The boys in years gone by had almost regretted this fact. They had pictured so vividly how they would hide their father or some friend of his in this secret chamber, should peril menace them from any quarter, that it had seemed sometimes almost a pity that so secure a hiding place should be of so little use, when it might have done such excellent service had the need arisen.

However, as years sped by and the lads began to know more of life, they ceased to regret that the secret chamber remained without an occupant. From time to time they visited it, swept out the dust and cobwebs that had accumulated there, and bit by bit collected a few more odds and ends of furniture, so that the place now wore a look of greater comfort and habitation than it had done when they saw it first.

Once when Edred had been laid up by an accident to his foot, he had amused himself by making a number of feather pillows from the feathers of the birds his brothers shot and brought home to him. These feathers were dressed in the proper way by the boys themselves, and then made up into large pillows or cushions, which were then taken up to the secret chamber (at that time the favourite hobby of the boys), in order to make restful and comfortable the hard pallet bed, in case any fugitive were forced to take shelter there. In the same way had several rudely-made rugs, formed of the skins of wild bears taken in the woods, and tanned by the boys in a fashion of their own, found their way thither; and altogether the place had assumed an aspect of some comfort and even luxury, although it was now several years since any further additions had been made to its plenishings.

Edred looked round the strange apartment with a thoughtful air as he emerged into it from the long, dark, twisting passage he had threaded with the security of one to whom every winding and turn was known. It was dim and dark there, but sufficient light filtered in through cracks and cleverly-contrived apertures to render it easy to move about; and when the eye grew used to the dimness, everything could be seen with pretty fair distinctness.

"It would not be a bad hiding place," mused the boy, speaking half aloud. "Methinks over there one could even read without much trouble. Yes, without doubt one could; and that crack might be judiciously enlarged without any peril. It does but give upon the leads behind the main chimney stack, and the tiles would cover any aperture I made."

He took out his large hunting knife from his girdle as he spoke, and worked away awhile in silence. Very soon he had considerably added to the amount of light in the strange room. He eyed his handiwork with considerable satisfaction.

"That is better. It would be something gloomy to be shut up here without light enough to study by; but with books and food one might spend many a week here and not be overwhelmed with dullness. The place is something straight, to be sure, and there is bare room for a tall man to stand upright."

Edred drew himself to his full height, and found that his head did not quite reach the beams which formed the ceiling.

"I trow Brother Emmanuel could just stand; he is not greatly taller than I. And he is marvellous contented with a very little, and has been used to passing days and weeks in the solitude of his cell. Sure this would not be to him an evil place. If he had but a book or two and the needful food, he would be vastly content.

"I wonder if he can be in any sort of peril. I liked not the looks or the words of you malicious monk. Our father and mother often say that these be times when men must walk warily, and ofttimes they tell of godly men even in high places who have fallen into disgrace and been accused of fearful sins. It is not safe in these days to have for enemies those who are within the pale of the Church—monks and priors, men who are held up as examples and models of true faith and piety.

"I know not whether they merit the praise men give to them. Methinks Brother Emmanuel could teach them many things both in precept and practice. But it is not for me to be the judge in such matters; yet if he were in any kind of peril, I would lay down my life to save him!"

The boy's eyes kindled at the thought. He cherished for his preceptor an ardent and enthusiastic love, and he had his share of that chivalrous devotion and self-sacrifice which has been the brightest ornament of days that have much of darkness and cruelty to disgrace them.

His face wore a very earnest look as he set about his homely task of cleaning and setting in order this secret chamber. He was more than two hours over his task, for he went through it with unwonted energy. The place looked almost tempting before he had done with it, and he looked about him with satisfied eyes at the close of his labours.

There was a convenient spout, meant to carry off the rain water from the complex level of the old roof, which made an excellent substitute for a dust shoot. It could be got at from this place without difficulty, and Edred shot down his rubbish without any trouble through a funnel-like piece of wood he and his brothers had contrived for the purpose many years before. Then he stood quite still at the aperture whence the soft breeze came blowing in, lost in thought.

"It doth get very hot here in the summer days," he remarked, "and in especial at this end of the room, where it abuts upon the leads. It is cooler yonder, but then it is also darker. The air and the light come in at this side, but so does the heat likewise. And how thirsty one gets, too! My throat is parched and dry. I mind me how poor Warbel suffered in like manner when he was here. Food could be brought in without trouble. I will amass even now by slow degrees some of those hard oaten cakes that keep good for weeks, and some salted venison that would last the winter through.

"But water—how could that be brought? Suppose that we too were watched; suppose we dared not go through the secret door? What would become of the prisoner?

"I must talk to Bertram and Julian about that. Bertram has a wonderful gift for getting out of such difficulties; he has a marvellous quick wit. We never thought in old days how the water was to be conveyed; we thought a few bottles of wine would last a lifetime. But to die of thirst would be worse than to face one's foes. I shall not really rest till I have thought how such a danger might be guarded against."

Edred left the place with a thoughtful air. He gained their own long sleeping room without adventure. Nobody was ever there at this hour of the day, and he sat down on his bed to think and plan.

There his brothers found him later when they came rushing up tumultuously to find him.

"Ha! thou art there. We have been seeking thee everywhere. What hast thou been doing, brother?"

"I have been up to the room," answered the boy. "I have been making it all ready. I was something disturbed by what chanced yester-afternoon. I told thee of Brother Fabian and his evil looks?"

The other two nodded.

"Yes, verily; but they be brothers of one fraternity. Surely one Benedictine would not hurt another?"

"I know not that. I was talking this day with Warbel. He has been about in the world. He has seen priests and monks accused of heresy the one by the other; and none are so fearfully persecuted as those who wear the tonsure, if men do but suspect them of that sin.

"Brother Emmanuel a heretic!" cried Bertram, with flashing eyes. "I would force the word down the false throat of any who dared to say so! Brother Emmanuel is a right holy man. Art thou mad, Edred, to think such a thing?"

The boy shook his head doubtfully.

"I would I were," he replied; "but methinks Brother Emmanuel himself thinks that peril may menace him. I understand not rightly these matters; but I saw that yesterday upon his face which showed me that he felt he stood something in peril, albeit he has no fear. He is not of the stuff of which cowards are made."

Julian's eyes were wide with affright.

"They say the Lollards and heretics are to be sought out and burned, and that right soon," he said, in low, awe-struck tones. "Some of our people heard it today from those at Mortimer. The Lord of Mortimer has become very zealous to help the priests and monks to scent out all suspected of heresy and make a great example of them.

