VIII
In the meanwhile that monk Francis sat writing in the Bishop's room andthe Bishop walked up and down behind his back. Once or twice the Bishoppaused in his walking as if he wished to speak to the monk, but again hewalked on and the monk Francis continued to write rapidly, pausing nowand then and looking upwards as he sought to remember the words of thedecree beginning: "Jejunandi," or the Decretal: "Nullam res est...."
So at last the Bishop stood for a long time near the door, looking downat the nails of his fingers, and then suddenly:
"Touching the matter of sorcery, my brother in God...." he said.
The monk swung quickly round upon his stool:
"There was no sorcery," he said determinedly. "Those three of CastleLovell were perjured."
"So I gathered," the Bishop said softly; "I considered that; it appearedso from what was said to me by the lawyer, Magister Stone."
The monk looked with the greater respect at the Bishop.
"Father in God," he said, "will you tell me how you came upon thatthought?"
The Bishop smiled a little faint smile of pleased vanity. For he likedto be considered that he was a subtle reader of the hearts of men. Inthat he thought that he was the superior of this monk.
"When a man comes to me," he said, "with two tales, to each of which hewill swear to find many witnesses, I am apt to think that one is false.So it was with this our friend called Stone."
"May I hear more?" the monk asked.
"It was in this way," the Bishop said, "and now you will see why I wastroubled in my conscience when you found me. This lawyer Stone took itfor postulated that I thirsted for the lands of this Young Lovell. Hewould have it no other way. Though once or twice I said I loved justicebetter than land he would have it no other way, but took my protestingsfor the solemn fooleries of a priest. He is, I think, a very evil man,with the face of an ape, stiff gestures, and the voice of a door hinge."
"I know the man very well," the monk Francis said. "He has twiceproposed to me the spoliation of widows with false charters for thebenefit of our monastery."
"So," the Bishop said, "he would have it that I was greedy of gold andlands for my see. And indeed I am if I may have them with decency. Sohe saith to me under his breath that, in two ways I might have CastleLovell. One tale was that this Young Lovell had capered with nakedwitches and others round a Baal fire. For that he had as witnesseshimself and another gossip called Meg of the Foul Tyke and that bastardcalled the Decies."
"It is because of that false witnessing that the Decies shall be brokenon the wheel," the monk Francis said.
"Well, it was false witnessing," the Bishop said. "And so I divined.For, afterwards, this lawyer, brings along another story. And it waseasy to see that this lawyer considered this the better story of the twoand would be mightily relieved of doubt if I would adopt it. And it wasthis."
The monk Francis looked now very eagerly upon the Bishop, who stoodstraight and still in his furred gown, lifting one hand stiffly:
"There is in the village of Castle Lovell," he said, "a fair lovechildcalled Elizabeth. Some will have it that the father is the YoungLovell, some that it is of the Young Lovell's father. How that may be Ido not know, but it is certain that that child is of the Lovell kin andHarrison is its name. Now, as May comes in, that child, as childrenwill, goeth afield seeking herbs for a coney that the mother hada-fattening. So the child Elizabeth goeth further and further amongstthese hills of sand where green stuff is rare. For, that she might notpluck herbs in the bondsmen's fields, that are laid down to hay, thatchild very well knew. So, looking up suddenly, that child perceivedupon a high sand-hill, and sitting upon a brown horse that she wellknew, a knight that very well she knew too, being the Young Lovell. Forthis lording was accustomed to bring the child Elizabeth pieces of sugarand figs and to give her fair words and money to the mother.
"So that child had no fear of the Young Lovell, but ran up to him cryingout for sugar and figs. But he paid no heed to her, only sat there uponhis horse. So the child looked further and perceived, upon a whitehorse, a lady in a scarlet gown, in a green hood, who smiled very kindlyat her. So that child was afraid, as children are, and ran home. Thatwas in the midst of May....
"Now came fell poverty into the hut where dwelled that woman and herchild. The last pence were gone, the fatted coneys eaten; they must gobatten upon roots, and when that mother sought relief of the LadiesDouce and Isopel in the Castle they jeered and spat upon her. And everthe mother cried that if the Young Lovell would come they would findrelief. Then at last that child took courage and said that she knewwhere the Young Lovell was and would lead her there.
