The Cloister and the Hearth: A Tale of the Middle Ages

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  "IN prison, sir; good lack, for what misdeed?"

  "Well, she is a witness, and may be a necessary one."

  "Why, Messire Bailiff," put in Denys, "you lay not all your witnesses bythe heels I trow."

  The alderman, pleased at being called bailiff, became communicative. "Ina case of blood we detain all testimony that is like to give us legbail, and so defeat Justice, and that is why we still keep thewomenfolk. For a man at odd times bides a week in one mind, but a woman,if she do her duty to the realm o' Friday, she shall undo it aforeSunday, or try. Could you see yon wench now, you should find her ablubbering at having betrayed five males to the gallows. Had they beenfemales, we might have trusted to a subpoena. For they despise oneanother. And there they show some sense. But now I think on't, therewere other reasons for laying this one by the heels. Hand me thosedepositions, young sir." And he put on his glasses. "Ay! she wasimplicated: she was one of the band."

  A loud disclaimer burst from Denys and Gerard at once.

  "No need to deave me," said the alderman. "Here 'tis in black and white.'Jean Hardy (that is one of the thieves), being questioned confessedthat,'--humph? Ay, here 'tis. 'And that the girl Manon was the decoy,and her sweetheart was Georges Vipont, one of the band; and hanged lastmonth: and that she had been deject ever since, and had openly blamedthe band for his death, saying, if they had not been rank cowards, hehad never been taken, and it is his opinion she did but betray them outof very spite, and--'"

  "His opinion," cried Gerard indignantly, "what signifies the opinion ofa cut-throat, burning to be revenged on her who has delivered him tojustice? And an you go to that what avails his testimony? Is a thiefnever a liar? Is he not aye a liar? and here a motive to lie? Revenge,why 'tis the strongest of all the passions. And oh, sir, what madness toquestion a detected felon and listen to him lying away an honestlife--as if he were a true man swearing in open day, with his true handon the Gospel laid!"

  "Young man," said the alderman, "restrain thy heat in presence ofauthority! I find by your tongue you are a stranger. Know then that inthis land we question all the world. We are not so weak as to hope toget at the truth by shutting either our left ear or our right."

  "And so you would listen to Satan belying the saints!"

  "Ta! ta! The law meddles but with men and women, and these cannot uttera story all lies, let them try ever so. Wherefore we shut not thebarn-door (as the saying is) against any man's grain. Only having takenit in we do winnow and sift it. And who told you I had swallowed thethief's story whole like fair water? Not so. I did but credit so muchon't as was borne out by better proof."

  "Better proof?" and Gerard looked blank. "Why who but the thieves wouldbreathe a word against her?"

  "Marry, herself."

  "Herself, sir? what did you question her too?"

  "I tell you we question all the world. Here is her deposition, can youread?--Read it yourself then."

  Gerard looked at Denys and read him

  MANON'S DEPOSITION

  "I am a native of Epinal. I left my native place two years ago because Iwas unfortunate: I could not like the man they bade me. So my fatherbeat me. I ran away from my father. I went to service. I left servicebecause the mistress was jealous of me. The reason they gave for turningme off was, because I was saucy. Last year I stood in the market-placeto be hired with other girls. The landlord of 'The Fair Star' hired me.I was eleven months with him. A young man courted me. I loved him. Ifound out that travellers came and never went away again. I told mylover. He bade me hold my peace. He threatened me. I found my lover wasone of a band of thieves. When travellers were to be robbed the landlordwent out and told the band to come. Then I wept and prayed for thetravellers' souls. I never told. A month ago my lover died.

  "The soldier put me in mind of my lover. He was bearded like him I hadlost. I cannot tell whether I should have interfered, if he had had nobeard. I am sorry I told now."