"Edred, thou dost not think they will take Brother Emmanuel—and—burn—him?"

The last words were little more than a whisper.

"I will die sooner than see it done!" cried the boy passionately. "But in these days no man may say who is safe. Therefore went I up to the chamber this very day to set it in order;" and then he told his brothers of the difficulty that had beset him there, and how he felt no security for any person in hiding there so long as the difficulty of conveying water to him remained so great.

Bertram grasped the situation in a moment. He well knew that if any person were suspected of lying hidden in the house, a close watch might well be kept upon every member of the household, and that it might be hard indeed to pay more than a very occasional visit to the prisoner. If, for instance, suspicion were to fall upon the boys in this matter, it would be probable they would be placed under some restraint; they might be carried off to the priory and forced to do some penance there. It would never do for the prisoner to be entirely dependent upon them for supplies of the precious commodity; and yet what else was to be done?

"I must think about it," cried Bertram. "I shall never rest till I have thought of some method. Would we had not left it so long! We have had all these years to make our plans, and we have never thought of this thing till trouble seems like to be at the very doors.

"Still it may but be our fantasy. Neither Brother Emmanuel nor any other may need the shelter of this room. We will trust it may be so.

"Yet I will cudgel my brains for a plan. It would be a fearful thing to know him to be shut up here, and yet to be unable to visit him with the necessaries of life. How poor Warbel drank when he issued forth that night. Methinks I see him now. One would have thought he had never tasted water before."

"But we came not to talk of all this," interrupted Julian, who had been evincing a few signs of impatience latterly; "we came to tell of the fair held today and tomorrow at Chadwick. Our father says we may go thither tomorrow if we will. Warbel says they will bait a bull, and perhaps a bear; and that there will be fighting with the quarterstaff and shooting with cross and long bow, and many other like spectacles. He will attend us, and we may be off with the light of day, an we will. That is what we came to tell thee, Edred."

Edred was boy enough to be well pleased at this news. Any variety in the day's round was pleasing to the lads, who found life a little monotonous, albeit pleasant enough. It was a relief, too, to turn from grave thoughts and anxious forebodings to the anticipation of simpler pleasures, and the boys all ran to seek Warbel and ask him what these village fairs were like; for they had been much interrupted during the recent wars, and only now that peace had been for some years established did they begin to revive and gain their old characteristics.

At break of day on the morning following, the little party started forth on foot to walk the five miles which separated them from the village of Chadwick. It was a pleasant enough walk through the green forest paths before the heat of the day had come. The three boys and Warbel headed the party, and were followed by some eight or ten men of various degree, some bent on a day's pleasure for themselves, others there with a view of attending upon their master's sons.

Bertram felt that he could have dispensed with any attendance save that of Warbel; but Sir Oliver had given his own orders. With so powerful and jealous a neighbour within easy reach of the village, he felt bound to be careful of his children. They were but striplings after all, and doubtless his unscrupulous neighbour would be delighted to hold one or more as a hostage should excuse arise for opening hostilities of any kind. He knew well the unscrupulous character of the man with whom he had to deal, and he acted with prudence and foresight accordingly.

The little village when reached proved to be all en fete. Rude arches of greenery crossed every pathway to the place, and all the people had turned out in their holiday dresses upon the green to join in the dances and see the sights. There was a miracle play going on in one place, repeated throughout the day to varying groups of spectators. In another corner some rude gipsy juggling was to be seen, at which the rustic yokels gazed with wondering eyes. There were all the usual country games in full swing; and the baiting of a great bull, which was being led to the centre of the green, attracted the attention of the bulk of the spectators, and drew them away from other sports. The actors in the miracle play threw off their dresses to come and witness this delightful pastime, and hardly any of those present seemed to regard for a moment the sufferings of the poor brute, or the savage nature of the whole performance.

Edred, however, belonged to that very small minority, and whilst his two brothers pressed into the ring, he wandered away elsewhere to see what was to be seen. His attention was attracted by a little knot of persons gathered together under the shade of a great oak tree, rather far away from the green that was the centre of attraction. The shade looked inviting, now that the heat was growing greater, and the boy felt some curiosity to know what was the attraction which kept this little group so compact and quiet. On the green were shouting and yelling and noise of every description; but Edred could hear no sound of any kind proceeding from this little group till he approached quite near, and then he was aware of the sound of a single voice speaking in low tones and very earnestly.

When he got nearer still he saw that the speaker was a little hunchback, and that he had in his hand a small book from which he was reading aloud to the people about him. And this fact surprised the boy not a little, for it was very unusual for any person in the lower ranks of life to be able to read; and yet this man was evidently in poor circumstances, for his clothes were shabby and his hands were hardened by manual toil.

Drawing nearer in great curiosity, Edred became aware that what the hunchback was reading was nothing more or less than a part of the gospel narrative in the English tongue, to which the people about him were listening in amazement, and with keen curiosity and attention.

Edred was familiar enough with the Latin version of the Scriptures, and had studied them under the guidance of Brother Emmanuel with great care and attention; but he had never yet heard the words read out in their entirety in his native tongue, and he was instantly struck and fascinated by the freshness and suggestiveness of the familiar language when used for this purpose. He was conscious that it gave to the words a new life and meaning; that it seemed, as it were, to drive them home to the heart in a new fashion, and to make them the property of the listener as they could never be when a dead language was used as the medium of expression. He felt a strange thrill run through him as the story of Calvary was thus read in the low, impassioned tones of the hunchback; and he was not surprised to see that tears were running down many faces, and that several women could hardly restrain their sobs.

Now and again the hunchback paused and added a few explanatory words of his own; now and again he broke forth into a rhapsody not lacking in a certain rude eloquence, in which he besought his hearers to come to their Saviour with their load of sin—their Saviour, who was the one and only Mediator between God and man. Were not His own words enough—"Father, forgive them"? What need, then, of the priest; the confessional; the absolution of man? To God and to Him alone was the remission of sins. Let those who loved their Lord seek to Him, and see what bliss and happiness resulted from this personal bond between the erring soul and the loving Saviour.

