A Legend of Reading Abbey

by Charles MacFarlane

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  A LEGEND OF READING ABBEY.

  by

  CHARLES MACFARLANE

  The Author of 'The Camp of Refuge.'

  London:Charles Knight & Co., Ludgate Street.1845.

  A LEGEND OF READING ABBEY.

  I.

  It was in the year of Grace eleven hundred and thirty-seven (when thegrace of God appeared to be entirely departing from the sinful andunhappy land of England), and Stephen of Blois, nephew of the deceasedKing Henry Beauclerc, sat upon the throne, lawfully and honestly, assome men said, but most unlawfully, according to others. And the woe Ihave to relate arose from this divergency of opinion, but still morefrom the change-ableness of men's minds, which led our bishops, lords,and optimates to side now with one party and now with the other, and nowchange sides again, to the great perplexing of the understanding ofhonest and simple men, to the undoing of their fortunes, and well nighto the utter ruin of this realm, which that learned clerk and rightpolitic King Henricus Primus had left in so flourishing and peaceful acondition.

  Our great religious house of Reading (may the hand of sacrilege and theflames of war never more reach it!), founded and endowed by theBeauclerc, had then been newly raised on that smiling, favoured spot ofearth which lies on the bank of the Kennet, hard by the juncture of thatclear and swift stream with our glorious river Thamesis; and in soothour noble house was not wholly finished and furnished at this time; foralbeit the first church, together with most of its chapels and shrines,was in a manner completed, and our great hall was roofed in, and flooredand lined with oak, the lord abbat's apartment, and the lodging of theprior, and the dormitory for the brethren, and the granary and thestables for my lord abbat's horses, were yet unfinished; and, except onSundays and the feast days of Mother Church, these parts of the abbeywere filled by artisans and well-skilled workmen who had been collectedfrom Windsor, Wallingford, Oxenford, Newbury, nay even from the rightroyal city of Winchester, which abounded with well-skilled masons andbuilders, and the capital city of London, where all the arts be mostcultivated. Moreover, sundry artists we had from beyond the seas, asmasons and hewers of stone, who had been sent unto us from Caen inNormandie by the defunct king, and some right skilful carvers in woodand in stone, who had been brought out of Italie by Father MichaelAngelo Torpietro, a member of our house, who had quitted the gloriousmonastery of Mons Casinium, which had been raised and occupied by thefounder of our order, the blessed Benedict himself, when he was in theflesh, in order to live among us and instruct us in humane letters andin all the rules and ordinances of our order, wherein we Anglo andAnglo-Norman monks, in verity, needed some instruction. And this FatherTorpietro of happy memory had also been enabled by the liberality ofour first lord abbat to bring from the city of Pisa in Italie a rightgood limner, who painted such saints and Virgins upon gilded panels ashad not before been seen in England, and who was now painting the chapelof our Ladie with rare and inappreciable art, as men who have eyes andunderstanding may see at this day. All the learned and periti do affirmthat for limning and gilding our chapel of the Ladie doth excel whateveris seen in the churches of Westminster and Winchester in the south, orin the churches of York and Durham in the north, or in the churches ofWells and Exeter in the west, or in Ely and Lincoln in the east. [Ispeak not of the miracles performed by our relics: they are known to theworld, and be at least as great as those performed by our Ladie ofWalsingham.] Albeit our walls of stone and flint were not all finishedin the inner part, our house was girded and guarded by ramparts of royalcharters and papal bulls. Two charters had we from our founder, and onefrom King Stephen, confirmatory of those two. And great were theimmunities and privileges contained in these charters. No scutage had weto pay; no stallage, no tolls, no tribute; no customs in fair or market,no tithing penny or two-penny, no amercements or fines or forfeitures ofany kind! Our mills were free, and our fisheries and our woods andparks. No officer of the king was to exercise any right in the woods andchases of the lord abbat, albeit they were within the limits of theforests royal; but the lord abbat and the monks and their servitors wereto hold and for ever enjoy the same powers and liberties in their woodsand chases as the king had in his. Hence was the House of Reading everwell stocked with the succulent meat of the buck. Too long were it totell all that our founder Henricus did for us. At the beginning of hisreign, he abolished the ancient power of abbats to make knights; yet, inorder to distinguish our house, he did, by a particular clause in ourcharter of foundation, give unto the lord abbat of Reading and to hissuccessors for ever, authority to make knights, whether clerks orlaymen, provided only that the ceremony should be performed by the abbatin his clerical habit and capacity, and not as a layman, and that heshould be careful to advance none but men of manly age and discreetjudgment. Of all the royal and mitred abbeys in the land ours waschiefest after Glastonbury and St. Albans; and assuredly we have somehonours and privileges which those two more ancient houses have not. I,who have taken up the pen in mine old age to record upon enduringparchment some of the passages I witnessed in my youth and ripe manhood,would not out of any unseemly vanity perpetuate my name and condition; Iwould lie, unnamed, among the humblest of this brotherhood who havelived or will live without praise, and have died or will die withoutblame; but as the world in after-time may wish to know who it was thattold the story I have now in hand, and what were my opportunities ofknowing the truth, it may be incumbent on me to say so much asthis:--John Fitz-John of Sunning was my secular name and my designationin the world of pomps and vanities; my mother was of the Saxon, myfather of the Norman race; my mother (I say a requiem for her daily)descended from a great Saxon earl, or, as some do say, prince; and myfather's grandfather, who fought at the battle of Hastings, wascup-bearer to William the Conqueror, in sort that if I could be puffedup with mundane greatness I have the wherewithal: my name in religion isFelix, of the order of St. Benedict and of the Abbey of Reading; and asa servant of the servants of the Lord, I have filled without discredit,in the course of many years, the several high offices of sub-sacrist andsacrist, refectorarius, cellarer, chamberlain, and sub-prior; and mayhapwhen I shall be gone hence some among this community will say that therehave been worse officials than Father Felix.