  The paper almost dropped from Gerard's hands. Now for the first time hesaw that Manon's life was in mortal danger. He knew the dogged law, andthe dogged men that executed it. He threw himself suddenly on his kneesat the alderman's feet. "Oh, sir! think of the difference between thosecruel men and this poor weak woman! Could you have the heart to send herto the same death with them; could you have the heart to condemn us tolook on and see her slaughtered, who, but that she risked her life forours, had not now been in jeopardy? Alas, sir! show me and my comradesome pity, if you have none for her, poor soul. Denys and I be true men,and you will rend our hearts if you kill that poor simple girl. What canwe do? What is left for us to do then but cut our throats at hergallow's foot?"

  The alderman was tough but mortal; the prayers and agitation of Gerardfirst astounded, then touched him. He showed it in a curious way. Hebecame peevish and fretful. "There get up, do," said he. "I doubtwhether anybody would say as many words for me. What ho, Daniel! gofetch the town clerk." And, on that functionary entering from anadjoining room, "Here is a foolish lad fretting about yon girl. Can westretch a point? say we admit her to bear witness, and question herfavorably."

  The town clerk was one of your "impossibility" men.

  "Nay, sir, we cannot do that: she was not concerned in this business.Had she been accessory, we might have offered her a pardon to bearwitness."

  Gerard burst in. "But she did better. Instead of being accessory, shestayed the crime; and she proffered herself as witness by running hitherwith the tale."

  "Tush, young man, 'tis a matter of law." The alderman and the clerk thenhad a long discussion, the one maintaining, the other denying, that shestood as fair in law, as if she had been accessory to the attempt on ourtravellers' lives. And this was lucky for Manon: for the alderman,irritated by the clerk reiterating that he could not do this and couldnot that, and could not do t'other, said "he would show him he _could_do anything he chose." And he had Manon out, and, upon the landlord ofthe "White Hart" being her bondsman, and Denys depositing five goldpieces with him, and the girl promising, not without some coaxing fromDenys, to attend as a witness, he liberated her, but eased hisconscience by telling her in his own terms his reason for this leniency.

  "The town had to buy a new rope for everybody hanged, and present it tothe bourreau, or else compound with him in money: and she was not in hisopinion worth this municipal expense; whereas decided characters likeher late confederates, were." And so Denys and Gerard carried her off,Gerard dancing round her for joy, Denys keeping up her heart by assuringher of the demise of a troublesome personage, and she weepinginauspiciously. However, on the road to the "White Hart" the publicfound her out, and having heard the whole story from the archers, whonaturally told it warmly in her favour, followed her hurrahing andencouraging her, till finding herself backed by numbers she plucked upheart. The landlord too saw at a glance that her presence in the innwould draw custom, and received her politely and assigned her an upperchamber: here she buried herself, and being alone rained tears again.

  Poor little mind, it was like a ripple, up and down, down and up, up anddown. Bidding the landlord be very kind to her, and keep her a prisonerwithout letting her feel it, the friends went out: and lo! as theystepped into the street they saw two processions coming towards themfrom opposite sides. One was a large one attended with noise and howlsand those indescribable cries, by which rude natures reveal at odd timesthat relationship to the beasts of the field and forest, which at othertimes we succeed in hiding. The other, very thinly attended by a fewnuns and friars, came slow and silent.

  The prisoners going to exposure in the market-place. The gathered bonesof the victims coming to the churchyard.

  And the two met in the narrow street nearly at the inn door, and couldnot pass each other for a long time, and the bier, that bore the relicsof mortality, got wedged against the cart that carried the men, who hadmade those bones what they were, and in a few hours must die for itthemselves. The mob had not the quick intelligence to be at once struckwith this stern meeting:
but at last a woman cried "Look at your work,ye dogs!" and the crowd took it like wildfire, and there was a horribleyell, and the culprits groaned and tried to hide their heads upon theirbosoms, but could not, their hands being tied. And there they stoodimages of pale, hollow-eyed despair, and oh how they looked on thebier, and envied those whom they had sent before them on the dark roadthey were going upon themselves! And the two men who were the cause ofboth processions, stood and looked gravely on, and even Manon, hearingthe disturbance, crept to the window, and, hiding her face, peepedtrembling through her fingers as women will.