"So she leads her mother through these hills of sand--and it was thenclose to July, the 29th of June as it might be. There upon the hills ofsand that mother perceives the Young Lovell. He sat upon his brownhorse, in his cloak of scarlet, with his parti-coloured hose of scarletand green. He wore his cap of scarlet set about with large pearls...."
"These pearls," the monk Francis said, "I have as a gage in my aumbreyof Belford."
"His long hair fell down upon his shoulders and he looked away. Thenwearily that mother climbed the sand-hill crying out to the Young Lovellfor gold. He never looked upon her but gazed always away; neverthelesshe fingered his girdle and found his poke and cast down to her a Frenchmark of gold."
"I thank God he did that charity," the monk Francis said, "even if hedid not know it; and I think he did not."
"Why let us thank God," the Bishop said. And he asked: "Then this is atrue tale?"
"I think it is," the monk Francis answered. "But, of your charity, tellme more."
"Then," the Bishop said, "that poor woman fell upon that piece of goldin the sand and kissed it. And, as she looked up over it to kiss too theYoung Lovell's hand, so she saw a fair, kind woman. Red hair she hadand was clothed in white with a jewel of rubies in a white hat. Such akind, fair lady that woman had never seen, and the Young Lovell gazedupon her and she into his eyes. Then tears blinded that woman and griefand pain at the heart. So she came back to her hut, she knew not how;and, indeed, she knew no more until there came the lawyer Stone holdinga cordial to her lips.
"For, you must know that that child, taking that piece of gold from hermother's fingers and being all innocent, went away into the village tobuy food for her mother. So the first man she came to, seeing her withit, took her to the house of the lawyer Stone to have the right of it.Then the lawyer having beaten her, she told him that the Young Lovellhad that day given it to her mother.
"So the lawyer, avid of news of the Young Lovell, jumped like an ape tothat poor hut. But it was two days before that woman could speak,though he nursed her and fed cordials to her never so. Then that lawyergot men-at-arms and scoured the country according to her directions.But upon the Young Lovell he never came."
"By that day," the monk Francis said, "he was in my cell commendinghimself to God."
The Bishop looked apprehensively upon the monk Francis.
"Then this you take for a true tale," he said. "Woe is me."
They were both silent for a while, and then the monk said--for they werelooking with faces of great weariness upon the tiles:
"Father in God, tell me truly, I do pray, all that you know from thislawyer."
"Brother," the Bishop said, "God help us, this lawyer was insistent thatthe tale of sorcery against this lording should be let to lapse orchanged for another, such as that he consorted with old fairies andworse."
"How then," the monk Francis said, "would he put aside his formerperjuries?"
"He would say," the Bishop said, "that his eyes deceived him, magicbeing in the air, and that on that morning the Young Lovell rodefuriously past him going as if he knew not whither."
"Why so he did!" the monk Francis said, "but that shall not save thelawyer. His former oaths are written down."
"Brother," the Bishop said, "it is that lawyer's plan
to begin anothersuit in the courts ecclesiastical and there not to swear at all, butignoring the bill before the Wardens, to bring many witnesses about thisfairy lady."
"What other witnesses has he?" the monk Francis asked. He spoke like aman without hope.
"You must know," the Bishop said, "that this lawyer during these monthswas enquiring of the Young Lovell in the past. So in Newcastle he founda master-tailor to whom the Young Lovell for long owed four pounds. Andone day in February this tailor, needing money, went out from Newcastletowards Castle Lovell, riding upon an ass. And so, upon the way, he sawa lady that had a white horse and was little and dark. He was intribulation for his money and pondered much upon the Young Lovellwhether he was a lording that would pay him or one that would have himbeaten at the gate.
"And, as he thought that, this lady looked upon him as if she would askthe way to where the Young Lovell dwelt. She was little and swart andhad a green undercoat.
