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- Author: Walter Scott
Book online «The Monastery by Walter Scott (free novels to read .txt) 📖». Author Walter Scott
“For that matter,” said the rider, “his seat would scarce be a soft one, if my master thought that Gilbert's interest stood betwixt him and what he wishes. The Halidome has land enough, and Gilbert may be quartered elsewhere.”
“We will consider the possibility of so disposing the matter,” said the monk, “and will expect in consequence your master's most active assistance, with all the followers he can make, to join in the defence of the Halidome, against any force by which it may be threatened.”
“A man's hand and a mailed glove on that,” said the jackman. “They
{Footnote: As some atonement for their laxity of morals on most occasions, the Borderers were severe observers of the faith which they had pledged, even to an enemy. If any person broke his word so plighted, the individual to whom faith had not been observed, used to bring to the next Border-meeting a glove hung on the point of a spear, and proclaim to Scots and English the name of the defaulter. This was accounted so great a disgrace to all connected with him, that his own clansmen sometimes destroyed him, to escape the infamy he had brought on them.
Constable, a spy engaged by Sir Ralph Sadler, talks of two Border thieves, whom he used as his guides:—“That they would not care to steal, and yet that they would not betray any man that trusts in them, for all the gold in Scotland or in France. They are my guides and outlaws. If they would betray me they might get their pardons, and cause me to be hanged; but I have tried them ere this.”—Sadler's letters during the Northern Insurrection.}
call us marauders, thieves, and what not; but the side we take we hold by.—And I will be blithe when my Baron comes to a point which side he will take, for the castle is a kind of hell, (Our Lady forgive me for naming such a word in this place!) while he is in his mood, studying how he may best advantage himself. And now, Heaven be praised, we are in the open valley, and I may swear a round oath, should aught happen to provoke it.”
“My friend,” said the Sub-Prior, “thou hast little merit in abstaining from oaths or blasphemy, if it be only out of fear of evil spirits.”
“Nay, I am not quite a Church vassal yet,” said the jackman, “and if you link the curb too tight on a young horse, I promise you he will rear—Why, it is much for me to forbear old customs on any account whatever.”
The night being fine, they forded the river at the spot where the Sacristan met with his unhappy encounter with the spirit. As soon as they arrived at the gate of the Monastery, the porter in waiting eagerly exclaimed, “Reverend father, the Lord Abbot is most anxious for your presence.”
“Let these strangers be carried to the great hall,” said the Sub-Prior, “and be treated with the best by the cellarer; reminding them, however, of that modesty and decency of conduct which becometh guests in a house like this.”
“But the Lord Abbot demands you instantly, my venerable brother,” said Father Philip, arriving in great haste. “I have not seen him more discouraged or desolate of counsel since the field of Pinkie-cleugh was stricken.”
“I come, my good brother, I come,” said Father Eustace. “I pray thee, good brother, let this youth, Edward Glendinning, be conveyed to the Chamber of the Novices, and placed under their instructor. God hath touched his heart, and he proposeth laying aside the vanities of the world, to become a brother of our holy order; which, if his good parts be matched with fitting docility and humility, he may one day live to adorn.”
“My very venerable brother,” exclaimed old Father Nicholas, who came hobbling with a third summons to the Sub-Prior, “I pray thee to hasten to our worshipful Lord Abbot. The holy patroness be with us! never saw I Abbot of the House of St. Mary's in such consternation; and yet I remember me well when Father Ingelram had the news of Flodden-field.”
“I come, I come, venerable brother,” said Father Eustace—And having repeatedly ejaculated “I come!” he at last went to the Abbot in good earnest.
Chapter the Thirty-Fourth. It is not texts will do it—Church artillery Are silenced soon by real ordnance, And canons are but vain opposed to cannon. Go, coin your crosier, melt your church plate down Bid the starved soldier banquet in your halls, And quaff your long-saved hogsheads—Turn them out Thus primed with your good cheer, to guard your wall, And they will venture for't.— OLD PLAY.
The Abbot received his counsellor with a tremulous eagerness of welcome, which announced to the Sub-Prior an extreme agitation of spirits, and the utmost need of good counsel. There was neither mazer-dish nor standing-cup upon the little table, at the elbow of his huge chair of state; his beads alone lay there, and it seemed as if he had been telling them in his extremity of distress. Beside the beads was placed the mitre of the Abbot, of an antique form, and blazing with precious stones, and the rich and highly-embossed crosier rested against the same table.
The Sacristan and old Father Nicholas had followed the Sub-Prior into the Abbot's apartment, perhaps with the hope of learning something of the important matter which seemed to be in hand.—They were not mistaken; for, after having ushered in the Sub-Prior, and being themselves in the act of retiring, the Abbot made them a signal to remain.
“My brethren,” he said, “it is well known to you with what painful zeal we have overseen the weighty affairs of this house committed to our unworthy hand—your bread hath been given to you, and your water hath been sure—I have not wasted the revenues of the Convent on vain pleasures, as hunting or hawking, or in change of rich cope or alb, or in feasting idle bards and jesters, saving those who, according to old wont, were received in time of Christmas and Easter. Neither have I enriched either mine own relations nor strange women, at the expense of the Patrimony.”
“There hath not been such a Lord Abbot,” said Father Nicholas, “to my knowledge, since the days of Abbot Ingelram, who——”
At that portentous word, which always preluded a long story, the Abbot broke in.
“May God have mercy on his soul!—we talk not of him now.—What I would know of ye, my brethren, is, whether I have, in your mind, faithfully discharged the duties of mine office?”
“There has never been subject of complaint,” answered the Sub-Prior.
The Sacristan, more diffuse, enumerated the various acts of indulgence and kindness which the mild government of Abbot Boniface had conferred on the brotherhood of Saint Mary's—the indulgentiae—the gratias—the biberes-the weekly mess of boiled almonds—the enlarged accommodation of the refectory—the better arrangement of the cellarage—the improvement of the revenue of the Monastery—the diminution of the privations of the brethren.
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