach certain chapels and saintly sites, in fitting penance for their parents’ sins.

  A few miles from the village wherein God and Fortune386 decreed I should be born and reared to the age of nine or ten (at which whelpish age I tore myself away like a limb from its body), I first saw familiar sights in the land roundabouts, and felt afraid. I had fled as a thief and made myself outcast; the common folk would know me, and raise the hue and cry, and I would hang, or suffer torment in the stocks or the dungeon.

  Though time doth not linger, six winters is not sufficient for memory to pass away like a shadow. I should have gone disguised, I thought; yet then I reflected that my disguise was the mask of years, for I had so much changed from boyhood, that e’en neighbours would not recognise me.

  Still, I was fearful to pass by way of the village, and so I took a more difficult path by a thick wood, untended since the time of King Stephne, that lay to the west of the cliffs; I heard the far sough of the sea within its tangled boughs, yet could not draw nearer the coast easily, for there was scarce a path through the briars and greve of fallen branches – being a wood that in former days the common folk had always avoided, as it held within it pits of immemorial antiquity, called wolfpittes.

  Glad I am, that I had not more courage to avoid it, though it was darker still on a day burdened by grey clouds! For soon I came to a small clearing, wherein was the aforesaid pit, that was in truth a great trench softened by time. And part of it being covered over with branches, grass and suchlike, to form a thatch much as a bird weaves its nest, I thought it an animal trap. Lo, to my amazement and great fright, out of it crept a man of most filthy appearance, in naught but nakedness, though at first I thought he wore a green kirtle of silk: for every part of his naked skin was of that hue, tinted e’en to the finger-tips.387

  I would have fled, but that no green men are said to be dangerous – only red ones (sent in this fiery hue by the Devil), of a deeper red than heavenly cherubim, and hideous: the former are born in a Christian land where no sun riseth but only twilight, because this land is in the contrarious part of the world to our known, and separated from it by a great stream, yet taketh what is left of our light. And it happens that from this land under the earth, that the more learned name Antipodas, a man or woman may sometimes fall into our own world by passages in their fields, much like rabbit-holes. And bells ring there continually, as Petrus Comestor describes in his history of the world.388

  Therefore I did not flee, but only took out the knife from my belt. The green man stood there trembling a little, and snuffling [vocum naribus protulit] like a pig, as certain idiots and simpletons do who are thus called ‘swine’s heads’ by those lacking Christian compassion. He had a smooth skin unblemished by hair, like a woman’s, yet so dark and filthy was he about the mouth, that leaves and branches did seem to be spewing forth from the lips, as in [the carvings of ] our churches; this filth being the juice from summer berries – as such wild fruits, with nuts and certain leaves, are all that the green people consume. The hair on his head was not green, but brown, and fell to his shoulders in a matted foulness. He was no bigger than myself, yet of broad shoulders and sturdy limbs, and seemed afraid of me, putting his hand to his face as though I were stinking.

  I took a step forward, eager to converse with such a being, and ask him questions of the Antipodas: for my long sojourn in the outlaw’s lair had made me bold with such phenomena, as many were the times I would perceive bearded faces and suchlike in the underwood. He opened his mouth, that was twinkling with juices, and gave forth such a howl of distress that I retreated; thereupon he shivered and trembled, clutching himself, and swept up the moist leaves and moss of the floor and rubbed his smooth body with them, leaving it greener. This no doubt being his way of protection (whether efficacious or no), he grinned and seemed defiant.

  Thereupon he crouched down and performed his offices in front of me, as oft do half-crazy vagabonds or men taken by the delectation of over mickle drinking, who lose the stableness of virtuous shame e’en in the churchyard.389 Not cleansing himself of his defilement, but standing and laughing at me in my puzzlement, he looked about him the while with a darting movement of the head, and I saw it was to profit of the merry sweetness of the birds, that were many in that wild wood. Truly he was a Christian example of innocence, so unblemished that e’en the horrible necessities of our earthly existence troubled him not with shame. And so pure was he, that the flies coming to his dung were few in number, and small and slender in shape: for so also were his tordes390 formed, more like a badger’s than a man’s.

  Of a sudden he approached me and stood close by me, not touching but only making noises to himself, in a manner of grunting, and seeing his mouth a-drivel, I wondered if he was famished. I felt not afraid, but more wondering in this wise, that such a being could stand close to a stranger, his superior, and not cast glances upon him, but only upon the ground thereabouts. Now and again he chuckled, as if to a merry jest, and sighed sweetly with satisfaction. Though the air was not hot, he seemed to feel no cold in his nakedness. Some will claim he was mad or a simpleton, as many men and women are, both in vagabondage and in beggary; but I say to them that he was of a most perfect sweetness of innocence, as of the first Adam, while the wood-dweller Hode was full of the most grievous errors, as of Adam’s son Cain, and e’en much worse.