"And again in February there was a ship boy that went from Sunderlandwith a white falcon his ship had brought from Hamboro', for the YoungLovell. Now, upon this voyage, this ship boy had conceived a great lovefor that falcon even as boys will that upon ships are beaten by all andconceive loves for dumb beasts. So that ship boy went pondering withthe white hawk and wondering and almost weeping to think that thatlording might be a cruel master to the falcon. For he loved that falconvery well. So he was aware of a kind, fair lady with a white horse thatlooked upon him as much as to say that the Young Lovell would be agentle and kind lord to that fowl. She was a great fair woman in aGerman hood of black velvet--such a one as that ship boy had seen and,as boys will, had conceived an ardent love for, in Hamboro'."
The monk Francis said: "Ah," and then he brought out the words: "Fatherin God, I too have seen her--and twice. When I thought of the YoungLovell."
Then the Bishop groaned lamentably; three times and very swiftly hewalked from end to end of the cell, holding his hands above his head.Then he ran upon a shelf and with a furious haste pulled out a largebook bound in white skin. He threw it open upon his bed and bade themonk come look at a picture.
This picture was all in fair blues and reds and greens, going across thetwo pages of the book.
"I had this book in Rome," the Bishop said, "of a Greek called Josephus.Look upon this picture."
The picture showed a mountain with trees upon it. And round the mountainwent a colonnade of marble pillars. In between the central columns,where it was higher, sat a grey-bearded and frowning man. Naked he wasto the waist and he was upon a throne of gold. At his left hand was aneagle; in his right the forked lightning of a thunderbolt. Beside himstood a proud woman in purple with a diadem of gold. In the next templewas a helmed woman that leaned upon a great spear; next her, a man allfurious, that held up a great round shield and a pointed sword. Overagainst him reclined a great man with a lion's hide who leant upon aclub; beyond him a man all white with the sun in his hair and beyondthat a youth with wings upon his feet, upon his cap and upon a rod,twined with snakes that he held. All these were in the temple, and manymore, such as a woman in a chariot drawn by oxen, and an old crowned manrising from the blue waves of the sea.
Then the Bishop laid his trembling imperious fingers upon a place higherup the mountain, above the temple.
"Look upon this," he said. There, amongst olive trees, the monkperceived a pink, naked woman. In one hand she held a mirror intowhich, lasciviously, she smiled. Her other hand held out behind her awealth of shining hair like gold. Above her, clouds upon the blue skyturned over and let down a rain of pink roseleaves.
"I do not know who these be," the monk Francis said. "I was never inRome."
Then the Bishop said harshly:
"Was the woman you saw like this woman?"
"Not so," the monk answered, "she had dark hair divided down the middleand parted lips. She was like the cousin that I slew and so shesmiled."
The Bishop groaned. And so he wrung his hands and cried out:
"As God is good to me, I saw that naked woman stand so and smile so, inmy vestiary, this morning after I had said mass. Six times I made thesign of the cross and she went not away. I was pondering upon the caseof the Young Lovell.... She went not away.... Pondering.... God helpme, a sinful man.... The eremites of the Libyan desert.... But no, itwas not so.... No temptation...."
The waves of terror shook that Bishop with the thin features. His handswere so knitted and squeezed together in a paroxysm that it seemed theblood must spurt from his finger nails. And even as he stood, so hegroaned with a hollow and continuous sound. Then the monk Francis criedout:
"Those are the fairies! Those women are the fairies! God help you,Lord Bishop, you cannot condemn my friend because he has seen them, ifyou cannot keep them out of your own vestiary.... For all about thisworld they are.... They peer in upon us. Thro' the windows they peerin! Looking! Looking! You cannot condemn my friend.... Like beasts ofpray in the night they peer into the narrow rooms.... Hungering! ...Hungering!" His voice was like heavy, fierce sobs and it soundedagainst the Bishop's moans.
"God forgive me," he cried out, "it was upon these that I thought when Icomforted my friend with talks of angels and saints.... I lied andthought I was lying.... Angels! These are the little people! Thelittle angels, as the country people say, that were once the angels ofGod. But they would not aid Him against Lucifer, doubting the issue ofthe combat.... They it is, have brought this fine weather we enjoy. Agreat host of them, like fair women, is descended upon this country.They cannot live without fine weather...."
Both these churchmen were weakened with fasting and prayers when theymight have slept. The monk Francis had great fears, their minds leaptfrom place to place. That long, bare room seemed surrounded with hostsof fair, evil fiends. He imagined devils with twisted snouts and longclaws scraping and scratching at the leads of the painted glass and atthe stones of the mortar.