  In the year eleven hundred and thirty-seven I was but a youthful novice,still longing after the flesh-pots of Egypt, and mourning for the lossof the worldly liberty I had enjoyed or abused in my mother's house atSunning, which was a goodly house near the bank of Thamesis, on a woodedhill hard by the wooden old Saxon bridge of Sunning. But I was oldenough to comprehend most of the passing events; and being much favouredand indulged by the lord abbat and several of the brotherhood, I heardand saw more than the other novices, and was more frequently employedupon embassages beyond the precincts of the abbey lands. It was a commonsaying in the house that Felix the Sunningite, though but little givento his books within doors, was the best of boys for out-door work. Bythe favour of our Ladie, the love of in-door studies came upon meafterwards at that time when I was first assailed by podagra, and sincethat time have I not read all the forty and odd books that be in ourlibrary, and have I not made books with mine own hand, faithfullytranscribing the Confessions of St. Augustin, and the whole of the Lifeof St. Benedict, and missals not a few? But not to me the praise andglory, _sed nomini tuo_!

  As I was born in the house at Sunning (may the sun ever shine upon thathappy village, and upon the little church wher
ein rests the mortal partof my mother) on the eve of St. John the Evangelist, in the year of ourRedemption eleven hundred and twenty, being the twentieth year of theBeauclerc's reign, I was, on the feast of St. Edbert, Bishop andConfessor, in the year eleven hundred and thirty-seven, close upon theeighteenth year of mine age.

  St. Edbert's festival, falling in the flowering month of May, is onewhich my heart hath always much affected. The house had kept it rightmerrily; and notwithstanding the unfinished state of portions of theabbey, I do opine that our ceremonies in church and choir were that dayvery magnificent, and fit to be a pattern to some other houses. Alllabours were suspended; for he is a niggard of the worst sort thatbegrudgeth even his serfs and bondmen rest at such a tide; and eager aswas our lord abbat Edward for the completion of our stately edifice, and_speciliater_ for the finishing of our dormitory, he would not allow aman to chip a stone, or put one flint upon another, or hew or shape woodupon St. Edbert's day; and he was almost angered at the Italian limnerfor finishing part of a glory which he had begun in our Ladie's chapel.It was a memorable day, and, _inter alia_, for this: it was the firstnight that the good lord abbat slept within the walls of the abbey; forhitherto, on account of the cold and dampness of the new walls, he hadbetaken himself for his nightly rest either to a house close by in thetown of Reading, or to the house of a God-fearing relation, who dwelt onthe other side of Thamesis at Caversham.