  Putting my hand out to touch him, I erred in my impatience, that was a thing of the fallen world: he darted away, and vanished into the trees, leaping over briars almost like a deer. I tarried awhile, filled with a virtuous humility that came not from me, but from the green man; then (eager to press on), I advanced to the edge of the wood, that I reached in another hour, feeling most pilgrim-like with my chafed feet and empty stomach. For to my mind the green folk are better Christians than we be, and to meet them is to be blessed.

  A
nd there before me, yet still a mile away over bleakness, was the majesty of the one Ocean, striking the foot of our kingdom not three or four miles southward of the hermit’s dwelling. The day being grey and misty, though not cold (for it was still summertime), I felt the air grieving for all that I had lost, and it was with heavy heart that I scrambled down the rocks onto the beach, to turn my face towards the north and trudge slowly nearer along the wet marge; not expecting to see my first and most holiest master alive, but only his grave, yet I did seek to find words of grace and greeting and contrition.

  My heart was in no great ease, with the harp heavier and heavier on my back, its gut making a ringing sound within the leather – as though hating that I must make an offering of it, to be moistered away by the loud sea air till it crumble to naught, and with it my appalling mortal sin.

  5

  As I hove closer, my heart laboured, and my lungs were thick like that of a swine’s. I prayed aloud, shedding my heresy as easily as it was donned – for that is the way of youth. It is ever pliant and fickle. When the sweep of familiar cliff came into view, it was as if I had never been there but in a dream. All seemed smaller, for I was truly half the size when I had left. Here a rock that was a vast boulder bigger than a whale in memory, was now shrunk to a barrel; there a hole in the cliff that had been greater than a dragon’s maw, was like the opening of a cellar – for e’en the opening of a cellar had been huger to me, at nine or ten. I saw from afar the black shape of the hermitage that was really a cavernous hole in the rock, but at that distance was as a small blot of coal-tar, and I stopped in nervousness.

  All the while the sea made piteous lamentations beside me, though it was not rough, for the buffeting wind had not e’en the power to shatter the grey vapours of the mist that shielded the far edge of the illimitable Ocean (where its waters drop many fathoms before rising upward in a curve to make the upper sky). Yet I took my courage in my hands and revived it, as it were, by speaking unto it soft words. I remembered what my very first and holiest master said was the best thing and the worst among men. He asked me this one day, and I could not say, for sin is never good, and neither is fasting ever bad except for the evil breath it causeth, and so I could not answer; and he laughed and said, ‘Word is best and worst.’

  Now I knew that in giving me word – that is, the skill and learning to form letters into words, and thereby discover all the true knowledge that lies in books, even unto names and measurements and things mysterious – he had given me both best and worst. For it planted ambition in me, and a taste for the world beyond our humble place, that envenoms the innocent soul, and makes it forget its true and righteous home. Yet word is also an indubitable miracle, given by God to Adam that he might name the creatures – though that only in his mouth, for Adam could not write but only speak words (which is also a danger, for a man can lie and blaspheme with his tongue alone).

  With these thoughts seething in my brain, I advanced towards the cave, more than ever determined to lay the harp as an offering upon the altar of this holy place (imagining the grave itself to be there), and to pray and fast for such time as I felt my sins washed sufficiently from me. Afterwards, I planned to set out for the abbey [at Whitby], before I was too weak with hunger, and offer myself as a brother: thus had I conceived my future over the last weeks, amidst the brawl and din of lowly places.

  Astonied was I, therefore, to find no trace of holy cross or round altar stones, nor even the planks we used as our table and bench, nor the ash of the fire at the cave’s mouth, but only stinking sea-wrack and many rocks tumbled before it, as if no man had ever trod in that place. It seemed that a great storm or e’en a whale had vomited the rocks against the cave, that it was well nigh stopped up.

  Some of these rocks being three feet high, the cave-mouth was well nigh blocked,391 [and] I had to climb these rocks, and press myself through the narrow mouth, pushing my harp before me. Scrambling over them to enter the blackness of the cave by its narrow mouth [hiatus in the MS ] … wherein I stood, blinking and peering, for there was little light in the hermitage on that gloomy day.

  All was moist and dank within, and the wind made a moaning sound as it doth in a shell, though the air seemed not to move. My unshod feet, cut by the journey and pained in their wounds by the saltiness from the beach, felt a strange vegetation, here cool and slippery and there encrusted – yet the pain was gladsome to me. I had no taper, and there being but stale and foul air, the dimness of forms perceived could not stretch their lines to me easily through the thickness, and I was almost as if blind.

  Hard it was to imagine those former scenes of learning and labouring at words, and all that passed between us – including moments of merriment – in that dark and dank chamber, wherein formerly all was wisdom and virtue visible, lit by a holy grace! Then my eyen received more lines, and the blackness thinned to greyness, as it doth in such places; and I perceived at my bare feet a hunk of crust that was like manna from heaven, for I was exceeding hungry. And picking up the bread, I was amazed to find it soft, as though placed there that morning or mayhap the day before. Taking a bite, I saw it was as sustaining as the Host; for verily I had not eaten in two days, since the inn wherein Alan de [A]uleige had called me a miracle.