  This strange meeting parted Denys and Gerard. The former yielded tocuriosity and revenge, the latter doffed his bonnet, and piouslyfollowed the poor remains of those whose fate had so nearly been hisown. For some time he was the one lay mourner: but when they had reachedthe suburbs, a long way from the greater attraction that was filling themarket-place, more than one artisan threw down his tools, and more thanone shopman left his shop, and touched with pity, or a sense of ourcommon humanity, and perhaps decided somewhat by the example of Gerard,followed the bones bare headed, and saw them deposited with the prayersof the Church in hallowed ground.

  After the funeral rites Gerard stepped respectfully up to the cure, andoffered to buy a mass for their souls.

  Gerard, son of Catherine, always looked at two sides of a penny: and hetried to purchase this mass a trifle under the usual terms, on accountof the pitiable circumstances. But the good cure gently but adroitlyparried his ingenuity, and blandly screwed him up to the market price.

  In the course of the business they discovered a similarity ofsentiments. Piety and worldly prudence are not very rare companions:still it is unusual to carry both so far as these two men did. Theircollision in the prayer market led to mutual esteem, as when knightencountered knight worthy of his steel. Moreover the good cure loved abit of gossip, and finding his customer was one of those who had foughtthe thieves at Domfront, would have him into his parlour and hear thewhole from his own lips. And his heart warmed to Gerard and he said,"God was good to thee. I thank him for't, with all my soul. Thou art agood lad." He added drily, "shouldst have told me this tale in thechurchyard. I doubt I had given thee the mass for love. However," saidhe (the thermometer suddenly falling) "'tis ill-luck to go back upon abargain. But I'll broach a bottle of my old Medoc for thee: and few bethe guests I would do that for." The cure went to his cupboard and,while he groped for the choice bottle, he muttered to himself, "Attheir old tricks again!"

  "Plait-il?" said Gerard.

  "I said nought. Ay, here 'tis."

  "Nay, your reverence. You surely spoke: you said 'At their old tricksagain!'"

  "Said I so in sooth?" and his reverence smiled. He then proceeded tobroach the wine, and filled a cup for each. Then he put a log of wood onthe fire, for stoves were none in Burgundy. "And so I said 'At their oldtricks!' did I? Come, sip the good wine, and, whilst it lasts, story forstory, I care not if I tell you a little tale."

  Gerard's eyes sparkled.

  "Thou lovest a story?"

  "As my life."

  "Nay, but raise not thine expectations too high, neither. 'Tis but afoolish trifle compared with thine adventures."

  THE CURE'S TALE

  "Once upon a time, then, in the kingdom of France, and in the Duchy ofBurgundy, and not a day's journey from the town, where now we sit asipping of old Medoc, there lived--a cure. I say he lived; but barely.The parish was small, the parishioners greedy; and never gave their curea doit more than he could compel. The nearer they brought him to adisembodied spirit by meagre diet, the holier should be his prayers intheir behalf. I know not if this was their creed, but their practicegave it colour.

  "At last he pickled a rod for them.

  "One day the richest farmer in the place had twins to baptize. The curewas had to the christening dinner as usual; but, ere he would baptizethe children, he demanded, not the christening fees only, but the burialfees. 'Saints defend us, parson,' cried the mother; 'talk not ofburying! I did never see children liker to live.' 'Nor I,' said thecure, 'the praise be to God. Natheless, they are sure to die; being sonsof Adam, as well as of thee, dame. But, die when they will, 'twill costthem nothing; the burial fees being paid and entered in this book.' 'Forall that, 'twill cost them something,' quoth the miller, the greatestwag in the place, and as big a knave as any; for which was the biggestGod knoweth, but no mortal man, not even the hangman. 'Miller, I tellthee nay', quo the cure. 'Parson, I tell you ay,' quo the miller.''Twill cost them their lives.' At which millstone conceit was a greatlaugh; and in the general mirth the fees were paid and the Christiansmade.