  After the completorium and supper (we had both meat and wine of the bestat that coena), the weather being warm, and the evening altogetherbeautiful, the abbat and reverend fathers, as well as the youngermembers of the house, gathered together in my lord abbat's garden at theback of the abbey, and sat there for a season on the green bank of theKennet, looking at the bright river as it glided by, and at the youngmoon and twinkling stars that were reflected in the water, ordiscoursing with one another upon sundry cheerful topics. Good cheer hadmade me cheerful, and it remembers me that I made little coronals andchains of the violets that grew by the river bank, and of thebright-eyed daisies that covered all the sward, and threw them upon thegliding and ever-changing surface of the Kennet, and said, as I had donein my still happier childhood, "Get ye down to Sunning bridge, and stopnot at this bank or on that, but go ye right down to Sunning, and tellmy mother that I am happy with my shaven crown."

  The lord abbat, looking back upon the tall tower of our church, and thebroad massive walls of our Aula Magna, said--

  "In veritate, this is a goodly and substantial house, and one fitted tobeautify holiness."

  "In truth is it," said that good and learned Italian father who hadbrought the limner from Pisa.

  "Torpietro," said the abbat, "this soil grows no marble; we have nothereabout the nitent blocks of Carrara, or the soberer marble of Lucca;we have neither granite nor freestone; but rounded chalk-hills have we,and flints love the chalk-pit, and the pits of Caversham areinexhaustible; and with our mortar, rubble, and flints, we have builtwalls three fathoms thick, and have made an abbey which will standlonger than your Italian temples, built of stone and marble; for time,that corrodes and consumes other substances, makes our cement the harderand stronger. Somewhat rough are they on the outside, like the characterof our nation; but they are compact and sound within, and not to bemoved or shaken--no, scarcely by an earthquake."

  "'Tis a substantial pile," quoth Torpietro. "Balestra, nor catapult, normanginall, nor the mightiest battering-ram, will ever breach thesewalls; and therefore is the house safe against any attack of war, andtherefore will it stand, entire as it now is, when a thousand years aregone."

  "Nay," said the abbat, "name not war: a sacred place like this is not tobe assaulted; and our good and brave King Stephen is now firmly andrightfully seated, and we shall have no intestine trouble. We have nofig-trees, or I would quote to thee, Brother Torpietro, that passagewhich saith.... Felix, my son, leave off throwing flowers in the stream;run unto the gate, and see what is toward, for there be some who smiteupon the gate with unwonted violence, and it is now past the curfew."

  When the abbat first spoke to me, I heard a mighty rapping, which I hadnot heard before, or had not heeded, being lost in a reverie as Iwatched my coronals on their voyage towards Sunning bridge; but when hislordship spake to me, I hurried across the narrow garden, and into thehouse, and up to the outer gate, where I found Humphrey, the oldjanitor, and none but he. Humphrey had opened the wicket, and had closedit again, before I came to the gate. "Felix, thou good boy of Sunning,"said he unto me, "thou art as nimble as the buck of the forest, and artever willing to make thy young limbs save the limbs of an old man, soprithee take this corbel, and bear it to my lord abbat's presenceforthwith, and bear it gently and with speed, for those who left it saidthere was delicate stuff within, which must not be shaken, but whichmust be opened by the lord abbat right soon. So take it, good Felix, forthere is no lay-brother at hand, and the weight is nought."

  I took up the corbel gently under my left arm, and began to stride withit to the abbat, down at the Kennet banks. I was presently there, foralbeit the corbel was of some size, the weight thereof was indeed asnothing.

  "So, so," said my lord abbat, as he espied me and my burthen, "What havewe here?"

  "Doubtless," said the then refectorarius, "some little donation from thefaithful. Venison is not as yet; but lamb is in high perfection at thisseason."

  "Nay," quoth the coquinarius, "from the shape of the wicker, I think itis rather some sizeable pike, sent down by our friends and brothers atPangbourne."