Edred shivered slightly as he stood, yet something in the impassioned gestures of the hunchback, and the strange enthusiastic light which shone in his eyes, attracted him in spite of himself. That this was rank heresy he well knew. He knew that one of the Lollard tenets had always been that confession was a snare devised of man and not appointed by God. Edred himself could have quoted many passages from Holy Writ which spoke of some need of confession through the medium of man, and of sins remitted by God-appointed ministers. He had been well instructed in such matters by Brother Emmanuel, who, whatever his enemies might allege against him, was a stanch son of the Church, even though he might be gifted with a wide tolerance and a mind open to conviction; and his pupil was not to be easily convinced against his will. Nor was Edred convinced of the justice and truth of many things that this ignorant man spoke; but what did strike him very greatly was his intense earnestness, his fiery and impassioned gestures, the absolute confidence he possessed in the righteousness of his own cause, and his utter freedom from any kind of doubt or fear—the eloquence of one of nature's orators that carries away the heart far more than the studied oratory which is the result of practice and artifice.

Whilst the man spoke, Edred felt himself carried away in spite of his inner consciousness that there was a flaw in the argument of the preacher. He was intensely interested by the whole scene. He could not help watching the faces of the group of which he made one, watching the play of emotion upon them as they followed with breathless attention their instructor's words, and drank in his fiery eloquence as though it were life-giving water.

And was it wonderful this should be so? the youth asked of himself. Were not these poor people fairly starving for want of spiritual food? and what food did they receive from the hands of their parish priest? Edred knew the old man well. He was a kind-hearted sexagenarian, and in those days that was accounted an immense age. He mumbled through the mass on Sundays; he baptized the children and buried the dead when need arose; and if sent for by some person in extremity, would go and administer the last rites of the Church. But beyond that his duties did not go, and no living soul in the place remembered hearing him speak a word of instruction or admonition on his own account. He had a passion for gardening, and spent all his spare time with his flowers; and his people went their way as he did his, and their lives never touched on any point.

Such being the case, was it wonderful that the people should come with eagerness to hear of the Saviour from whomsoever would tell them of Him? Edred well remembered Brother Emmanuel's words about the four God-given channels of grace—the living ministry by which He had meant His Church to be perfected. But how when the streams grew choked? how when the ministry had become a dead letter? Was the Church, were the people, to die of inanition? Might not God pardon them for listening to any messenger who came with His name upon his lips? Surely He who lived in the heavens would pardon them even if it were sin, seeing that it was the instinctive love of His own wandering sheep which brought them crowding round any shepherd who would teach them of Him, even though he did not come in the God-directed order.

Some such thoughts in a more chaotic form surged through Edred's head as he stood listening, almost causing him to lose the words of the preacher, though the tenor of his discourse was plain. He almost wished he might enter into a discussion with this enthusiast, and point out to him where he thought him extravagant and wrong; but young as he was, Edred yet knew something of the futility of argument with those whose minds are made up, and caution withheld him from entering into any argument with one who was plainly a Lollard preacher. So, after listening with sympathy and interest for a long while, he quietly stole away again.

The bull baiting was over by this time. The games and other sports were recommencing with greater energy after this brief interruption. The miracle play was again represented, and Edred stood a few minutes to watch, thinking within his heart that this representation, half comical, half blasphemous (though the people who regarded it seemed in no way aware of this), was a strange way of bringing home the realities of the Scriptures, when it could be done so far more faithfully and eloquently by simply reading the gospel words in the tongue of the common people.

His eye roved from the actors, with their mincing words and artificial gestures, to the group still collected beneath the tree, and he could not but contrast the two methods in his own mind, and wonder for a moment whether the Lollards could be altogether so desperately wicked as their enemies would make out.

He was half afraid of allowing himself to think too much on such themes, and went in search of his brothers. He found Warbel looking out for him in some anxiety. He had missed the boy for some little while from his charge, and as the field was filling fast with followers and servants wearing the Mortimer livery, he was glad to have the three boys all together beneath his care.

He would have been glad to get them to leave the place, but Bertram would not hear of it. He wished to try his own skill at some of the sports; and Julian, of course, must needs follow his example.

The skill and address of the Chadgrove brothers won the hearty admiration of the rustics, but it also brought them more than once into rivalry and collision with some of Mortimer's gentlemen-at-arms, who were not best pleased to be overmatched by mere striplings. It was also galling and irritating to them to note the popularity of these lads with the rustics. Any success of theirs was rewarded by loud shouting and applause, whilst no demonstration of satisfaction followed any feat performed by those wearing the livery of Mortimer. And if the lads scored a triumph over any of these latter, the undisguised delight of the beholders could not pass unnoticed by the vanquished.

Altogether there were so much jealousy and ill will aroused that little scuffles between the followers of Chad and Mortimer had already taken place in more than one part of the field. Warbel was getting very uneasy, and had persuaded Edred to use his influence with his brothers to return home before any real collision should have occurred, when a great tumult and shouting suddenly arose to interrupt the whispered colloquy, and Edred saw a great rush being made in the direction of the oak tree, where the hunchback preacher had been keeping his station the whole day long, always surrounded by a little knot of listeners.

Shouts and yells were filling the air, the voices being those of Mortimer's following.

"A Lollard, a Lollard! A heretic! Down with him! Away with him! To the fire with him! A Lollard, a Lollard!"

A deep flush overspread Edred's face. He made a spring forward; but Warbel laid a detaining hand upon his arm.

"It is no case for us to interfere in," he said, with clouded brow. "If they have a heretic to deal with we must not meddle. It is not England's way for a score to attack one; but we must not interpose betwixt Mortimer and a heretic. That would be too much peril."

But almost before the man had done speaking Edred broke away, crying out excitedly: "My brothers, my brothers! they are there in the thick of it!" and with a groan of terror and dismay Warbel recognized the voice of Bertram raised in angry scorn.

"Stand back, you cowards! Who ever heard of fifty men against one, and he a cripple? The first who touches him I strike dead. A heretic! Pooh! nonsense. He is but a poor travelling peddler with his pack. See, here is the pack to speak for itself. For shame to mar a merry holiday in this unmannerly fashion! No; I will not give him up! Ye are no better than a pack of howling, ravening wolves. I am the Lord of Chad, and I will see that no violence is done this day. Back to your sports, ye unmannerly knaves. Are ye fit for nothing but to set upon one helpless man and worry him as dogs worry their helpless prey?"

Howls, execrations, oaths followed freely; but the village people were to a man with their young lord, and the scions of Mortimer felt it by instinct.