  "But when the next parishioner's child, and the next after, and all, hadto pay each his burial fee, or lose his place in heaven, discontent didsecretly rankle in the parish. Well, one fine day they met in secret,and sent a churchwarden with a complaint to the bishop, and athunderbolt fell on the poor cure. Came to him at dinner-time a summonsto the episcopal palace, to bring the parish books and answer certaincharges. Then the cure guessed where the shoe pinched. He left his foodon the board; for small his appetite now; and took the parish books andwent quaking.

  "The bishop entertained him with a frown, and exposed the plaint.'Monseigneur,' said the cure right humbly, 'doth the parish allege manythings against me, or this one only?' 'In sooth, but this one,' said thebishop; and softened a little. 'First, monseigneur, I acknowledge thefact.' ''Tis well,' quoth the bishop; 'that saves time and trouble. Nowto your excuse, if excuse there be.' 'Monseigneur, I have been cure ofthat parish seven years, and fifty children have I baptized, and buriednot five. At first I used to say, "Heaven be praised, the air of thisvillage is main healthy," but on searching the register book I found'twas always so, and on probing the matter, it came out that of thoseborn at Domfront, all, but here and there one, did go and get hanged atAix. But this was to defraud not their cure only, but the entire Churchof her dues: since "pendards" pay no funeral fees, being buried in air.Thereupon, knowing by sad experience their greed, and how they grudgethe Church every sou, I laid a trap to keep them from hanging: for,greed against greed, there be of them that will die in their beds liketrue men, ere the Church shall gain those funeral fees for nought.' Thenthe bishop laughed till the tears ran down, and questioned thechurchwarden, and he was fain to confess that too many of the parish didcome to that unlucky end at Aix. 'Then,' said the bishop, 'I do approvethe act, for myself and my successors; and so be it ever, till they mendtheir manners and die in their beds.' And the next day came theringleaders crest-fallen to the cure, and said, 'Parson, ye were evergood to us, barring this untoward matter: prithee let there be no illblood anent so trivial a thing.' And the cure said, 'My children, Iwere unworthy to be your pastor could I not forgive a wrong; go inpeace, and get me as many children as may be, that by the double feesthe cure you love may miss starvation.'

  "And the bishop often told the story, and it kept his memory of the curealive, and at last he shifted him to a decent parish, where he can offera glass of old Medoc to such as are worthy of it. Their name it is notlegion."

  A light broke in upon Gerard, his countenance showed it.

  "Ay!" said his host, "I am that cure: so now thou canst guess why I said'At their old tricks.' My life on't they have wheedled my successor intoremitting those funeral fees. You are well out of that parish. And so amI."

  The cure's little niece burst in, "Uncle, the weighing:--la! astranger!" And burst out.

  The cure rose directly, but would not part with Gerard.

  "Wet thy beard once more, and come with me."

  In the church porch they found the sexton with a huge pair of scales,and weights of all sizes. Several humble persons were standing by, andsoon a woman stepped forward with a sickly child and said, "Be it heavy,be it light, I vow, in rye meal of the best, whate'er this child shallweigh, and the same will duly pay to holy Church, an if he shall casthis trouble. Pray, good people, for this child, and for me his motherhither come in dole and care!"
br />   The child was weighed, and yelled as if the scale had been the font.

  "Courage! dame," cried Gerard. "This is a good sign. There is plenty oflife here to battle its trouble."

  "Now, blest be the tongue that tells me so," said the poor woman. Shehushed her ponderling against her bosom, and stood aloof watching,whilst another woman brought her child to scale.

  But presently a loud, dictatorial voice was heard. "Way there, make wayfor the seigneur!"

  The small folk parted on both sides like waves ploughed by a lordlygalley, and in marched in gorgeous attire, his cap adorned by a featherwith a topaz at its root, his jerkin richly furred, satin doublet, redhose, shoes like skates, diamond-hilted sword in velvet scabbard, andhawk on his wrist, "the lord of the manor." He flung himself into thescales as if he was lord of the zodiac as well as the manor; whereatthe hawk balanced and flapped; but stuck: then winked.