  "Bethinks me rather," said the lord abbat, waving his right hand overthe corbel (the jewels and bright gold of his finger-rings glittering inthe young moon as he did it), "bethinks me rather that it is a collationof simnels from our chaste sisters the nuns of Wargrave, who ever andanon do give a sign of life and love to us the Benedictines of ReadingAbbey. But open, Felix! cut the withies, and undo the basket-lid, andlet us see with our own eyes."

  As my curiosity was now at the least as great as that of any of mysuperiors in age and dignity, I cut the slight bindings, and undid thecorbel; and then there lay, uncovered and revealed to sight--the mostbeautiful babe mine eyes ever beheld withal!

  "Benedicamus!" said the lord abbat, gazing and crossing himself.

  "Miserere! The Lord have mercy upon us! But what thing have we here?"quoth the prior.

  "'Tis a marvellous pretty infant," said the limner from Pisa, "and woulddo to paint for one of the cherubim in the chapel of our Ladie."

  "A marvellously pretty devil," said our then sub-prior, a sourish man,and somewhat overmuch given to suspicious and evil thoughts of hisbrothers and neighbours: "What have we celibatarians and Benedictines todo with little babies? I smell mischief here--mischief and irregularity.Felix, what knowest thou of this corbel? I hope thou knowest not all toomuch! But know all or know nothing, why, oh boy, didst bring thisarcanum into this reverend company?"

  "Father," said I, "'twas Humphrey bade me bring it, and for all the restI know nothing;" and this being perfectly true, yet did I hold down myhead, for that I felt the blood all glowing in my face, not knowing howor why it should be so.

  "Bid the janitor to our presence," said the lord abbat.

  Humphrey, who had nothing doubted that the basket contained somecreature comforts, such as the faithful not unfrequently sent to ourhouse, soon appeared, and was not a little amazed to see the amazementof the monks, and the high displeasure of the abbat; for as age hadsomewhat dimmed his sight, and as the last gleams of twilight were nowdying away, the good janitor did not perceive the sleeping babe.

  "Humphrey," said the abbat, "what is this thou hast sent us? Tell me, inthe name of the saints, who gave thee this basket?"

  As the abbat spoke the infant awoke from its slumber, and began to cryout, and lay its arms about, as if feeling for its nurse; and hereat ourold janitor's wonderment being manifoldly increased, he started back,and crossed himself, and said, "Jesu Maria! Jesu Maria!"

  "Say what thou hast to say," cried our sacrist
; "my lord abbat wouldknow who left this corbel at the gate, and why thou didst take it in?"

  "But," said the old janitor, making that reverence to his superiorswhich he was bounden to do, "may I ask what it is that the corbelholds?"

  "A babe," said the prior.

  "And of the feminine gender--to make the matter worse," said the teacherof the Novices.

  "'Tis witchcraft," said Humphrey--"'tis nought but witchcraft! WhatChristian man, or woman either, could ever think of sending a babe tothe monks of Reading!"

  "But who sent the basket?" said the abbat.

  "That know I not," said old Humphrey, still crossing himself.

  "Then who left it with thee?" asked the sacrist.

  "Two serfs that I have seen at this house aforetime," saidHumphrey--"two honest-visaged churls, who were out of breath when theycame to the wicket, and who went away to the westward so soon as theyhad put the basket in my hands, and told me to handle it gently, andcarry it to my lord abbat forthwith."

  "And said they nothing more?" quoth the prior.

  "Yea, they did say there was delicate stuff within."

  "And what stuff didst thou think it was?" said the coquinarius.

  "Verily something to eat or drink."

  "Thou art stolid," said the sour sub-prior; "thou art stolid, ohHumphrey, to take a corbel from strange men. Wouldst know the serfsagain?"

  "I should know them again if I could but see them again. Seen them Ihave aforetime. Whose men they be I know not; but I thought I had seenthem before bring gifts and offerings to our house; and it is not in myoffice to open anything that is shut, except the convent-door; and illwould it have beseemed me to have been prying into a basket left for mylord abbat."

  "But said the churls nothing else?" asked the abbat. "Bethink thee, ohHumphrey! said the churls nought else?"

  "Methinks that when I asked them whose men they were, and who had sentthis present, one of them did make reply that my lord abbat would knowright well."