"Who is he? Whence came he?" was being asked on all sides; but none could give an answer. He was a stranger to the village, but all those who had been drinking in his words rallied round him, and declared he was but a simple peddler whose wares they had been buying; and Bertram, who really thought so, stood beside the tree, opened the bundle, and showed the innocent nature of the wares.

His brothers had forced their way to his side by this time, and helped to make a ring round the poor hunchback; and Edred kept a very sharp eye upon the emptying of the pack, resolved if there should be any book at the bottom to contrive that it should not reach the eyes of any of the vindictive followers of Mortimer.

But there was nothing of the sort to be seen. The man was both too poor and too wary to carry such dangerous things with him. His own thin volume had been slipped into some secret receptacle about his person, and his calmness of bearing helped to convince all who were open to conviction that he was innocent of the charge brought against him.

With dark, lowering faces, and many muttered threats, the Mortimer retainers drew off, seeing that with public feeling dead against them they could not prevail to work their will upon the intended victim. But Warbel was made very anxious by the words he heard openly spoken on all sides, and he would have given much to have hindered this act of Bertram's, generous and manly though he knew it to have been.

"It is ill work drawing down the charge of heresy," he remarked, as he got the boys at last in full march homeward. "Any other charge one can laugh to scorn; but no man may tell where orthodoxy ends and heresy begins. Godly bishops have been sent to prison, and priests to the stake. How may others hope to escape?"

"Tush!" answered Bertram lightly; "there was never a heretic at Chad yet, and never will be one, I trow. Was I to see a poor cripple like that done to death without striking a blow in his defence—he in Chadwick, of which my father is lord of the manor? Was I to see Mortimer's men turning a gay holiday into a scene of horror and affright? Never! I were unworthy of my name had I not interposed. The man was no heretic, and if he had been—"

"Have a care, sir, how thou speakest; have a care, I entreat thee! Thou knowest not what ears may be listening!" cried Warbel, in a real fright.

Bertram laughed half scornfully.

"I have no need to be ashamed of what I think. I am a true son of the Church, and fear not what the vile Mortimer scum may say. But to pleasure thee, good Warbel, I will say no more. We will make our way home with all speed, and tell the tale to our father. I doubt not he will say it was well done. The Lord of Chad would ever have the defenceless protected, and stand between them and the false and treacherous bloodhounds of Mortimer. I have no fear that he will blame me. He would have done the same in my place."

"I trow he would," answered Warbel in a low voice; "but that does not make the deed done without peril of some sort following to the doer."



Chapter V: A Warning.

Sir Oliver and his wife listened with some anxiety to the boys' story of the rescue of the peddler. Bertram observed the cloud upon his father's brow, and eagerly asked if he had done wrong.

"I say not so, my son," replied the knight. "I would ever have a child of mine merciful and just—the protector of the oppressed, and the champion of the defenceless; nevertheless—"

"And it was those bloodhounds of Mortimer's who were setting upon him," broke in Julian vehemently. "What right had they to molest him? Could we of Chad, upon our own soil, stand by and see it done? I trow, father, that thou wouldst have done the same hadst thou been there."

A smile flitted over the face of the knight. He loved to see the generous fire burning in his boys' eyes; but for all that his face was something anxious as he made reply:

"Belike I should, my son, albeit perhaps in a something less vehement fashion. My authority would have served to keep down riot, and the charge against the peddler could have been forthwith examined, and if found false the man could then have been sent on his way in safety. But it is dangerous work just now to appear to side with those against whom the foul charge of heresy is brought. Knowest thou—know any of ye—what gave rise to the sudden suspicion?"

Edred, who knew much more of the real nature of the peddler's occupation that day, kept his lips close sealed. He would not for worlds have told what he had seen and heard. His brothers were plainly ignorant of the peddler's exhortation, reading, and preaching. It was not for him to add to the anxieties of his parents.

Julian was the first to answer the question.

"It was but the idle spite of the people of Mortimer," he answered. "They had baited the bull and the bear, and they had the mind to bait or burn a heretic whilst their blood was up, as a fit end to their day's pleasuring. I saw them prowling round the tree where the fellow was talking to the women and showing his wares; and suddenly they raised the shout. I called out to Bertram that Mortimer's people were bent on a mischief, and he sprang to the peddler's side before any had touched him, and we disappointed the hell hounds of their prey. He had nothing in his pack but such wares as all peddlers have; and the people vowed he had done naught all the day but sell to all who came. It would have been sin and shame for us of Chad to have stood by to see him hounded perhaps to death. We could not choose but balk those evil men of their will. None of our blood could have stood by to see such ill done!"

"I cannot blame ye, my sons," said the knight. "Ye have the blood of your forefathers in your veins, and it goes against all of us at Chad to see injustice and unrighteousness committed. I do but wish the cry raised against yon man had been anything else than that of heresy. The priests and magistrates are very busy now searching out all those suspected of that vile sin, and those who shelter them are accounted as guilty as those who are proved tainted. Our foe of Mortimer is very zealous in the good cause, and will not scruple to employ against us every weapon in his power. It would be an excellent thing in his eyes to show how mine own children had stood up to defend a Lollard heretic. I would we knew something more anent this man and his views.

"Warbel, didst thou know him? Is he anyone known in and about Chad?"

"I never saw his face before, sir," answered Warbel. "I know not so much as his name. I had thought of making some inquiries of the village folks. All I noted was that he seemed always to have plenty of persons around and about him, and his wares were nothing very attractive. Still, it is often the tales peddlers tell and the way they have with them that keeps a crowd always about them. Some of the folks of the place must know who and what he is."

"Yes, verily; and it would be well for thee to ride over tomorrow and make all needful inquiry. It would set my mind at rest to know that there was no cause of complaint against him. We cannot be blind to the fact that heretical doctrines are widely spread by those purporting to be hawkers and peddlers. Yet there must be many honest men who would scorn to be so occupied, and who know not even the name of these pestilent heresies."

And with that charge the knight tried to dismiss the subject from his mind; whilst Edred went to bed feeling terribly uneasy, and dreamed all night of the secret chamber, and how the time came when they were all forced to take refuge in it from the hatred of the Lord of Mortimer and his bloodthirsty followers.

But not even to his brothers did he tell all that he had heard and all that he knew. The words of the gospel in the familiar language of his country haunted him persistently. He felt a strange wish to hear more, although he believed the wish to be sin, and strove against it might and main. Some of the passages clung tenaciously to his memory, and he fell asleep repeating them. When he woke the words were yet in his mind, and they seemed to get between him and the words of his task that day when the boys went to their tutor for daily instruction.