Then the Bishop cried out upon him with a fearful voice, calling himignorant, a fool rustic monk, a low, religious filled with barbaroussuperstitions. He came close to the monk Francis and cried into hisvery face:
"God help me, thou fool, bleating of fairies.... All those women wereone woman! ... And again God help me! When I heard thee bleatignorantly of the prowess of that young knight I did not believethee.... But now I do believe he is the most precious defender we havein this place.... I will asperge his shining armour with holy oils....I will bless his sword.... God help him.... How shall he fight againsta goddess with a sword of steel.... Yet she is vulnerable! All writingssay she is vulnerable...."
He began a pitiful babble that the monk could not well understand, ofItaly where he had lived many years as the King's Friend. So he spokeof cypress groves and the ruined corners of old temples, and firefliesand nights of love. He spoke of earth crumbling away in pits and greatwhite statues with sightless eyes rising out of the graves onhill-sides, tall columns that no one could overset, and the gods of thehearth. Of all these things the monk Francis knew nothing. The Bishopspoke of crafty Italians with whom he had spoken, and of subtle Greeksof the fallen Eastern Empire; and of how this subtle creature, as thecredible legends said, dwelt now, since the fall of Byzantium, upon amountainside in Almain, and of an almond staff that flowered....
Then that Bishop cast himself upon his bed, face downwards, and so helay still.
That monk sat there many hours upon the little stool, and whether theBishop slept or thought he could not tell, for the Bishop never moved.Then that monk considered that that Bishop had many and strangeknowledges, having passed so long a time in foreign parts. And therewas fear in that monk's heart, for he thought he was with a sorcererthat aimed to make himself pope by sorceries. And afterwards he fell toconsidering of how this Bishop should deal with his friend the YoungLovell, for that Bishop was master and lord.
And so, being the harder man of the two, he went over in his mind thenecessity that that see had for a champion in thos
e parts and how therecould be none so good as the Young Lovell, even though that knight were,as he feared, a man accursed and certain of a pitiful end. Yet he mightas well do what he could for the Church before that end came. And themonk thought of the evil King and the subtle Sir Bertram and the grimcoward that the Percy was and the discontent of the common sort and howthat might be used. And he thought of all these things for a long time,as if they were counters he moved upon a chess-board. And he cried tohimself: "Ah, if I were Bishop I would control these things."
And then he remembered that it was long since he had prayed for the soulof his cousin that he had slain. So he set himself upon his knees andsought to make up for lost time in prayer. Those windows faced towardsthe west, being high over the river that rushes below. And from whereone knelt he could see the tower of St. Margaret's Church through theopen casement of stained glass. And at last, towards its setting, thesun shone blood red through all those windows of colours, ruby, purple,vermeil, grass green and the blue of lapis lazuli. All those coloursfell upon the tiles of the floor that were hewn with a lily pattern inyellow of the potter. Twenty colours fell upon the figure of theBishop, lying all in black upon his bed and as many upon the form of themonk where he knelt and prayed. Scarlet irradiated his forehead, purplehis chin and shoulder, and to the waist he was bluish.
The voices of the pigeons on the roofs lamented the passing of the daywith bubbling sounds, the great bell of the cathedral and many otherbells called for evening prayer in the fields; it was late, for that wasthe season of hay-making. Then that praying monk perceived, through thesmall window, a great red globe hastening down behind the tower of St.Margaret's Church and, with a sudden deepening, twilight and shadowsfilled that long room because of the opaque and coloured windows.
And ever as the monk prayed there, he was pervaded by the image of hiscousin's face--Passerose of Widdrington she had been called, for she washeld to exceed the rose in beauty. In that darkness where he knelt hewas pervaded by the thought of her face with the hair divided in themiddle, the smooth brow, the so kind eyes and the parted lips. He knewshe must be in purgatory for that space, for he had killed her with anarrow in the woodlands, unassoiled, and he could not consider that hisprayers yet had sufficed to save her so little as five hundred years ofthat dread place. Yet, tho' he knew her to be in purgatory, in thosedark shadows he had a sense that she was near him so that he could hearthe rustle of her weed moving around him. She had loved green that isvery dark in shadowy places. A great longing seized upon him to stretchout his arms and so to touch her. Then he remembered that it was thatface that had looked kindly in upon him in his cell, and he groaned andcried upon our Saviour and His Mother to save him from such carnallongings. He had much loved his kind cousin whilst he had been a roughknight of this world. Many had loved her, but he alone remembered, andhe considered how she that had been most beautiful was now no more thana horrible and grinning skull, God so willing it with all beauty that isof this world and made of the red blood that courses through the veins.