  While the sexton heaved in the great weights, the cure told Gerard: "Mylord had been sick unto death, and vowed his weight in bread and cheeseto the poor, the Church taking her tenth."

  "Permit me, my lord; if your lordship continues to press with yourlordship's staff on the other scale, you will disturb the balance."

  His lordship grinned and removed his staff, and leaned on it. The curepolitely but firmly objected to that too.

  "Mille diables! what am I to do with it, then?" cried the other.

  "Deign to hold it out so, my lord, wide of both scales."

  When my lord did this, and so fell into the trap he had laid for holyChurch, the good cure whispered to Gerard, "Cretensis incidit inCretensem!" which I take to mean, "Diamond cut diamond." He then saidwith an obsequious air, "If that your lordship grudges Heaven fullweight, you might set the hawk on your lacquey, and so save a pound."

  "Gramercy for thy rede, cure," cried the great man, reproachfully."Shall I for one sorry pound grudge my poor fowl the benefit of holyChurch? I'd as lieve the devil should have me and all my house as her,any day i' the year."

  "Sweet is affection," whispered the cure.

  "Between a bird and a brute," whispered Gerard.

  "Tush!" and the cure looked terrified.

  The seigneur's weight was booked, and Heaven I trust and believe did notweigh his gratitude in the balance of the sanctuary.

  For my unlearned reader is not to suppose there was anything the leasteccentric in the man, or his gratitude to the Giver of health and allgood gifts. Men look forward to death, and back upon past sickness, withdifferent eyes. Item, when men drive a bargain, they strive to get thesunny side of it; it matters not one straw whether it is with man orHeaven they are bargaining. In this respect we are the same now, atbottom, as we were four hundred years ago: only in those days we did ita grain or two more naively, and that naivete shone out more palpably,because, in that rude age, body prevailing over mind, all sentimentstook material forms. Man repented with scourges, prayed by bead, bribedthe saints with wax tapers, put fish into the body to sanctify the soul,sojourned in cold water for empire over the emotions, and thanked Godfor returning health in 1 cwt. 2 stone 7 lb. 3 oz. 1 dwt. of bread andcheese.

  Whilst I have been preaching, who preach so rarely and so ill, the goodcure has been soliciting the lord of the manor to step into the church,and give order what shall be done with his great-great-grandfather.

  "Ods bodikins! what, have you dug him up?"

  "Nay, my lord, he never was buried."

  "What, the old dict was true after all?"

  "So true that the workmen this very day found a skeleton erect in thepillar they are repairing. I had sent to my lord at once, but I knew hewould be here."

  "It is he! 'Tis he!" said his descendant, quickening his pace. "Let usgo see the old boy. This youth is a stranger I think."

  Gerard bowed.

  "Know then that my great-great-grandfather held his head high, and,being on the point of death, revolted against lying under the aisle withhis forbears for mean folk to pass over. So, as the tradition goes, heswore his son (my great-grandfather) to bury him erect in one of thepillars of the church" (here they entered the porch). "'For,' quoth he,'NO BASE MAN SHALL PASS OVER MY STOMACH.' Peste!" and, even whilespeaking, his lordship parried adroitly with his stick a skull that camehopping at him, bowled by a boy in the middle of the aisle, who took tohis heels yelling with fear the moment he saw what he had done. Hislordship hurled the skull furiously after him as he ran, at which thecure gave a shout of dismay and put forth his arm to hinder him, but wastoo late.

  The cure groaned aloud. And, as if this had evoked spirits of mischief,up started a whole pack of children from some ambuscade, and unseen, butheard loud enough, clattered out of the church like a covey rising in athick wood.

  "Oh! these pernicious brats," cried the cure. "The workmen cannot go totheir nonemete but the church is rife with them. Pray Heaven they havenot found his late lordship; nay, I mind, I hid his lordship under aworkman's jerkin, and--saints defend us! the jerkin has been moved."

