Gathering of Brother Hilarius Part 14

Then he turned to the novices and stretched out his hands to where they stood amazed, and it may be ashamed--not after this manner was Brother Adam wont to rebuke them.

"And ye, who are, as it were, the babes of our Order, give heed to your ways, neither bring unwilling hands to this service. Better far go forth, yea, even to death, than mock the Lord with froward feet and a heart that is full of vanity. Remember the sacrifice which Cain offered and the Lord rejected, for he gainsayed the voice of the Lord and disobeyed His Commandment; wherefore the wrath of G.o.d fell upon him.

"I who speak now, speak in love; give ear to my words, and let fear befriend you; for the coming of the Lord is as a thief in the night, and lo! stripes bitter and many await that servant whom the Master finds sleeping."

Then the Prior, having made an end of speaking, raised his hand to bless, and went forth in silence; and no man stirred in his place, for they knew that the Lord had spoken and were afraid.

CHAPTER VI--THE HUNGER OF d.i.c.kON THE WOODMAN

June was at an end, and men cried aloud for rain. The hedges were white, the fields scorched and brown; the leaves fell from the trees as at autumn's touch; the fruits scarce formed hung wry and twisted on the bough; the heavens burnt pitiless, without a cloud.

d.i.c.kon, the woodman, sat by the wayside gnawing a crust and a sc.r.a.p of mouldy bacon. There was no sound but the howl of a dog from some neighbouring farmstead, and he sat in sullen mood, his bill- hook beside him, brooding over his wrongs; for the world had gone contrary with him.

His wife was dead; she had died in childbed a month gone, leaving six hungry, naked brats on his shoulders; and now a worse thing had befallen him; his gold was gone--his gold to which he had no right, for 'twas blood-money, the food of his children, ay, and something beside; but d.i.c.kon loved that gold piece above all the world--above Heaven and his own soul--and it was gone.

A neighbour had surely done it; marked the hiding-place which he had deemed so safe, and made off with the prize; and i' faith 'twas easy carrying. There was but one piece, and d.i.c.kon minded how he had changed his petty h.o.a.rd to gold scarce a month back at the fair. Maybe it was Thomas the charcoal burner had served him this ill turn; or William Crookleg, the miller's man; he was a sly, prying fellow, and there had been ill blood between them.

He was fain to seek the Monastery that lay the other side the forest, and crave justice of the Prior, but that the Prior might say 'twas ill-got gain and well rid of.

d.i.c.kon rose to his feet and shambled homewards; he was ragged, ill- fed, unkempt. The day's work was done, and on the village green he found men and women, for the most part as ill-clad as himself, standing about in groups gossiping. The innkeeper lounged at the ale-house door, thin and peaked as his fellows; there was no good living for any man in those parts, by reason of the over-lord who sore oppressed them.

A little man, keen-eyed and restless, holding a lean and sorry horse by the bridle, was talking eagerly.

"Nay, 'tis true eno', and three crows saw I this very day on the churchyard wall--it bodes ill to some of us."

"Well, well," said the innkeeper, "have it thine own way. Methinks the ill hath outrun the omen, for there will be naught for man or beast shortly--but fine pickings for thy three crows."

The little man scowled at him: d.i.c.kon came up.

"What's to do?" he said curtly.

"Nay," said mine host, "Robin will have it that some further evil is upon us--tho' methinks we have got our fill and to spare with this drought--ay, and 'twas at thy house, d.i.c.kon, he saw the corpse-light."

"Better a corpse-light than six open mouths, and naught to fill them," said d.i.c.kon surlily. "Whither away, Robin? 'Tis not far this beast will travel."

"Right thou art, but my master will turn an honest penny with the carca.s.s," answered the little man; "give me my reckoning, friend John. I must needs haste if I would see the Forester's ere nightfall."

He pulled out a few small coins and a gold piece. When d.i.c.kon saw it his eyes gleamed. Robin paid the reckoning and put the piece in his cheek.

"Hard-earned money--'tis blood out of a stone to draw wages from my master. Better it should light in my belly than in a rogue's pocket. 'Tis as well for me that John o' th' Swift-foot swings at the cross-roads. G.o.dden, my masters!" And leading his weary beast, he took the road that skirted the forest.

The moon was at full, and he had yet a good stretch of lonely way before him, when the horse stumbled and fell and would not rise.