Brother Emmanuel had never found Edred so inattentive and absent before. He divined that the boy must have something on his mind, and let him alone. He was not surprised that he lingered when the others had gone, and then in a low voice asked his preceptor if he would meet him in the chantry, as he felt he could not be happy till he had made confession of a certain matter, done penance, and received absolution.

A request of that sort never met a denial from the monk. He sent Edred to the chantry to pray for an hour, and met him there at the end of that time to listen to all he had to say.

Edred's story was soon told—nothing held back, not even the innermost thoughts of his heart—and the expression of the face beneath the enshrouding cowl was something strange to see.

It was long before the monk spoke, and meantime Edred lay prostrate at his feet, thankful to transfer the burden weighing him down to the keeping of another, but little guessing what the burden was to him to whom he made this confession.

Well did Brother Emmanuel know and recognize the peril of entertaining such thoughts, longings, and aspirations as were now assailing the heart of this unconscious boy. That there was sin in all these feelings he did not doubt; that heavy penance must be done for them he would not for a moment have wished to deny. But yet when he came to place reason in the place of the formulas of the Church in which he had been reared, he knew not how to condemn that longing after the Word of God which was generally the first step towards the dreaded sin of heresy.

No one more sincerely abhorred the name and the sin of heresy. When men denied the presence of the living God in the sacraments of the Church, or attacked its time-honoured practices in which the heart of the young monk was bound up, then the whole soul of the enthusiast rose up in revolt, and he felt that such blasphemers well deserved the fiery doom they brought upon themselves. But when their sin was possessing a copy of the living Word; when all that could be alleged against them was that they met together to read that Word which was denied to them by their lawful pastors and teachers, and which they had no opportunity of hearing otherwise—then indeed did it seem a hard thing that they should be so mercilessly condemned and persecuted.

Yet he could not deny that this reading and expounding of the Scriptures by the ignorant and unlearned led almost invariably to those other sins of blasphemy and irreverence which curdled the very blood in his veins. Again and again had his heart burned within him to go forth amongst the people himself; to take upon himself and put in practice the office of evangelist, which he knew to be a God-appointed ministry, and yet which was so seldom worthily fulfilled, and himself to proclaim aloud the gospel, that all might have news of the Son of God, yet might be taught to reverence the holy sacraments more rather than less for the sake of Him who established them upon earth, and to respect the priesthood, even though it might in its members show itself unworthy, because it was a thing given by Christ for the edification of the body, and because He Himself, the High Priest passed into the heavens, must needs have His subordinate priests working with Him and by Him on earth.

Again and again had longings such as these filled his soul, and he had implored leave to go forth preaching and teaching. But he had never won permission to do this. The request had been treated with contempt, and he himself had been suspected of ambition and other unworthy motives. He had submitted to the will of his superiors, as his vow of obedience obliged him to do; but none the less did his heart burn within him as he saw more and more plainly how men were thirsting for living waters, and realized with ever-increasing intensity of pain and certainty that if the Church herself would not give her children to drink out of pure fountains, they would not be hindered from drinking of poisoned springs, and thus draw down upon themselves all manner of evils and diseases.

He had never doubted for a moment the pureness of the source from which he himself drank. He was not blind to the imperfections many and great of individuals in high places, and the corruptions which had crept within the pale of the Church, but these appeared to him incidental and capable of amendment. He never guessed at any deeper poison at work far below, tainting the very waters at their source. He was in all essential points an orthodox son of Rome; but he had imbibed much of the spirit of the Oxford Reformers, of whom Colet was at this time the foremost, and his more enlightened outlook seemed to the blind and bigoted of his own order to savour something dangerously of heresy.

He did not know himself seriously suspected. His conscience was too clear, his devotion to the Church too pure, to permit of his easily fearing unworthy suspicions. He knew himself no favourite with the stately but self-indulgent Prior of Chadwater; knew that Brother Fabian, whom he had once sternly rebuked for an act of open sin, was his bitter enemy. But he had not greatly heeded this, strong in his own innocence, and he had been far happier at Chad in the more truly pure atmosphere of that secular house than in the so-called sanctity of the cloister.

And now he found his own thoughts, aspirations, and yearnings repeated in the mind of his favourite pupil, and he was confronted by a problem more difficult to solve than any that had met him before. In his own case he felt he had a compass to steer by—the restraint and guidance of his vows and his habit to help him. But how would it be with this ardent and imaginative boy? His mind was struggling to free itself from artificial trammels. To what goal might not that wish lead?

Earnestly he looked upon the bowed form at his feet, and in his eyes there was a great compassion. But his lips pronounced, with sternness and decision, the words of the heavy penance imposed, and at the end of the prescribed formulas he raised the boy and looked searchingly into his face.

"My son," he said, very gently yet very impressively, "remember that the first sin that entered into the world was the sin of disobedience. Remember that Satan's most powerful weapon is the one which he employed towards our first mother when he bid her eat of the tree of knowledge, because that knowledge is good—a God-given thing—when he persuaded her that God was wrong in keeping anything hidden from her that in itself was good. The same sin by which death entered the world has abounded there ever since. God and the Son of God and the Church have always taught that there be certain things hidden, only to be revealed to man by God or through the ordinances of the Church, not to be sought after through curiosity by unlettered men themselves. Yet for as much as Satan is never at rest, and can transform himself on occasion into an angel of light, he is ever present with men urging them on to pry into these hidden mysteries and to make light of the ordinances of God. He puts into their mouth words similar to those by which he tempted the woman to her fall, and men listen greedily as our first mother did, and are led into destruction when they think they are walking forth into the light of day.

"My son, beware of this sin; beware of this temptation. Remember the many solemn warnings against disobedience contained in the Word of God; remember how obedience is insisted on throughout that holy volume. Thou mayest not always see the reason—thou mayest not always recognize the authority; but remember that there is a blessing upon those who obey, and be not in haste to break the bond under which thou wast born, remembering who has placed thee where thou art, and who has bidden us give all dutiful obedience to the powers that be."

Edred made a deep reverence, crossed himself silently in token of submission, and prostrated himself upon the step of the altar, to lie there fasting till set of sun as one part of his penance. With a murmured prayer and blessing the monk left him, hoping that he had spoken a word of seasonable warning to one whose heart was enkindled with ardent devotion, whilst his active mind and vivid imagination were in danger of leading him into perilous paths.