  Looking about me then, I saw many more morsels of bread, most rotting quite away and others hard as wood, and e’en a few cooked fish entire. I came to realise that the food was many inches deep, like rushes that are never replaced, but only renewed, and that the floor of the cave was hid quite by this mixen. Naturally, there was a rustling within it of rats or crabs or other vermin. So horribly famished was I, that I seized another hunk of bread, its staleness made supple by the moistness, and chewed it there and then.392

  Of a sudden, hearing voices over the wind and sea-surge outside, as if approaching over the beach, I crouched down that the scarce light not pick me out. And looking up at the cave’s opening, that was shaped like a shear in cloth, I saw two faces, belonging to a couple of most ugly and boil-marked appearance, set brightly there in comparison with my darkness. ‘Lo, master,’ the man and woman called, in the vulgarest of tongues, ‘in the presence of thee we recall our sins and give thee thy daily bread, that we might go to rest and joy for evermore, amen.’

  With these ridiculous words, said with little feeling but in a serf’s uncouth coarseness, the faces disappeared – yet not before something was thrown in, that was another hunk of bread to add to the hundreds staled or rotted underfoot. Imagine then my horror, when in the single shaft of dim light that penetrated that abode, a claw did seem to stretch out into it, and grope about beside my foot, until it seized my ankle so fiercely that I could not release it!

  I was so struck by terror that I could not move, perceiving only the claw of a monster or a fiend, human-like but with nails as long as the bony fingers and twisted about in their length most horribly, and belonging to a pale shape I could not discern but imagined too foul for human eyes. Pulling my leg away, I brought the claw with me, and also its owner; for the shape was dragged thus to the foot of the rocks, gripping me with an unhuman strength as I tried to climb.

  It was indeed not a fiend or monster, but a poor man ready to expire, quite naked but for a stinking rag about his loins, and more bone than flesh, as one sees oft among beggars or lepers or at the gates of towns: those near-corpses scarcely decent in their rags, whose mouths are unflinching portals for flies and other worms, and that none know what to do with until they are truly dead.

  So bony was he, that his hips stuck out like plough-shares, and even in that dimness I might have counted every rib, for his stomach was a hollow and his skin mere beaten leather stretched upon the frame: yet it was not a leper’s, for in leprosy the hide be all over wet and fatty. I perceived a strangeness about his feet, and peering closer, I saw that his ankles and feet were swollen out of all measure, as though they belonged to an ogre, and had a shiningness.

  As for his face, as it stared upon me, it was more eyen than nose or m
outh, for his vital spirits in withdrawing had remained in each eye as tides are left in pools where depressions in the rock or sand permit it; and so it was with him.

  ‘Master,’ I said, for I knew immediately it was the hermit. He was as hairless as formerly, though not from shaving but from the sparseness and bleachness of the long hairs remaining about his mouth and over his ears, so that it seemed he had none at all, like certain old men.

  I bent down to touch him, for my revulsion had gone, and had been replaced by a great love and sorrow; and thus I wept upon his form, that was cold like a corpse’s, its wasted brawn tettered all over with sores and encrustations that were not the botches and whelks of leprosy – though e’en then I would have embraced him, as St Hugh of Lincoln kissed many a leper for the good of his own spirit!393

  Spilling my salt tears upon his shrunken body caused no pain to him, for he was already salted like a herring. I marvelled that he had come to such a state, and that death had not taken him, for when I lifted him back upon the bare ship-boards that served as his pallet, he was light as thistledown. ‘Master,’ I quoth many times, ‘I have returned to care for thee – I, your first pupil!’ And to my amazement, his ravelled lips moved among their sores, and he whispered, ‘Edwyne,’ with a clutching of my neck.

  ‘Nay,’ I answered, saying my name, with a great soreness in my heart: not conceiving how he might not recognise me, bleared as he was with dying in the dim light of the hermitage. And on that instant of saying my true name, I felt my neck released, and he turned his face to the wall of rock at his side.

  What more should I have sought, or expected? As a hound who bites a child, and is called back by his master, does not trot to him gaily but slinks thereto, knowing he doth deserve rebuke, so should I have done: yet I expected forgiveness and redemption, for I was stupider than a hound.

  I carried the harp to his side, and said, ‘Lo, my spiritual master, I have brought back what I stole from thee in my pitiable ignorance;’ though this was an untruth, for the harp was Henrie’s. And removing it from its leather [case], I tuned the instrument and began to play, with a softness that the cave rendered louder, for its roof was high as naves be high for the better rendering of voice to the Lord Our God. The hermit’s face turned back towards me, and his large eyen grew rounder, drawing in all the lines of light possible: and he said something, but very hoarsely, and his throat-ball moved up and down as big as an apple.