by A. D. Crake
CHAPTER VI. A REVELATION.
The night was growing dark when Wilfred approached the priory, withthe intention of seeking Father Elphege, and putting, as Pierre hadsaid, "his spiritual gear in order."
As we have remarked in other pages, men then attached no notion ofsin to the mere act of fighting--there could not be a duty clearerto Christians of that strange epoch than to fight with each otherwhensoever the exigencies of society demanded--the very institutionof knighthood was bound up with the idea.
So he had no anticipation that the good father would say, "Don'tfight."
But when he approached the great door of the priory, with thevenerable figure of the patron saint bending over the archway, amessenger--a lay brother--issued forth.
It was almost dark, but the man recognised Wilfred.
"Is it thou, Wilfred of Aescendune, in the flesh?"
"I am he."
"Then I am glad to see thee, for thus my limbs are saved the toilof seeking thee, and my rheumatics make me dread the night air."
"Seeking me?"
"Yes, verily; the good prior desireth thee earnestly, and adjuredme to fetch thee without delay; and lo! Saint Cuthbert hath sentthee."
What could the prior want of him? thought the lad; had he heard ofthe quarrel, through young Eadwin, and did he disapprove of it?
At all events, he would be saved the trouble of many words; and heentered.
He passed along the cloister, with its ceiling of carved wood andits rude wooden crucifix at the end thereof; he looked out at thelittle green square of grass, enclosed by the quadrangle, whereinreposed in peace the monks of former generations. Once the thoughtflashed over him, that a similar little grassy hillock might, ere afew hours were over, be raised above his own earthly remains; butthat did not shake his purpose.
He ascended a spiral staircase and entered the prior's own cell.
"What, Wilfred! and so soon? Sooth to say, my messenger hath sped."
"He met me just outside the gate, father."
"By the blessing of heaven, my son."
"But why hast thou sent for me, and why this haste?"
"A dying man wishes to see thee--nay, do not start! he has a sadconfession to make--one it will harrow thy blood to hear, and hecannot die in peace without thy forgiveness."
"My forgiveness! How has he injured me? He is a Norman, I suppose?"
"Nay, he belongeth not to the proud race of our oppressors; he isan old serf of thy house. Dost thou remember Beorn the woodman?"
"Who slew the deer and sold them in secret, and when the deed wasdiscovered, fled?"
"The same; it is he."
"But what harm hath he done so great that he should come here toask forgiveness? 'Twas a small matter; at least, it seems so now."
"My son, that is not the matter he hath to confess."
"What is it, then?"
"Prepare thyself, my dear child; now be composed; you must resignyourself to God's will."
"Tell me, father, and end this suspense. What is amiss?"
"Nay, he must do that; I wanted to prepare thee; but tis about thymother."
Wilfred turned pale at once and trembled, for the one passion whichdivided his soul with hatred to the Normans was love for the memoryof his parents. What had the man got to say about his mother?
"But this is not constancy and firmness--thou quakest like an aspenleaf."
"Tell me, was aught amiss in my mother's death?"
"Didst thou ever suspect it?"
"Yes, but I put the thought away, as though it came from Satan."
"Well, poor child, thou wilt know now, and God help thee to bear itrightly."
Trembling and astonished, Wilfred followed the prior into anadjoining cell, where, propped up by cushions, lay the attenuatedform of a dying man--the death sweat already on his brow, standingthereon in beads--the limbs rigid as a recent convulsion had leftthem.
Any one conversant in the signs which immediately precede deathcould have told that he had but a short time to live. The goodmonk, who was supporting him and breathing words of Christian hopeinto his ears, left him as the prior and Wilfred entered.
The prior took the monk's place, and supported the head of thepenitent.
"Look," he said, as he raised him upon his arm, "Wilfred ofAescendune, the son of thy late lord."
The poor wretch groaned--such a deep hollow groan.
"Canst thou forgive me?" he said.
"Forgive thee what?"
"Tell him all, my son, and ease thy burdened mind."
The thrall then spake, in words interrupted by gasps and sighs,which we must needs omit as we piece his narrative together for thebenefit of our readers.
"It is five years since I fled thy father's face, fearing hiswrath, for I had slain his red deer and sold them for filthy lucre.Woe is me! I had better have trusted to his mercy and borne myfitting punishment; but, as Satan tempted me, I fled to the greatcity, where men are crowded together thick as bees in swarmingtime, to hide myself amongst many. There I was like to starve, andnone gave me to eat, when a Jew who saw my distress, took pity onme and gave me shelter.