  Here all our eyes were bent upon the good abbat, who, to tell the truth,did look somewhat conturbated. But when the head of our house hadrecovered from this sudden emotion, he said to the janitor, "Were thosethe very words the man did speak?"

  "The matter of the words was that," said Humphrey; "yet I do think theslaves subjoined that if your lordship knew not who sent the gift, yourlordship would soon know right well. But as the churl was walking awaywhile he was speaking, I cannot say that these were his _ipsissimaverba_."

  "Janitor," quoth the abbat, "knowest thou what festival of mother churchit is we have celebrated this day?"

  "The feast of the blessed Saint Edbert," responded Humphrey, with agenuflexion and an _ora pro nobis_.

  "Then from this day forward," quoth the lord abbat, "take not and admitnot within these gates any donation or thing whatsoever from men thatthou knowest not, and that run from our door instead of tarrying torefresh themselves in the hospitium."

  "That last unwonted and unnatural fact," quoth the cellarer, "ought tohave warned thee, oh Humphrey, that there was mischief in the corbel."

  "But," replied the janitor, "it was past the time of even' prayer, nay,after supper-time; and they did place the basket in my hands, and vanishaway all in a minute, and I could not throw the corbel after them, norcould I leave it outside the gate. But mischief did I suspect none."

  Humphrey being dismissed, the elders of our house debated what had bestbe done with the child, which had not ceased crying all this while, andwhich moved my heart to pity, for it was a beautiful babe to look upon,and it seemed right hungry, and witchcraft could there be none about it;for our sub-prior, who had adventured to take it up in his arms, hadespied a little golden cross round its neck, and an Agnus Dei sewed toits clothes. The lord abbat, whose heart was always kind to man, woman,and child, nay, even unto the beasts in the stable and field, and thehounds of the chase, said that albeit it had been cast into a wrongplace, it was assuredly a sweet innocent and most Christian-lookingchild, and that as the hour was waxing very late, it would be well tokeep it in the house until the morrow morn. But the sub-prior bade hislordship bethink himself of the sex of the child, and of the rigid ruleof our order, which, in its strictest interpretation, would seem toimply that nothing of the sex feminine should ever abide by night withinour cloisters. "In spite of its cross and agnus," subjoined the soursuspicious man, "I must opine that this piping baby hath been senthither by some secret enemy, in order to bring down discredit andaspersions upon our community."

  "But what, in the name of the Virgin, wouldst have us do with the littleinnocent?" said the abbat.

  "Peradventure," quoth the sub-prior, "it were not badly done to set thebrat afloat in its basket down the Kennet into Thamesis. It may groundamong the rushes, and be found by the country people, or it may----"

  "Brother," said the abbat, "thy heart is waxing as hard as the flint ofour walls! I would not do that thing, or see it done, to escape all thecalumnies which all the evil tongues of England could heap upon me."

  "No, assuredly, nor would I," said the sub-prior; "for uponafter-thought it doth appear that the babe perchance might drown. Still,my lord abbat, it is not well that it should stay where it is, or thatthe townfolk of Reading should know that it hath been brought to ourdoor; for they have too many bad stories already, and some of them doremember the wicked marrying priests of the days of the Red King."

  "True, oh sub-prior," quoth the lord abbat; "true and well-bethought. Wemust not, therefore, send the child into Reading town; but I will haveit conveyed unto my good nephew at Caversham, and his wife will havecare of it until we shall learn whose babe it is, and why somysteriously sent hither. There is gentle blood in those veins; this isno churl's child. I never saw a more beautiful babe, and in my time Ihave baptized many an earl's daughter, ay, and more than one littleprincess. It must be a strange tale that which shall explain how themother could ever part with such an infant. But it grows dark; so,Philip, take up the basket, and bear it straightway and with all careand gentleness to Caversham; and Felix, do thou go with Philip, andsalute my kinsman in my name, and relate unto him the strange andmarvellous manner in which the basket hath been brought into our house,and tell him I will see him in the morning after service."