  The poor cure's worst misgivings were realized: the rising generation ofplebeians had played the mischief with the haughty old noble. "Thelittle ones had jockeyed for the bones oh" and pocketed such of them asseemed adapted for certain primitive games then in vogue amongst them.

  "I'll excommunicate them," roared the curate, "and all their race."

  "Never heed," said the scapegrace lord: and stroked his hawk; "there isenough of him to swear by. Put him back! put him back!"

  "Surely, my lord, 'tis your will his bones be laid in hallowed earth,and masses said for his poor prideful soul?"

  The noble stroked his hawk.

  "Are ye there, Master Cure?" said he. "Nay, the business is too old: heis out of purgatory by this time, _up or down_. I shall not draw mypursestrings for him. Every dog his day. Adieu, Messires, adieu,ancestor:" and he sauntered off whistling to his hawk and caressing it.

  His reverence looked ruefully after him.

  "Cretensis incidit in Cretensem," said he sorrowfully. "I thought I hadhim safe for a dozen masses. Yet I blame him not, but that youngne'er-do-weel which did trundle his ancestor's skull at us: for whocould venerate his great-great-grandsire and play football with hishead? Well it behoves us to be better Christians than he is." So theygathered the bones reverently, and the cure locked them up and forbadethe workmen, who now entered the church, to close up the pillar, till heshould recover by threats of the Church's wrath every atom of my lord.And he showed Gerard a famous shrine in the church. Before it were theusual gifts of tapers, &c. There was also a wax image of a falcon, mostcuriously moulded and coloured to the life, eyes and all. Gerard's eyefell at once on this, and he expressed the liveliest admiration. Thecure assented. Then Gerard asked "Could the saint have loved hawking?"

  The cure laughed at his simplicity. "Nay, 'tis but a statuary hawk. Whenthey have a bird of gentle breed they cannot train they make his image,and send it to this shrine with a present, and pray the saint to workupon the stubborn mind of the original, and make it ductile as wax: thatis the notion, and methinks a reasonable one, too."

  Gerard assented. "But alack, reverend sir, were I a saint, methinks Ishould side with the innocent dove, rather than with the cruel hawk thatrends her."

  "By St. Denys you are right," said the cure. "But, que voulez-vous? thesaints are debonair, and have been flesh themselves, and know man'sfrailty and absurdity. 'Tis the Bishop of Avignon sent this one."

  "What do bishops hawk in this country?"

  "One and all. Every noble person hawks, and lives with hawk on wrist.Why my lord abbot hard by, and his lordship that has just parted fromus, had a two years' feud as to where they should put their hawks downon that very altar there. Each claimed the right hand of the altar forhis bird."

  "What desecration!"

  "Nay! nay! thou knowest we make them doff both glove and hawk to takethe blessed eucharist. Their jewelled gloves will they give to a servantor simple Christian to hold: but their beloved hawks they will put downon no place les
s than the altar."

  Gerard inquired how the battle of the hawks ended.

  "Why, the abbot he yielded, as the Church yields to laymen. He searchedancient books, and found that the left hand was the more honourable,being in truth the right hand, since the altar is east, but lookswestward. So he gave my lord the soi-disant right hand, and contentedhimself with the real right hand, and even so may the Church stilloutwit the lay nobles and their arrogance, saving your presence."

  "Nay, sir, I honour the Church. I am convent bred, and owe all I haveand am to holy Church."

  "Ah, that accounts for my sudden liking to thee. Art a gracious youth.Come and see me whenever thou wilt."

  Gerard took this as a hint that he might go now. It jumped with his ownwish, for he was curious to hear what Denys had seen and done all thistime. He made his reverence and walked out of the church; but was nosooner clear of it than he set off to run with all his might: and,tearing round a corner, ran into a large stomach, whose owner clutchedhim, to keep himself steady under the shock; but did not release hishold on regaining his equilibrium.

  "Let go, man," said Gerard.

  "Not so. You are my prisoner."

  "Prisoner?"

  "Ay."

  "What for in heaven's name?"

  "What for? Why sorcery."

  "SORCERY?"

  "Sorcery."