Gabriel and the Hour Book

by Evaleen Stein

  CHAPTER IV.

  THE HOUR BOOK

  BUT the next morning when Gabriel reached the Abbey, to his great joy hefound the chain gone (for the Abbot had so ordered after his visit tothe chapter-house), and Brother Stephen already hard at work, and happyas a bird. For like many other artist souls, when things went wrong,Brother Stephen suffered dreadful unhappiness; while, on the other hand,when pleased, he was full of boundless delight; and so, being relievedfrom the chain, he was in one of his most joyous moods.

  He smiled brightly as Gabriel entered; and the April sunlight streamingin through the high narrow windows sparkled so radiantly, and so filledthem with the life and energy and gladness of the spring-time, that eachof them felt as though he could do no end of work, and that King Louis'sbook should be one of the most beautiful things in all the world!

  And that morning was but the beginning of a long series of happy daysthat Brother Stephen and Gabriel were to spend together. At first themonk knew nothing of how it happened that he was freed from thehumiliation of the chain; but one day he heard about Gabriel's talkwith the Abbot from one of the brotherhood who had chanced to be in thegarden that morning, and had overheard them.

  At first Brother Stephen was rather displeased; for he did not like itthat the little boy had begged of the Abbot something which he himselfwas too proud to ask. But when he thought it over, and reflected that itwas out of sheer kindness that Gabriel had made the request, his heartstrangely warmed toward the lad. Indeed, through all his life in theAbbey, no one had ever really cared whether he was happy or unhappy; andso poor Brother Stephen had had no idea how very pleasant it would beto have even a little peasant boy take an interest in him. And as dayafter day went by, he began to love Gabriel, as he had never beforeloved any one.

  Yes, those were very happy days for both of them, and very busy ones,too. Every morning Gabriel would come to the Abbey with his hands filledwith the prettiest wild flowers he could find on the way; and from theseBrother Stephen would select the ones that pleased him best to paint.Sometimes it would be the sweet wild hyacinths of pale blue, sometimesthe yellow marsh-marigolds, and again the little deep pink field-roses,or some other of the innumerable lovely blossoms that every seasonbrought. And with them all, as he had said, he put in the small flyingcreatures; butterflies and bees, scarlet ladybugs and pale greenbeetles, whose wings looked like scraps of rainbows; and sometimes, inhis zeal, he even painted the little snails with their curled-up shells,and the fuzzy caterpillars that happened to come in on Gabriel'sbouquets, and you really would never believe how very handsome eventhese looked in the gold borders, when Brother Stephen got through withthem.

  And so, day by day, the book grew in perfect beauty. And as BrotherStephen worked, there was much for Gabriel to do also. For in those daysartists could not buy their ink and paints all ready for use as they doto-day, but were obliged to prepare by hand almost all their materials;and a little assistant such as Gabriel had to keep his hands busy, andhis eyes open, too.

  For instance, the matter of the ink alone, Gabriel had to have on hismind for weeks; for one could not then buy it ready made, in a bottle,as we do now without the least trouble, but the monks or theircolour-grinders had to make it themselves.

  And this is the way Gabriel had been taught to do it: morning aftermorning of those early spring days, as he trudged along on his way tothe Abbey, he kept sharp watch on the young hawthorn-trees by theroadside; and when their first buds showed, and while they were stilltiny, he gathered armfuls of the boughs, and carried them to the Abbey,where he spread them out in a sunny corner of the courtyard to stayuntil quite dry. Then he had to put them in a stone mortar and pound offall the bark; and this he put to steep in great earthen jars of water,until the water might draw all the sap from out the bark. All this tookseveral weeks to do.

  And then Gabriel spent a number of busy days in the great kitchen. Therehe had a large saucepan, and in it he placed, a little at a time, thewater in which the bark was steeping; and then raking out some coalsfrom the blazing fire of logs, he set his saucepan over them, andwatched the barky water until it had boiled down very thick, much as oneboils down syrup for preserves.

  Then he dipped out the thick liquid into little bags of parchment, whichhe had spent days stitching up very tightly, so that nothing could leakout. After the little bags were filled, he hung them out-of-doors in thebright sunlight; and as the days grew warmer and warmer, the sun soondried their contents, so that if one of the little bags were opened itwould be found filled with a dark powder.