At the sound that he then gave forth he heard another sound which wasthat of the Bishop where he stirred upon his bed. And, in the deepshadows, he was aware that that Bishop sat up and looked upon him. Andat last John Sherwood, Bishop Palatine spoke, his voice being harsh andfirst.
"Brother in God," he said, "I have determined that this Young Lovellshall have my absolution and blessing upon his arms and the sacrament ofknighthood and all the things of this world that you desired for him.Touching the things that are not of this world I will not say much, butonly such matters as shall suffice for your guidance. For of thesematters I know somewhat and you nothing at all."
The Bishop paused and the monk said humbly:
"Father in God and my lord, I thank you."
"I lately rebuked you," the Bishop said, "for meddling brutishly inthings of which you knew nothing. For you cried out to me ignorant andrustic superstitions, such as it is not fitting for a religious tomeditate upon. And so I rebuke you again and I command you that you askof your confessor such a penance as he shall think fitting for one thathas miserably blasphemed, and in a manner of doctrine.... Now this Itell you for your guidance.... This apparition that you have seen and I,appeareth with many faces and bodies, being the spirit that most snarethmen to carnal desires. So doth she show herself to each man in theimage that should snare him to sin, with a face, kind, virtuous andalluring after each man's tastes. That is the nature of such falsegods. For this is a false god, such as I have discerned you never, inyour black ignorance, to have heard of. But Holy Writ, which I havemuch studied and you very little, after the fashion of certain monks,enjoins upon us to believe in the existence of false gods. So there areever strange and cold creatures, looking upon this world with steadfasteyes. For Lucretius says, that was a writer, pagan yet half inspired:'The universe is very large and in it there is room for a multitude ofgods.' So I rede you, believe of false gods."
"Father in God, I will," the monk said, "I perceive it to be my duty.For now I remember me the Church enjoins upon us to be constant infighting against such, therefore they must exist."
"Then this too I command you as a duty," the Bishop said from the thickdarkness, "that for the duration of his life you quit never this knightbut be ever with him, seeking how you may win him from the perception ofthis evil being. For signing of the cross shall not do it, neithershall sprinklings with holy water such as avail with the spirits of mendeceased or with Satan and such imps. For this is even a god and theonly way you may prevail against it is by keeping the mind of yourpenitent upon the things of this world of God. If you shall perceivethis form of a woman here or there you shall speak to him quickly ofsetting up an oratory, or charity to the poor, or riding, in the name ofGod, against the false Scots. This shall avail little, but somewhat itmay. Do you mark me?"
"Father in God," the monk said, "you put me in much better heart than Iwas before. For if I may, I will tell you how once I have done."
So the monk, from the darkness, told the Bishop how for the second timehe had seen that lady. This was upon the road below Eshot Hill, goingto Morpeth, near the farmhouse called Helm. Here, as he rode with theYoung Lovell, a little before his men, he had seen that lady come out ofa little wood and mount upon a white horse with a great company ofdamsels upon horses about her. And so all that many, brightly clad,rode down to a little hillock and watched that lording pass them, allsmiling together. So that monk for the first time had been afraid thatthis was no St. Katharine and no angel of God.
But the Young Lovell had gone drooping in the hot sun and thirstingwithin himself and had not seen that lady. And at first that monk hadwished to pull out his breviary and bid the Young Lovell read a prayerin it. But in his haste he could not come upon it amongst his robes forhe was riding upon a mule. So, in that same haste, he had made certainlines with his finger nail upon the saddle before him and commanded theYoung Lovell to look upon them saying it was a plan of Castle Lovellthat he scratched, and the White Tower. And to have money, he told theYoung Lovell, that lord must go with a boat to below the White Towerwhere it stood in the sea. And so Richard Raket should lower him goldin baskets at the end of a rope.