No questions were asked of Edred respecting this penance, which took him away from his ordinary occupations during the chief part of the two following days. He and Brother Emmanuel alone knew the reason for it, and it was against the traditions of the house that any open notice should be taken by others.

The episode of the peddler and the outbreak with the followers of Mortimer had begun to fade somewhat from the minds of those at Chad. No complaint had reached that house from Mortimer's Keep, as had been expected, and it was hoped that the thing would never be heard of again.

Yet it was with something of a sinking heart that Sir Oliver heard the third day that the Prior of Chadwater desired speech of him; and as he mounted his horse and summoned his servants about him, he wondered, not without considerable uneasiness, what this summons might mean.

He had always been on good terms with the handsome prior of the Benedictine monastery. The choicest of the game, the fattest of the bucks slain in the forest, the chiefest specimens of his wife's culinary triumphs, always found their way to the prior's table, and an excellent understanding had always been maintained between the two houses. But the knight had observed of late that the prior had become more slack in those visits of friendly courtesy which once had been common enough between them; and when he had presented himself at the monastery, he had not been quite certain that his welcome was as cordial as heretofore. It was not until latterly that this had caused him any uneasiness—it had taken him some while to feel sure that it was anything but his own fantasy; but he had just begun to feel that something was amiss, and now this summons seemed to him to have an evil import.

However, there was nothing for it but to go; and a clear conscience keeps a man bold even in face of greater peril than was likely to assail him now. He thought it probable that some rumour of the stir on the fair day had reached the ecclesiastic, and that he wanted an account of it in detail. Sir Oliver was quite prepared to give him that, and entered the presence of the prior with a bold front and an air of cordial courtesy such as he was wont to wear in the presence of this dignitary.

There was nothing alarming in the prior's manner. He received his guest graciously, bid him be seated in the best chair reserved for the use of guests, and asked him of the welfare of his household with benevolence and friendly interest. But after all that had been said, his face took another look, and he brought up the subject of the travelling peddler or preacher, and asked the knight what his sons meant by standing champions to a notable and pernicious Lollard heretic.

The knight started at the words, and disclaimed any such knowledge both on behalf of himself and his sons. He told the tale as Bertram and Julian had told it him; and there was such sincerity in his manner, and his character both for orthodoxy and for scrupulous truthfulness in word and deed was so widely known and respected, that the prior's brow unbent somewhat, and he looked less stern and severe.

"I believe your story, Sir Knight," he said. "I believe that your sons sinned in ignorance. But none the less is it true that they have stood champions for a pestilent heretic; and that is an offence not likely to escape the vengeful notice of the Lord of Mortimer, who is always on the lookout for a cause of complaint against person or persons at Chad."

"That is very true," replied Sir Oliver, thoughtfully and gravely. "I was greatly vexed when I heard of the affair, and chided my boys for their hot-headed rashness. Howbeit there be many there to testify that the man was at that time but hawking his wares, and my sons could not know that he was a secret heretic and Lollard."

"Nay, but when that cry was raised they should not have stood at his side as his champions without more knowledge of the truth. The man is now known to have been preaching well nigh the whole day long, reading portions of those accursed translations of Wycliffe's which are damnation to all who possess them or listen to them, and expounding thereupon in the fashion that sends persons raving mad with the poison of heresy. The man is in hiding somewhere in the woods about; but he will soon be caught and handed over to the secular power to be doomed to death. And I like not the story of your sons' part in all this; it hath an ugly look."

Sir Oliver hid his anxiety beneath a cloak of dignified submission. He well knew the best way of putting things straight with the prior.

"I greatly grieve over the hotheadedness of the lads, but I will gladly make such amends as lies in my power. They sinned in ignorance, as you, reverend father, believe, and for such sins the indulgence of the Church may be won by the payment of such sum as shall be thought right. If you will tell me what I ought to give to purchase this indulgence, I will do my utmost to meet the just claim; and Holy Church shall be richer and not poorer for the trespass unwittingly made by the sons of Chad."

The prior looked pleased at this ready suggestion, and named a sum which, though sufficiently heavy, was within Sir Oliver's means, and which he promised should be immediately paid. He knew that the prior, though a man fond of money, and somewhat greedy in gaining possession of all he could, was not treacherous or unjust; and that if he had accepted this sum as the price of the pardon of the boys' escapade, he would stand their friend, and not allow them to be persecuted by Mortimer for the same offence, should the matter ever be brought up against them again.

Indeed, now that the arrangement had been so amicably entered into, Sir Oliver was rather glad that the subject had been broached. The prior was the most powerful man in the county, and to have him for a friend was everything. It was his game to hold the balance very nicely betwixt the owners of Mortimer and Chad, keeping his neutral position, and not permitting either party to overstep the limits beyond a certain extent. After what had just passed, he felt assured that the prior would not permit his boys to be harried or accused of countenancing heresy by their enemy, and he was well pleased at the interview and its result.

He rose now as if to go, but the prior motioned him to resume his seat.

"There is yet another matter upon which I would speak to you," he said. "You have beneath your roof one of our younger brethren, Brother Emmanuel. How have you found him comport himself since he has been free from the restraints of the cloister?"

The knight looked surprised at the question.

"He is in all ways a very godly and saintly youth," he replied. "He instructs my sons after an excellent fashion, keeps the hours of the Church with a scrupulous precision I have never seen equalled, and instructs all who come to him for advice or assistance in a manner that makes him beloved of all. Whenever I have talked with him or gone to him for spiritual counsel, I have been greatly struck by his spiritual insight, his purity of thought, his earnestness of mind, and his knowledge of the Holy Scriptures."

The prior shifted a little in his seat, and coughed behind his hand somewhat dubiously.

"He was ever prone to observe the hours well. He lived blamelessly here in all outward observances; but as for his knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, it may be that it goes something too far. It is whispered abroad that some of his words savour strongly of those very Lollard heresies which are about to be put down with fire and sword. Hast thou heard and seen naught of that?"