  And then, last of all, when Brother Stephen wished some fresh ink forhis writing, or for the delicate lines about his initial letters orborders, Gabriel would take a little of the dry powder from one of thebags, and, putting it in a small saucepan over the fire, would melt itwith a little wine. And so at last it would be ready for use; a fine,beautiful black ink that hundreds of years have found hard work to fade.

  "_Dreaming of all the beautiful things he meant topaint_"]

  Then there was the gold to grind and prepare; that was the hardest ofall, and fairly made his arms ache. Many of the paints, too, had to beworked over very carefully; and the blue especially, and other brilliantcolours made from vegetable dyes, must be kept in a very curious way.Brother Stephen would prepare the dyes, as he preferred to do thishimself; and then Gabriel would take little pieces of linen cloth anddip a few in each of the colours until the linen would be soaked; andafterward, when they had dried in the sun, he would arrange these bitsin a little booklet of cotton paper, which every night Brother Stephen,as was the custom with many of the monks, put under his pillow so thatit might keep very dry and warm; for this preserved the colours in alltheir brightness. And then when he wanted to use some of them, he wouldtell Gabriel to cut off a bit of the linen of whatever colour he wished,and soak it in water, and in this way he would get a fine liquidpaint.

  For holding this paint, as dishes were none too plenty in those days,mussel shells were generally used; and one of Gabriel's tasks was togather numbers of these from the banks of the little river that ranthrough one of the Abbey meadows. That was very pleasant work, though,and sometimes, late in the afternoons of those lovely summer days,Brother Stephen and Gabriel would walk out together to the edge of thislittle river; the monk to sit on the grassy bank dreaming of all thebeautiful things he meant to paint, while Gabriel hunted for the prettypurple shells.

  And oftentimes the lad would bring along a fishing-pole and try his luckat catching an eel; for even this, too, had to do with the making of thebook. For Brother Stephen in putting on the gold of his borders, whilehe generally used white of egg, yet for certain parts preferred a gluemade from the skin of an eel; and this Gabriel could make very finely.

  So you see there were a great many things for a little colour-grinder todo; yet Gabriel was very industrious, and it often happened that hewould finish his tasks for the day, and still have several hours tohimself. And this was the best of all; for at such times BrotherStephen, who was getting along finely, would take great pleasure inteaching him to illuminate. He would let the boy take a piece ofparchment, and then giving him beautiful letters and bits of borders,would show him how to copy them. Indeed, he took so much pains in histeaching, that very soon Gabriel, who loved the work, and who had a realtalent for it, began to be quite skilful, and to make very good designsof his own.

  Whenever he did anything especially nice, Brother Stephen would seemalmost as much pleased as if Gabriel were his own boy; and hugging himaffectionately, he would exclaim:

  "Ah, little one, thou hast indeed the artist soul! And, please God, Iwill train thy hand so that when thou art a man it shall never know thehard toil of the peasant. Thy pen and brush shall earn a livelihood forthee!" And then he would take more pains than ever to teach Gabriel allthe best knowledge of his art.

  Nor did Brother Stephen content himself with teaching the boy only topaint; but in his love for him, he desired to do still more. He had nowealth some day to
bestow upon him, but he had something that was a verygreat deal better; for Brother Stephen, like many of the monks of thetime, had a good education; and this he determined to share withGabriel.

  He arranged to have him stay at the Abbey for his supper as often as hecould be spared from home; and hour after hour of the long summerevenings he spent teaching the lad to read and write, which was reallyquite a distinction; for it was an accomplishment that none of thepeasants, and very few of the lords and ladies of that time possessed.Gabriel was quick and eager to learn, and Brother Stephen graduallyadded other things to his list of studies, and both of them took thegreatest pleasure in the hours thus passed together.

  Sometimes they would go out into the garden, and, sitting on one of thequaint stone benches, Brother Stephen would point out to Gabriel thedifferent stars, or tell him about the fragrant growing plants aroundthem; or, perhaps, repeat to him some dreamy legend of old, oldNormandy.

  And then, by and by, Gabriel would go home through the perfumed dark,feeling vaguely happy; for all the while, through those pleasantevenings with Brother Stephen, his mind and heart were opening brightlyas the yellow primroses, that blossomed by moonlight over all the Abbeymeadows.