  Philip was an honest lay-brother of the house, and between him and methere had always been much friendship; for on my first coming to theabbey, to be trained to religion and learning, he had procured manylittle indulgences for me, and had ofttimes taken me behind him on hishorse when he rode towards Sunning to look after a farm which my lordabbat had near to that place. He was a mirthful man, and so fond oftalk, that when he had not me riding behind him he usually discoursedall the way with his horse. Now he took up the corbel with as muchgentleness as a lady's nurse, and we began to go on our way, the dearchild still piping and bewailing. The sub-prior followed us to the gateto give Humphrey the needful order to open, for at that hour the janitorwould not have allowed egress to any lay-brother or novice. "Beshrewme," said old Humphrey as the sub-prior withdrew, "but this foundlinghath brought trouble upon me and sharp words; yet let me see its face,good Philip, for I hear 'tis a Christian child, and a lovely ..."

  Hereupon we took the basket into Humphrey's cell by the gate, where alight was burning; and the janitor having peered in its face, vowed, asothers had done, that he had not seen so fair a babe. "'Tis nine monthsold, at the very least," said he; "and ye may tell by its shrill pipingthat 'tis a strong and healthy child. Mayhap it cries for hunger;" andat this timeous thought the old janitor brought forth a little milk andhoney and gave it to the babe, who partook thereof, and then smiled anddropped fast asleep.

  We took the shortest path across the King's Mead to Caversham bridge. Aswe walked along Philip ceased not from talking about the child and theunprecedented way in which it had been left at the abbey. Being a manmuch given to speculation and the putting of this thing and thattogether, he made sundry surmises which I will not repeat, for theytouched the good lord abb
at, and the next morning proved that thoughvery ingenious they had no foundation in truth. When we came to the longwooden bridge, we found, as we had expected, that part of it was raised,and that the old man that levied the toll for the baron was fast asleep.But our shouting soon roused the toll-man, and he soon challenged us andlowered the draw-bridge, though not without sundry expressions ofastonishment that two monks should be abroad at so late an hour. When wetold him whither we were going, he bade us make haste, for the lightswere disappearing in the mansion, and the family would soon be buried insleep. He then lowered the draw-bridge at the other end, and we went ontowards the hill side with hasty steps, the only light visible in themansion being one that shone brightly through the casement of thesouthern turret.

  "Ralpho, the toll-man," said I, "must have been more than half asleep,or assuredly he would have asked what we were carrying in the basket atthis time o'night."

  "May the babe have an extra blessing," quoth Philip, "for that it sleepson and did not wake on the bridge! A pretty tale would gossip Ralphohave had to tell about us Benedictines if the babe had set up its pipingon the bridge!"

  The castellum or baronial mansion stood on the top of Caversham hill atthe point where that hill is steepest; the village lay at its feet, andthe church then stood midway between the castle and the village. Wewere soon at the edge of the dry moat; but the draw-bridge was up, andwe had to shout and blow the cow-horn for some time before we could makeourselves heard by any one within; and when the warder awoke and lookedforth he was in no good humour. But as we made ourselves known, and toldhim that we came from the lord abbat upon an occasion that brooked nodelay, he altered his tone; and after telling us that though bedward, hebelieved his lord and ladie were not yet in bed, as he could see a lightin their bower above, he lowered the draw-bridge and unbarred thewicket. That which Ralpho had omitted to do on the bridge, the warderdid under the gateway of the castle; for, pointing to the basket, hesaid, "What have we here, brother Philip? Cates and sweetmeats for mylord and ladie? Ay, Reading Abbey is famed for its confections!"

  He had scarcely said the words when a noise came from the basket whichmade him start back and cross himself; for the dear child began to pipeand scream, and much more loudly methought that I had heard it dobefore. We, however, stayed not to talk with the astonished warder; fora waiting-woman had come down from the southern turret to inquire whatwas toward, and we followed this good woman, who was still moreastonished than the warder, to the chamber where the lord and ladiewere. Sir Alain de Bohun was a bountiful lord, ever kind of heart andgentle in speech; and the Ladie Alfgiva, his wife, descended from theSaxon thanes who had once owned and held all the country from Cavershamto Maple-Durham, was the gentlest, truest ladie, and at this season oneof the fairest that lived anywhere in Berkshire or Oxfordshire. Beforehearing the short tale we had to tell, Sir Alain vowed that the littlestranger was welcome, and that so sweet a foundling should never wanthome or nurture while he had a roof-tree to sit under; and the ladietook the child in her arms, and kissed it, and pacified it; and before Ihad gotten half through my narration, and the message from my lordabbat, the babe went to sleep on the ladie's bosom. Our limner from Pisaought to have seen that sight; for the Madonna and Child he didafterwards paint for the chapel of our Ladie was not so beautiful andtender a picture as that presented to mine eye by the wife of Sir Alainde Bohun and our little foundling. Much marvelled the gentle ladie atthe tale; but her other feelings were stronger than her curiosity andastonishment; and she soon withdrew to place the child with her own dearchildren--a little boy some four or five years old, and a little girlnot many months older than the stranger. Sir Alain gave to thelay-brother Philip a piece of money, and to me a beaker of wine, and sodismissed us with a right courteous message to our abbat and his goodand right reverend uncle.

