Long Will

by Florence Converse

  III

  Kingdoms Not of This World

  Brother Owyn sat in the cloister-garth in the shadow of the sun-dial,his little colour-pots on a flat stone beside him, his vellum on aboard across his knees. A ring of narcissus-flowers, close-plantedround the sun-dial, starred the edge of his black gown.

  Brother Owyn was a poet, and the prior of Malvern had found this out.When less favoured brothers grumbled the abbot chid them with, "Whatneed hath a copy-clerk of sunshine and fair flowers to fresh hiswit,--that hath no wit? But how may a true poet, and a right trueromancer, make his melody with the din of a dozen schoolboys knockingat his ear?" And for this cause did Brother Owyn sit with his feetamong the narcissus-flowers.

  Here he had written at the bidding of the prior--but this prior was adull man--two homilies: the one concerning Chastity, which was avirtue wherein Brother Owyn excelled,--and this the prior knew, for hehad confessed him; the other concerning Patience, wherein Brother Owynexcelled not at all, and none knew this better than himself,--albeithe passed for a patient man. But, indeed, there was little known ofBrother Owyn among the brethren. They said that no man might so tellthe stormy mishap of Jonah, except he had sailed the sea; and no manmight so sing Belshazzar's Feast except he had dined in a king'spalace; and when they had heard the tale of Sir Gawaine and the GreenKnight, they averred that haply Brother Owyn came of Arthur's family,and some said that he was own great-grandson to Sir Gawaine. ButBrother Owyn never said so. He was abashed that the brethren wouldhear this tale more often than the homilies.

  "I will do penance," said Brother Owyn, "for that I divert thebrethren."

  "Yea," quoth the prior, "assuredly! Wherefore, copy out this romance,and paint in the beginning of each part an initial letter in gold andscarlet and blue."--The prior had his gleams in the midst of hisdulness.

  But the tale that Brother Owyn loved best he had not yet sung to thebrethren.

  To-day he painted a little picture of a maiden by a river-side, whereshining cliffs rose up, and a city shone golden beyond. And thesecliffs might well have been the white cliffs of Wales, but they weremeant for a more holy place. And the maiden was clad in a whitegarment with a semblance of pearls at her girdle and on her fairforehead.

  "A crown that maiden wore withal bedecked with pearls, with none other stones,"

  whispered Brother Owyn.

  "Her look was grave, as a duke's or an earl's; whiter than whalebone was her hue. Her locks shone then as bright pure gold,-- loose on her shoulders so softly they lay,"--

  There was a trick of his tongue that ever betrayed him that he cameout of the west,--and bending, he kissed the little picture where thepaint had dried.

  From the cloister floated the low, buzzing murmur of children conninga task. This, and the snip-snip of the gardener's shears, were theonly sounds. At intervals, good Brother Paul went past the cloisterdoorway in his slow pacing up and down behind the young scholars. Nowand again a lad came out into the garth and crossed the grass to gainBrother Owyn's approval for an illuminated letter, or to have thehexameters lopped off his Latin hymn.

  Then, around three sides of the cloister swift footsteps echoed, andthe dreamer strode down the school, brushed past Brother Paul, lookedout into the garth, and presently stood before Brother Owyn,--thelight of the vision shining in his eyes, the mist of the Malvernsclinging about his damp hair.

  "I go forth a pilgrimage to Truth," he said.

  "And the prior withhold not his blessing," added Brother Owyn, with asmile.

  But the dreamer fell on his knees,--he was past smiling. He laid hishands prayerwise upon the little painting-board; and Brother Owyn,intent upon him wholly, with the loving, expectant eyes of one to whomthese raptures were no new thing, yet slipped aside the vellum fromthe board, lest the picture come to harm from the dew-stained russet.

  "I am no monk of Malvern!" cried the dreamer; "neither shall the priorclap me in cloister. I have had a vision. I must sing it."

  "I sing," said Brother Owyn; and he looked about him at the grass andthe cloister walls.

  "Yea, of yesterday and its glory," returned the dreamer. "A tunefulsong, whereof the joy and the rightwisnesse is manifest. But to-dayand to-morrow are mine to sing. I must go forth to look upon the worldand live therein. I have had a vision concerning Peter theploughman,"--Brother Owyn's eyes laughed mockingly, and his lipscurled, also he tapped his foot upon the ground. But the dreamer'seyes were on the narcissus-flowers,--"I have seen him in the forefrontof a great train of pilgrimage, of all kind people ever there were inthis earth; and he their guide to Truth. He, a poor ploughman! I haveseen him where he set all crooked ways straight; and the flower o'knighthood did the bidding o' the ploughman in the vision. Now, tellme,--what abbot is he in all England will give me leave to sing thissong over his abbey wall? For he holdeth the land in fee, and thevilleins sweat for him.--Nay, more,"--and the dreamer bent his lips toBrother Owyn's ear and sunk his voice,--"I have seen this Piers wherehe jousted in Jesus' armor, red as with blood,--and in His likeness.Hark you, master, the day is to the poor man. For Jesus Christ, ofpoor men the Prince,--He saith, 'I am the Truth.'"