And the Young Lovell had looked down upon these markings attentively andsaid it was a good plan and never looked up at that lady and her companywho sat there, all smiling, until they were passed.
"Well, she can bide her time," the Bishop said; then he said: "Brotherin God, I have never seen this Young Lovell, but I perceive that he mustbe fair in his body."
"He is the fairest man of his body that ever I saw," the monk answered,"And as I have heard said by servants that went to meet him and hisfather, to Venice, he was esteemed the fairest man that those parts, asall the world, ever saw. But how that may be I know not."
"You may say he is the fairest knight of Christendom," the Bishop said."That is very certain. I know it that have never seen this lord....But so it is that I see you are
not so great a fool as I had thought.And it is ever in such ways that you shall deal with this Young Lovellas you did then."
"I will very well do that, if I may," the monk said. "And if I may donothing more I will spit upon that foul demon who without doubt beneatha fair exterior beareth a beak or snout, claws, and filthy scales...."
"Nay do not do that," the Bishop said, "for if God who is the ancient ofdays permitteth these false gods to walk upon this godly earth that isHis, shall we not think that they are in some sort His guests? Or so Ithink, for I do not know."
So by that hour both these churchmen were very hungry and weary too.For that reason the fury was gone out of them, and it was ten at night.So the Bishop called for torches in the gallery and went into a littlerefectory that he had in that part of the Castle. Whilst these two ateheartily together, the Bishop sent messengers to the higher officers ofthe monastery to rouse them from their beds and to say that shortlyafter midnight, as soon as they might, the Prince Bishop begged them torise from their sleep and sing a _Te Deum_ in the cathedral, upon a veryspecial occasion.
In the black cathedral, near the steps that pass into the choir, theYoung Lovell knelt. Beside him, since he was so great a lord, stood theesquire Cressingham supporting his banner and his shield and having inhis arm the helmet of state. There were lay brothers up before thealtar, moving into place a great statue of Our Lady that ran uponwheels. This they were bringing from near the North door to stand beforethe high altar. This statue was twelve foot high of brass gilt and, thebetter to see, these lay brothers had placed a candle upon Our Lady'scrown. That was all the light there was in the great space that smeltof incense and was sooty black.
As near as she might to the black line in the floor--beyond this nowoman may go in the cathedral of Durham and even Queen Eleanor ofAquitaine had been beaten with rods by the monks when she passed it tojoin King Edward--beyond this line knelt the Lady Margaret of Glororemin the darkness, and behind a pillar was the lawyer Stone who would fainspeak some words with the Young Lovell. For he wished to have sold thepeople of Castle Lovell to him if the Young Lovell would pay him a smallprice.
The lawyer had waited all that night from seven or earlier.
Then a little noise began to be heard in the great cathedral, and twolittle boys came in and lit candles by the North door and then came apage bearing a great sword. He leant it against a vast pillar and beganto laugh with the little boys that had lit the candles. Then there camein the Bishop with his chaplain and the monk Francis.
So the Bishop went and stood before the Young Lovell and said he hadpermission of them of the monastery to hear that lord confess himselfthere where he knelt. So the esquire Cressingham removed himself to adistance and drove away the little boys when they would have approached.And so the Bishop absolved the Young Lovell and bade him rise from hisknees and go with him to where the Lady Margaret of Glororem knelt indarkness.
Her too he bade rise from her knees, and so walked up and down betweenthem, saying comfortable things and exhorting them, when the Pope shouldhave given them licence, to marry one another and live faithful each toeach and to be charitable and piteous to the poor and be good childrenof Holy Church. And so by twos and threes monks began to come in, and,going behind the high altar, they sang a mass with a _Te Deum_, for itwas just past midnight.
Then the Prior of that monastery placed between the lips of the YoungLovell the flesh of our Lord. The Prior wished to do this that he mightdo honour to that young lord, and that great boon of giving him thesacrament. And, afterwards, with the sword that page had brought,sitting in his stall the Bishop made a Knight of that lord.
In that way the Young Lovell had his knighthood and his pardon.
PART III