The Last of the Vikings

by John Bowling

  CHAPTER XXXV.

  THE SAXON DEVIL AND THE WICKED ABBOT.

  "When night Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine."

  Milton.

  Most humiliating and distressing to us _Saxon_ monks was the state oflax morality in which these foreign monks lived. One of the worst vicesimported into England by the Normans was that of uncleanness, a vicepractically unknown amongst Saxons, and looked upon by them with greatabhorrence. This was an offence, too, which the hardy Norsemen regardedwith loathing. Fierce and blood-thirsty as they were, seduction,adultery, and the violation of the sanctity of blood-relationship, theydetested. Amongst the Normans, not only the wild troopers, but the monksalso, lived loose, irregular lives; and the chief and vilest offender,in this respect, was our new Abbot. Many were the outrages perpetratedby this man. Night by night, under cover of the darkness, he issued fromthe Monastery with lascivious intent, often accompanying his outrages bycrime and bloodshed if he met with opposition. In vain I sought theassistance of Alice, who entreated the Count, her father; but he waseither powerless, or cynical and indifferent--probably both. Sometimes afierce check was given to these scoundrels by a sudden outburst of rageand revenge on the part of the Saxons; but for the most part, the Saxonswho meekly submitted to serfdom were the most abject of their race,being often so broken in spirit that they submitted to unfathomableindignities, rather than face the consequences of opposition. Indeed,any display of spirit, and any act of retaliation or revenge, was sureto be followed by the most cruel vindictiveness, and most sweepingpunishment. I stay to note one act of retaliation done to our Abbot byBadger, on one occasion, when the Abbot was bent on carrying hisunscrupulous violence to the cottage of one of the serfs. I note itbecause of its comicality, as well as its effectiveness in punishing thevicious priest.

  Now the Abbot, though it will scarcely be believed, was, in spite of histurbulent wickedness, a most abjectly superstitious man, as indeed mostignorant and wicked people are. Of this fact Badger, who was a mostobservant and shrewd judge of character, quickly became aware; and,taking advantage of this weakness, he used it to teach the Abbot a mostvaluable and salutary lesson. One of the serfs had frequently made mostdoleful complaints to Badger of the violation of the sanctities of hishome by this man. Now Badger most cordially hated the Abbot, as indeedany one who knew the man could not fail to do; and on the other hand,his sympathies, either openly or veiled, were always extended to hiscountrymen, and he frequently wrought substantial amelioration in theirlot. Badger turned this matter over in his mind, and at last hit upon aplan which he conceived would have the desired effect if successfullycarried out. So, making use of his old expedient, he decked himself mostfantastically as the Saxon "Zernebock" or devil. He expended much skilland ingenuity in the manufacture of some wondrously grotesque apparel,introducing a pair of horns and a tail after the orthodox fashion. Inaddition to this, he had also decked out one of the most savage of hishounds in a most fantastic garb, and, so disguised and ludicrouslytricked out, they sallied forth at eventime, intent on frustrating theAbbot's vile intentions. Having selected their place of ambush, theypatiently lay in wait for the object of their enterprise, bent both onterrifying and worrying him into a relinquishment of his devilishpurpose.

  The night selected as fitting for Badger's enterprise was moonless andsomewhat dark, especially so within the added shade of the forest.Having selected a suitable place, Badger lay quietly in wait until heheard the approaching footsteps of the Abbot; then he strode into thepath with the hound by his side, and together they fronted the object oftheir quest. Great was the consternation of the Abbot when he confrontedthis awful apparition. His knees smote together, and his teeth chatteredin his head, as the awful voice of the fiend accosted him in angrytones.

  "Abbot, I know thy errand; I am the Saxon devil 'Zernebock,' and this ismy Hel-hound. I have come to kill thee, and my hound will tear thee inpieces, for thy cup of wickedness is now full; I give thee, therefore,two minutes in which to prepare for death."

  So saying, the fiend uplifted a mighty sword, which seemed to the Abbotto tower almost to the height of the trees. It was a wooden one, but thenight was too dark for this to be perceived, even if the victim had notbeen too terror-stricken to note it.

  In a terrible fright he fell on his knees and began to call upon all thesaints to protect him, writhing and groaning piteously.

  "Silence!" said the fiend in still more awful tones. "Thou must die! Ihave been waiting long for permission to slay thee! The saints will notprotect thee any longer, for thou hast professed to be a holy man, andthou art bent this night on an errand of wickedness, and I havepermission to kill thee at last. Thy life is now in my hands. Art thouready?" again roared the fiend in savage tones, whilst the hound, seeingthe threatening attitude of his master, waxed furious, snarling andgrowling savagely, and making many half-executed attempts to fly at theAbbot, which half a word of encouragement from the fiend would havecompleted. "Speak!" said the fiend, "thy time is now expired."

  And the uplifted sword began most ominously to sway to and fro, asthough about to fall.

  "Have mercy on me, fiend!" screamed the Abbot, "and I will make a vow tothee that I will repent me of my sins, and I will cease from fleshlylusts! I will set about mortifying my flesh this very night! I vow toabstain from meats and strong drink for the space of twelve months ifthou wilt have mercy on me."

  "Silence when I bid thee!" again roared the fiend. "I know thee for ahypocrite, and thou wilt not abide thy vow. Art thou ready? Quick! bowthy head, so that I cut it off clean."

  Quick as thought in this dire strait the Abbot sprang to his feet, andfled with miraculous energy for one so stout and pursy.

  "Hist! hist!" said the fiend to his hound.