  "An I knew thee not this five year," quoth Brother Owyn, "I had saidthou art mad,--mad from very pride. The ploughman a leader of men!Wilt thou bring chaos about our ears? Oh, boy, foolish and proud! Godhath ordered the way of man and it is thus and so. He is Emperor ofheaven and earth, and Christ is King's Son of heaven and sitteth up onhigh at the right hand of the Father. Of right royal human seed hespringeth, David's seed,--born in David's city. At His name every kneeshall bow. Kings have worshipped Him a babe. What! wilt thou strikedown the very immutable and fixed laws of God Himself whereby He hathordained that kings shall reign? Prate not to me of poor men. Yea,there shall be hewers of wood and drawers of water."

  Then said the dreamer: "Whether is greater, he that sitteth at meat orhe that serveth?"

  "The king is the perfectest servant," cried Brother Owyn, "but theking is king, he is no dullard serf. The King's Son came to earth andput on this garment of a poor man, and for this reason wilt thou saythe poor man shall wear the garment of the king? Thou art noschoolman."

  "Ah, master, master, this that thou sayst I said it again and yetagain to mine own self," the dreamer sighed; "for what know I of lifewherein is no kings and no knighthood? Verily it is thus and so; Godmade the king. So did I cry to the vision, wrestling the night throughon the misty hill. I cannot see clear, but whether I be convinced orno, the vision hath conquered and I must sing it. The ploughmanknoweth the way to truth; the king shall crave his company."

  "Nay, thou dost not see clear. I doubt me if ever thou wilt," saidBrother Owyn. "Thou hast got the Malvern mist in thy head, boy. Whoshall profit by a vision in a mist?"

  "'T is larger than life, seen thus," quoth the dreamer. "Natheless,let me go forth into a new land. How may I rid me of the mist if Idwell within it? Let me go to London, and if the vision fade, if it beproven a temptation, I 'll cast it from me. How may I know men in thewilderness? How may I touch their hearts if I know them not?"

  Brother Owyn smiled and laid his hand upon the dreamer's shoulder:"And art thou crying out for knowledge of men?--Thou that fleest intothe hills if a merchant ask night's shelter of the prior, thou thathast played truant these three days because, forsooth, the youngPrince Lionel and his train are come hither to hunt in the King'sForest?"

  The dreamer hung his head: "Yet must I go," he said. "There came alittle lad across the round hill yesterday,--a very manikin of wisdomwith the heart of a child,--no doubt they breed such in palaces. Heboasted himself a poet and would have me tell him a tale. Hequarrelled with the measure, his ear being attuned to French foibles,but for that I care not; but he saith my men be no better than dollsof wood.--Master, 't is a true word. Whether the vision be false orno, God will discover to me; but this, that I am not fit to touchmen's hearts, because I am stranger to them,--thou knowest.
The littlelad turned away from my tale. He laughed.--Thou hast seen thy world.Thou hast a tale to tell. But I,--what may I sing but themist? Hark you, Brother Owyn, I shall bring naught of glory to MalvernPriory till I be let forth. Say this to the prior."

  "There is wisdom in it, truly," said the monk. "Thou art not all fool,and poet. Natheless, thou canst not come at knowledge my way. What Iwas needs not to remember, but I was not such as thou, I climbed notupward to my present estate. But thou must climb through the church,'t is thy one way. With thy little learning what art thou fit forelse? Doth it suit thee to turn ploughman?"

  The dreamer looked at his scholar's hands and wiped his scholar'sbrow: "But I will not climb as a monk," he cried. "There 's work to doout-o'-doors to make the church clean. Let me go!"

  Then Brother Owyn wiped his brushes on the grass and covered hislittle paint pots; and to a boy that came forth of the cloister hesaid: "I have business with the prior, keep thy task till I comeagain;" and rising up he made so as to lay a cloth of fair linen overthe little picture.

  "Who is 't?" asked the dreamer, and gazing, he minded him of the daywhen Brother Owyn came first to Malvern Priory. He was a knight thatday; his mail was silver; he rode a white horse; in his helmet therewas set a great pearl in the midst of a ringlet of gold hair, onering, as 't were severed from the head of a babe.

  "Who is 't?" quoth the dreamer.

  And Brother Owyn answered him: "Neither do I write but onlyyesterdays. I have my vision of the morrow. 'T is of a Holy City, andthe Lord is King thereof. 'T is a true vision, for John, the beloved,he had it afore my time."

  "But this is a fair damsel," said the dreamer.

  "This is my little daughter dear, that was dead at two years old. TheKing hath chosen her for his bride. I live seeking after her."

  "Here, likewise, hast thou fellowship with thy kind," the dreamersighed. "Little wonder thy songs touch the hearts of men. Master, thouhast my confession this five year; thou knowest me, that I am no hotman; yet, do I yearn to fathom these mysteries, for fellowship's sake,and to help all them that seek truth. But how may a man climb tofatherhood through Holy Church?"

  Brother Owyn laid his hand on the dreamer's lip, and "Hush!" said he;"here's question for one higher than I, and to be spoke whispering.For all the man I am to Godward, am I by the love of a little twoyears' child, long dead. Go; say thy prayers! I 'll come to thee inthe church. Haply the prior may give thee a letter to a London priest,will see thee clerked and set to earn, thy bread."

  But then Brother Owyn looked on the little picture where it layuncovered, and he said:--

  "If thou hast ever a golden-haired daughter, send her hither to tellme wherein God hath blessed thee most."

  And that day the dreamer set forth on his pilgrimage.

  PART I

  The Malcontents

  "For one Pieres the Ploughman hath inpugned us alle."

  _The Vision Concerning Piers Plowman._ B. PASSUS XIII.