"A murrain on the beast!" muttered Robin angrily, tugging in vain at the creature on whom death had taken pity. "I must e'en leave him by the wayside and tell Richard what hath befallen."

He stooped to loose the halter, and as he bent to his task a man slipped from the shadow of the hedge into the quiet moonlight.

There was a thud, a dull cry, and Robin fell p.r.o.ne across the horse's neck--a pace beyond him in the moonlight shone the gleam of gold.

Next day d.i.c.kon's child died, ay, and the other five followed with scant time between the buryings. Another had fathered them and filled the gaping mouths; but men shuddered at his care, for it was the Black Death that they had deemed far from them.

Pale and woebegone they cl.u.s.tered on the green. News had come of Robin--he was dead when they found him--but no man gave heed.

Death was in the air, death held them safe in walls they might not scale. The heavens were bra.s.s, food failed for man and beast, G.o.d and man alike had forsaken them. The forest lay one side, the river, now but a shallow sluggish stream, lay the other; 'twas a cleft stick and the springe tightened.

No evil had as yet befallen d.i.c.kon. He stood with the rest and murmured, cursing. All at once he made for the ale-house.

"Fools that we are to stand like helpless brats when there is liquor enough and to spare in yon cellars. He who is minded to go dry throat to Heaven had best make haste; for me I will e'en swill a bucket to the devil's health, and so to h.e.l.l."

Half-a-dozen men followed him, pushing aside mine host who strove to bar the door. Some of the women fell on their knees and clamoured in half delirious prayer; the rest slunk dismayed to their pestilent homes.

CHAPTER VII--THE VISION OF THE EVENING AND THE MORNING

Meanwhile, news came to the Monastery of the ill case of the village, for it lay scarce a league away across the forest; but the pine-trees stood as guardian angels in between.

The Prior summoned the whole Convent, according to the ruling of Blessed Benedict when the matter is a grave one, and told the tidings.

Then he went on to give reason for their a.s.sembling.

"My Brethren, it is in my heart that we dare not leave these poor, stricken sheep to die alone without shepherding; moreover, in their fear and desolation, they may flee to other villages, and so the terror and pest spread ever further. And I deem that, inasmuch as Charity is greater than Faith or Hope, so it is greater than obedience also. Wherefore I purpose to set aside the Rule of our Order in the letter that I may hold to it in the spirit, and go forth to serve these perishing brethren; and I will take with me whosoever hears the call of G.o.d in this visitation."

When he had made an end, there was silence in the Chapter. Break cloister, the Prior himself urging them thereto? The Convent might scarce credit its ears.

Prior Hilarius watched his children with a tender smile on his white face, and a prayer on his lips that love might have its triumph.

Five monks stood up, among them the Sub-Prior, and seven novices sprang also to their feet.

"Nay, Brother Walter," said Hilarius, turning to the Sub-Prior, "this flock must have its shepherd also; thy place is here. But I will take with me Brother Simon and Brother Leo, who will doubtless suffice at first for the ministry, and--" smiling at the novices-- "all these dear lads to tend the sick and bury the dead."

The Sub-Prior ventured on a remonstrance.

"Good Father, it is not fitting that thou should'st go on such an errand; send me in thy stead, for my life is a small thing as compared with thine. Moreover these novices, 'tis but the other day the Master gave them as lazy and ill-conditioned, and--"

The Prior held up his hand.

"Dear Brother, I thank thee for thy love and care for me; but my call has come. As for these--" he stretched out his hand towards the waiting novices--"maybe they are in the wrong school, and the Lord hath even opened the door that they may serve Him, perchance die for Him, elsewhere. And shall I count myself wiser than Prior Stephen, who set me without the gate to learn my lesson? Let us go in peace, my children, for we are about the Lord's business."

Very early next day, having eaten of Heavenly manna, the little band embraced their brethren and set out, laden with food and wine and herbs from the farmery; and the Prior appointed a place to which the Convent should send daily all things needed.

The shade of the forest was very welcome in the hot, breathless sunshine, and the scent of the pine-needles, odorous, pungent, rose at each footfall from the silent path. The Brethren chanted the Gradual Psalms as they paced two and two through the sun-lit aisles, full of the Prior's memories; and he looked up again to see Our Lady's robe across the tree-tops. Then all at once the Psalm broke, and Brother Simon, who was leading, stayed suddenly.