A thrill of indignation ran through Sir Oliver's frame. It was only by an effort that he restrained a hasty exclamation. He well knew that the wave of enlightened feeling rising within the Church herself had found no echo in the remoter parts of the kingdom, where bigotry and darkness and intolerance still reigned supreme. He was perfectly aware that the most enlightened sons of the Church who had dared to bid the people study the Word of God, and especially to study it as a whole, would have been denounced as heretics had they lifted up their voices in many parts of the kingdom. This very enlightened understanding, which was so marked a feature in Brother Emmanuel, had been one of the strongest bonds between him and his patron, and it seemed little short of monstrous to the knight to hear such an accusation brought against one who had lived a godly and blameless life, had observed far more rigorously all the laws of the Church than the prior or the fraternity thought of doing, and was a far truer and better son than they ever attempted to be.

But he restrained his indignation, and only answered very calmly:

"I have seen naught of it; indeed, I have seen so much to the contrary, that methinks it is but an idle tale, not worth your reverence's attention. In every matter, word or deed, Brother Emmanuel is faithful to his vows and to his calling. He is an able instructor of youth; and were your reverence to examine him as strictly as possible, I do not believe that any cause of offence, however trivial, could be found against him."

"I am well pleased to hear such good testimony," returned the prior, who was regarding his visitor with a scrutiny not altogether agreeable to the knight. "At the same time, it is not always well for a monk to remain too long away from the cloister, and a change of instructor is ofttimes better for the young. I have been thinking that it might be well to recall Brother Emmanuel, and send in his place Brother Fabian, in whom I repose the greatest confidence. How would such a change meet your good pleasure? If Brother Emmanuel is in need of penance, it can better be imposed here than elsewhere—and by all I hear it seems to me that he stands something in need of the discipline of the monastery; and Brother Fabian would make an excellent substitute as an instructor for the lads."

Whilst the prior was speaking, thought had been rapid with Sir Oliver, and something in the prior's look—a subtlety and almost cruelty about the lines of the mouth—warned him that there was in this proposition that which boded evil to someone.

It flashed across him that Brother Emmanuel was perhaps to be made a victim of ecclesiastical tyranny and cruelty. He knew that the ascetic young monk had been no favourite with his brethren at Chadwater; and if they could bring against him some charge of heresy, however trifling, it was like enough that he might be silently done to death, as others of his calling had been for less fearful offences. Monastic buildings held their dark secrets, as the world was just beginning to know; and only a short while back he had heard a whisper that it was not wise for a monk to be too strict in his hours and in his living. Then again, Brother Fabian was a coarse, illiterate man, utterly unfit to be the guide and instructor of youth. Sir Oliver had not dined at the prior's table and spent hours in his company for nothing, and he knew many of the monks tolerably well. Brother Fabian was the one he liked the least; indeed he had a strong dislike and distrust of the man, and was well aware that the ecclesiastical habit was the only thing about him that savoured of sanctity or the monastic life. He would not have allowed the contaminating presence of such a man near his sons, even had he been indued with the needful learning for the task of instructor. As it was, he knew that the monk could barely spell through his breviary, and it was plain that the prior must have another reason for wishing to induct him into the house.

Nor was the reason difficult to divine. It was not as an instructor but as a spy that Brother Fabian was to come. The whispers abroad—doubtless spread industriously by his vengeful foe—had not been without effect, and men had begun to suspect that his household was tainted with heresy. Brother Emmanuel was suspected, his sons were probably suspected as being his pupils, and possibly some other members of his household too. Brother Fabian was to be sent to act as spy, and if bribed (as was most probable) by the Lord of Mortimer, would doubtless find some cause of offence which could be twisted into an accusation of heresy against someone there.

It was difficult for Sir Oliver to see his way all in a moment. To oppose this scheme or to submit to it appeared alike dangerous. His independence and honest English pride revolted against any attempt to coerce him in his domestic arrangements, or to submit to interference there, even from the ministers of the Church.

But it was needful to walk warily, and the prior was watching him as a cat does a mouse.

"Will you give me a few days to consider this matter?" he asked, in as easy a tone as he could. "Your reverence knows that changes are not of themselves welcome to me; and my sons have made such progress with Brother Emmanuel that I am something loath to part with him. Also, they are at this moment going through a course of study which none other could conclude with the same advantage. Brother Fabian is doubtless an excellent brother of his order, but he has scarce the same learning as Brother Emmanuel. Nevertheless, I will well consider the change proposed, and give it all dutiful heed. But I should like to speak with my wife anent the matter, and learn her will. It is not a matter of pressing haste, by what I have gathered from your words?"

"No, not one of pressing haste. Yet I would not long delay," answered the prior. "I may not speak too openly, but there be reasons why I would have Brother Emmanuel beneath this roof once more. I will leave thee one week to consider and to get the course of study completed. At the week's end, methinks, I shall be constrained to bid Brother Emmanuel return home. But if all be well after a short time has sped by, he may return again to thee."

Sir Oliver was looking full at the handsome but crafty face of the prior, and as the last words passed his lips he saw a flicker in the eyes which made him say within his heart:

"If Brother Emmanuel once re-enters these walls, he will never sally forth again. Mischief is meant him; of that I am convinced. What must I do? Must I give him up to his death? And how can I save him, even if I would?"

These thoughts were surging in his heart as he rode home. The peril he had feared against those of his own name and race had been averted. The payment of what was practically a heavy fine would secure to the boys immunity from the results of their rashness; but with the monk it was far different. What had aroused the animosity of the fraternity, and why mischief was planned against him, Sir Oliver could not divine; but that something had occurred to arouse it he could not doubt.

No sooner had he reached home than he sought Brother Emmanuel in his own bare room, and laid before him the account of what had passed.

A strange look crossed the young monk's face.

"Then it is known!" he said simply.

"What is known?"

"That I am the author of a certain pamphlet, written some while ago, and taken to Germany to be printed, giving an account of some of the corruptions and abuses that have stolen into the Church, and in especial into the monasteries and religious houses of this land. I could not choose but write it. If the Church is to be saved, it can only be by her repudiation of such corruptions, and by a process of self cleansing that none can do for her. I always knew that if suspected my life would pay the forfeit; but I know not how the authorship has been discovered. Yet the great ones of the land have ways we know not of; and if the truth is not known, it is suspected. I am to go back to the priory; but once there, I shall never go forth again. Yet what matter? I always knew if the thing were known my life would .pay the forfeit. I wrote as the Spirit bid me; I know that God was with me then. I am ready to lay down my life in a good cause; I am not afraid what man can do unto me."

Sir Oliver looked into that young face, which the martyr spirit illuminated and glorified, and an answering spark kindled in his own eyes.