  The warder would have stayed us to explain how it was that monks wentabout in the hours of night with a babe in a basket; but as he had asharp wit and a ribald tongue, we forbore to answer his questions, andrecommending him to the saints that keep watch by night, and telling himit was too late for talk, we began to return rapidly by the way we hadcome. As Ralpho let us across Caversham bridge he bemoaned the hardnessof his life, and complained that Sir Alain put him to much unnecessarytrouble in a time of peace and tranquillity, when the bridge might verywell be left open by night and by day without fear of the passage offoes. Alack! before the next morning dawned Ralpho was made to know thatSir Alain's caution was very needful. Scarcely had Philip and I gotten arood from the bridge-end when that honest lay-brother shouted "Fire!Fire! a fire!" and looking to the west, the sky behind the town andhills of Reading seemed all in a blaze. The young moon had set; but aswe came to the King's Mead our path was lighted by a glaring red light,which seemed every instant to become stronger and redder. "Eheu!" saidPhilip, who knew every township better than I then knew my Litany;"Eheu! there is mischief afoot! The flames mount in the direction ofTilehurst and Sulham and Charlton! More than one township is a-burning!"

  I looked down the river, and joyed to see that there was no sign ofconflagration at Sunning, and returned thanks therefore to my patronsaint.

  We were now running across the mead as fast as we could run; but beforewe came to the abbey-gate the alarm-bell rung out from the tower, and aloud shouting and crying came from the town of Reading, and the soundsof another alarm-bell from Sir Alain's castellum at Caversham.

  "What can this mean?" said Philip. "The two serfs that brought the babeto our house came from the westward, or did go back in that direction,or so said old Humphrey. After twenty years and more of a happy peace,is this land to be wasted again by factions and civil war?"

  Alas! Philip had said it! This night witnessed the beginning of thosetroubles which carried woe into every part of England, and which endednot until sixteen long years had passed over our heads, sending some ofour brotherhood with sorrow to the grave, and making others old menbefore their time; for, to say nothing of our personal sufferings andhazards, there was not one among us but had a brother or a sister andfriends near and dear to him tortured or butchered in these the worstwars that were ever waged in England.

  When we returned into the abbey we found that the lord abbat had calledup his men-at-arms, and the three good knights who did military servicefor the abbey in return for the lands they held; that one of theseknights and divers of the men-at-arms were mounting and about to goforth; and that the better conditioned of the town people of Readingwere already bringing their goods and chattels to our house forprotection; for the walls of the town had been allowed to fall into ruinduring the long and happy peace which Henricus Primus had kept in theland, and our burghers had almost wholly lost the art military. Some ofthese men, who had been to the hills, said that the whole country was onfire from Inglesfield to Tilehurst, and from Tilehurst to Purley, whichnews destroyed the hope our good abbat had been entertaining that thefire might be accidental and confined to the thatch-covered houses ofone village or township. And, in very deed, by this time the whole westseemed to be burning, and the welkin to be overcast by smoke and flame,and a reflected lurid and horrible light. The swift stream of the Kennetlooked as though its waters had been transmuted into red wine, and thebroad Thamesis shined like a path of fire. No eye closed for sleep inthe abbey that night; and it was not until a full hour after thescarcely perceptible dawn of day that certain intelligence was broughtus as to the causes and parties which had thus begun to turn ourpleasant and fruitful land into a wilderness.