  There was a fierce growl and a few long, slouching strides, and thehound grasped the Abbot's nether parts in his powerful jaws; and with ayell of pain his reverence fell prone upon his face, writhing, groaning,wriggling, and yelling, as though ten thousand fiends clutched him. Butthe hound clung to him like a vice, chawing his struggling prey the morelustily as he tried to shake him off. At last the fiend called off hishound; but at the same time he lifted his sword over the prostrateAbbot.

  "It is no use thy attempting to fly; thy doom is come, and I am here tokill thee. Choose at once whether thou wilt be torn in pieces by myhound or slain by my fiery sword; there is no escape for thee."

  "Have mercy, fiend!" groaned the Abbot piteously; "thy hound hathwell-nigh killed me already. His teeth are red hot, as thou wellknowest. I shall surely die now, after the savage manner he hath tornme. In mercy leave me the little time left me for repentance. Think ofmy poor soul."

  "I am the foul fiend, and there is no mercy now for thee. Thy soul isforfeited and given into my hands; but what of thy body? decide quick!Shall I kill thee, or wilt thou be devoured by my hound?"

  Just at that moment, however, the fiend was interrupted, for footstepsand voices were heard approaching, and presently a couple of troopers,attracted by the terrible howling of the Abbot, drew near. As they didso the fiend and his hound promptly disappeared in the wood.

  As these troopers timidly and fearfully advanced to the spot, to theirconsternation they beheld the Abbot lying flat along, and bellowing likeany bull of Bashan, and calling upon the saints to come to help him. Atonce he was recognised by the pair.

  "Ho, your reverence! what is this? What ails you?"

  "Now the saints be praised! the foul fiend is fled; the Blessed Virginhath sent me help, but too tardily, for I am surely done for. Themischief is ended, and I shall surely die. Had ye tarried but one minutemore, my poor body would have been devoured also."

  "What is it, your reverence! Have you been attacked by wolves?"

  "Alas! I have been set upon by the wolf of hell; I have met face to facein this very spot the foul fiend. 'Twas the Saxon devil Zernebock, forhe spoke Saxon. He and his furious Hel-hou
nd hath set upon me together.The fiend was about to kill me with his fiery sword when ye drew near soopportunely; and his hound hath torn me dreadfully. His teeth were redhot, and he spouted fire out of his fearful mouth. Can ye lift me up?for I hardly know whether he hath left me any legs to stand upon. Oh!not there! not there! did I not tell you he had torn me fearfullybehind. Lift me by the shoulder, but do not touch me behind. Steady, yemaudlin villains! did I not tell ye to be steady?" he roared mostsavagely.

  "I think your reverence had better let me go for help; my comrade willstand by ye till I come again," remarked one trooper.

  "Stay ye where ye are, villain! Ye do not stir from me, either of ye,not a yard! If the fiend come again the other one will run also, and Ishall be slain and devoured. Lift me up, ye lazy louts! ye are wellable."

  By dint of tugging and lifting, eventually they set the Abbot on hislegs; but he could not bear to walk, neither could he bear to becarried; and he would not be left for a moment. Slowly he made an effortto shamble along, but every step was torture to him, and he swore at thetwo troopers as roundly as in his extremity he had prayed to the saints.It was a most painful and protracted home-coming to all of them; for theAbbot clutched his deliverers most tenaciously, terrified almost intofrenzy if there was a rustle in the bushes, and conjured up visions ofthe fiend and his hound in every object that met his gaze; whilst allthe while he vented upon the two his spleen and rage, sometimes fortheir clumsiness and want of sympathy, and at other times for theirhaving been so long in coming to his aid.

  With infinite trouble they at last reached the Abbey, and the Abbot wasput to bed; but when there he was obliged to lie upon his stomach, forthe hound had severely mauled him behind. Two of the monks were setapart to nurse him by night, and two by day. The rest of the monks werecommanded to spend so many hours of each day in prayers and ininvocations, whilst penances and fasting were imposed upon all.

  In time, by dint of careful nursing, the Abbot was restored. But hecould not so easily forget the painful lesson he had learnt; and as hestill firmly believed that it was indeed the Saxon devil Zernebock andhis Hel-hound that had set upon him, he never dared venture abroad afterdark until he had banished the fiend from the adjacent woods.

  Then ensued the most comical part of the whole affair. A procession ofthe monks to the place of adventure was organised. One headed the solemnprocession bearing a crucifix on which our blessed Lord was impaled.Others followed next in order bearing the sacred relics, most of whichhad been brought from Normandy, and consisted of bones of eminent saintsof the order, also a shred of the garment of our Saviour, the identicalone for which the soldiers cast lots. One carried a front tooth of theapostle Peter, said to have been broken out at the last supper of ourLord; and another had a small vial containing a portion of the tearswhich Peter shed at the denial, when "he went out and wept bitterly";the last had possession of a pair of straps or leathern thongs, said tohave been used to fasten the sandals of the Apostle John when he dweltin the lonely isle of Patmos. But most laughable it was to see Badgerand several of the lay brothers of the monastery following behind, withlarge ewers containing holy water, with which the monks plentifullybesprinkled the path and its surroundings; all the while chanting psalmsand repeating prayers for the exorcism of the devil and all evil spiritsthat haunted the woods.

  One can imagine the uncontrollable delight with which Badger assisted atthis solemn function. And I confess when he told me the whole story Icould not help but laugh most immoderately, though such levity scarcelybecame my office, especially when I remembered that our sacred thingshad been associated with so ridiculous an exploit. Though I can scarcelyundertake to excuse the deception practised upon this occasion, yet ithad a most salutary effect upon the Abbot, for seldom after thatincident did he venture, under cover of the night, to prosecute hisvillainies; though, like most vile and wicked persons, he found othermeans of giving rein to his lusts, which were infamous and cruel.