"His name was Abraham of Toledo, a city far off over the salt sea,whence he had come to our English shores in the hope of gain; andhe was mighty in magic arts and in compounding of deadly drugs toslay, or medicines to make alive. I became his servant, for I hadnought else to do, and I blew his forge when he mixed strangemetals, swept his chamber, mixed his medicines as ordered, and didall an ignorant man might do at his master's bidding."
"The wretch! he should be burnt," said the prior, who, like mostEnglishmen of his day, confounded all such researches with theblack art; "didst thou ever see the devil there?"
"I did, indeed!"--the prior started--"but it was a Norman fiend,and his name Hugo of Aescendune."
"How!" Wilfred exclaimed, as he started violently.
"Silence, dear son, thou shalt soon hear," said Father Elphege."Summon thy courage."
"One evening I was mixing some drugs in my master's laboratory, ina recess hidden from the rest of the room by a curtain, whichhappened to be drawn, when my master entered the room in companywith a stranger.
"'Here, then, is the drug you seek; but it will be very costly--menmust pay dear for vengeance,' said Abraham of Toledo.
"'It may not be vengeance, but an obstacle which I wish to removefrom my path.'
"'That liquid was distilled by myself from many strange plants infar-off Araby; I may never replace it, and it is worth many piecesof gold.'
"'Thou shalt have them if thou wilt swear, thou dog of a Jew, thatit possesses all the qualities thou hast said. If it fails, look tothyself; I am not one to be played with.'
"'The victim who takes but one drop daily shall decline and diewithin the half of a year; in half that time if the dose bedoubled; a quarter if quadrupled.'
"'And no one shall detect the cause?'
"'Call the most learned physicians ye Christians have (dolts arethey all), and they shall call it a natural death--consumption--sogradually shall the patient wear away.'
"'I will trust thee; here is the gold.'
"I had seen the man's face through the curtain; but no sooner washe gone than my master descended the stairs, calling for me. Imanaged to reach him without raising his suspicion, and he pointedout the figure of his visitor receding in the distant gloom of thestreet.
"'Follow and learn who he is.'
"I followed and dogged him to his lodging--it was the present lordof Aescendune.
"I knew of his marriage--I felt sure whom he wanted to destroy; yetI did not dare show myself at Aescendune, even to save so innocenta life--the life of so sweet and good a lady as she had ever been.But at length disease--an incurable disease--seized me, and thedread of approaching death and judgment has brought me to tell whatit freezes my heart to say--all too late to save, but not perhapsto avenge--I tell thee thy mother was poisoned, O Wilfred ofAescendune!"
"Tell me what would be the signs of the drug?
"
"If dropped in water, it would, although colourless, impart a bluetinge to the liquid."
Wilfred hid his face in his hands and sobbed aloud.
"Dost thou forgive me?" said the dying thrall.
"Thou mightest have saved her, yet I do forgive thee."
"I might; it was my sin, and she was my liege lady, the gentlestand kindest."
"Thou art forgiven; but oh! my father! who shall do justice on themurderer, the poisoner?"
"That is thy task; the son must avenge his mother's blood, and dojustice on the murderer. Listen, Wilfred: Dost thou remember BishopGeoffrey of Coutances?"
"Well," said the poor boy, "he married them; but he, too, is aNorman--they are all alike."
"Nay, there be wise and good men amongst them, and this bishop isone. Thou shalt seek him, for he is now in Oxford: thou shalt startthis very night, and tomorrow thou mayest reach him. I will givethee the written confession of this most unhappy but penitentBeorn, and the bishop will hear thee, and justice shall yet bedone. But thou must depart at once, or he will have left the city.I will give thee food, and my palfrey shall be at thy service in anhour's time. And now, my child, while the food is preparing, go andpray at thy mother's tomb, and ask for grace to seek justice, notrevenge; for it is not fitting the murderer should lord it longerover thy people and thee!"
And in another minute the unhappy lad was prostrate before hismother's tomb: all other thoughts had gone from him--Etienne,Pierre, and the rest were forgotten--he was absorbed in the thoughtof his parent's wrongs, and in the awful responsibility thatknowledge had thrust upon him {ix}.