"If that is thine offence, and not the alleged one of heresy, I will stand thy friend," he said; "and thou shalt not go forth from Chad to thy death so long as I have a roof to shelter thee. I will stand thy friend and protector so long as I have a house to call mine own."



Chapter VI: Watched!

"I am glad thou hast so resolved, my husband; but hast thou considered what it may mean to thee?"

Lady Chadgrove spoke gently, laying her hand upon her husband's arm with a gesture unwontedly tender; for neither was demonstrative of the deep affection which existed between them, and he knew that only strong emotion evoked such action from her.

"I know that if I refuse to give up Brother Emmanuel I may draw down upon myself stern admonition, and perchance something worse, but I mean not that it come to open defiance of any injunction from the Church. Brother Emmanuel must leave Chad secretly, and be far away ere the week of grace expires. We are but twenty miles from the coast. This very day I shall ride thither and see what small trading vessels are in the bay about to fare forth to foreign shores. I shall negotiate with some skipper making for some Dutch port to carry thither the person whom I shall describe to him, and who will show him this ring"—and Sir Oliver displayed an emerald upon his own finger—"in token that he is the person to be taken aboard. Those trading skippers are used to such jobs, and if they be paid they know how to hold their peace and ask no questions. In Holland the brother will be safer than in any other land. The spite of the Prior of Chadwater is not like to pursue him there. But here his life is not safe from hour to hour."

"And how if it comes to be known that thou hast planned this escape?" asked the lady, a little anxiously.

"I have thought of that too, dame," replied the knight, smiling. "Let but the good brother be safely out of the country, and whilst the hue and cry is still going on here after him I will to the king and tell him all the story. Our pious Dean Colet, who knows Brother Emmanuel, and knows, too, that it is meet the corrupt practices that have crept within the pale of Holy Church should be made known, that they may be swept away and reformed, will stand my friend, and together we can so persuade his Majesty that even if the prior and Mortimer both combine to accuse me before him he will not allow their spite to touch me. The king knows right well that there is need of amendment within the Church herself. We have heard words spoken in the Cathedral of London which would be accounted rank heresy here. There is light abroad which must one day reach to the ends of the earth, and truly it sometimes seemeth to me that if the priests, the abbots, and the monks set their faces steadfastly against this light, they will fall into some terrible pitfall, but they will never quench the light with their united strength."

The lady gave one quick glance round, as though afraid that even the walls might have ears, and such sentiments were not those that it was safe to blazon abroad. But Sir Oliver, strong in the consciousness of his own deep and abiding love for the Church and for all the doctrines which she upheld, was bold to speak his mind in private when the subject broached was the one of corruptions and abuses which some of the sturdiest and noblest sons of the Church were now engaged in examining and denouncing, none dreaming of charging them with heresy on that account.

But the mother had noted the presence of Edred, who had come in quietly whilst the discussion was going on, and was now standing listening to his father's words with kindling eyes; and she made a sign to her husband which caused him to turn round, and then the boy spoke.

"The horses are ready at the door, father, and Bertram prays that he may accompany thee. He is donning his riding dress already."

"With all my heart," answered the knight readily, "an he can ride the forty miles betwixt this and tomorrow at the same hour; for I do not purpose to be long absent."

"Bertram would ride all day and all night and feel it not," answered Edred with a proud smile; "and he loves the sight and the smell of the salt sea, and would be loath to miss the chance of seeing it. Father, art thou going to aid Brother Emmanuel to fly? Is there peril for him abroad?"

The knight bent a quick, keen glance upon his son.

"I fear so, my boy; and Brother Emmanuel himself thinks that ill is meant him. And it is better to seek safety in flight at the first hint of danger than to dally and delay, and perhaps find at last that it is too late to fly. Thou, my son, wilt for this one day and night be left in charge of thy mother and thy home and all within it; for I must needs take with me Warbel and a score of our stoutest fellows, for the lonely road to the coast is none too safe for travellers of the better sort. Be thou watchful and vigilant, and keep thine eyes and thine ears alike open. Heed well that the gates be closed early, and that all be made safe, and let not Brother Emmanuel adventure himself without the walls. Use all discretion and heed, and fare thee well. I shall reach the coast tonight, and do my business with all speed, and be in the saddle again with the light of dawn, so thou mayest look to see us again before noon."

And with a tender farewell to his wife, the knight mounted and rode away with his gallant little train; and the lady looked after him from the window, and said to Edred, who quickly came to her to learn more, if he could, of the words he had recently heard:

"Now may the blessed saints and our Lord Himself be with him! for no braver and truer gentleman lives in the length and breadth of this land. There be few, indeed, who would imperil their own safety rather than yield up one who is after all little more than a stranger. Heaven send that he repent not this deed! May God be with him in all his ways!"

"My mother," said Edred cautiously, "is it that Brother Emmanuel is in sore peril? He is so devout and faithful a son of the Church that it is hard to credit it."

"In sooth, my son, these be matters hard to be understood; but thy father truly holds that he were safer out of this country and out of reach of the Prior of Chadwater and the Lord of Mortimer. Men's words can be turned and twisted till the best may be accused of heresy; and again, if a monk has fallen beneath the wrath of his superior, no man may tell what would befall were he to return to the power of his spiritual father. Sure those holy men who founded the orders of godly recluses little dreamed what those places might become in time, and with the ever-increasing love of ease and wealth which seems implanted in the heart of man.

"Heaven pardon me if I speak or think amiss! but it is strange to hear and see what passes in the world. But one must use all caution even in thought, and I would not have thee speak aught of this save in a whisper in thy brother's ear, that he too may use all caution and discretion till we can find occasion to send Brother Emmanuel forth in safety.

"We have a week before us ere he will be summoned hence. Strive that none shall suspect aught of difference or coming change. Keep well the hours of study. Give none occasion for remark. For all we know, a spy may be in our midst; and at least any servant of ours might well be questioned by any of the monks of Chadwater, to whom he might go to confess, as to what was passing in the house, and see no hurt in answering questions. Wherefore be very wise and discreet, and give none occasion for remark.

"Thou dost understand me, my son? I may trust thee? Remember that thine own father's welfare may be imperilled by the veriest trifle should men suspect him of striving to outwit the prior."

Edred's eyes expressed a great comprehension and sympathy. He took his mother's hand and kissed it, slightly bending the knee.

"Thou mayest trust me, sweet mother," he answered. "Methinks I know well all thou wouldst say. I will be cautious, and I will teach caution to Julian. No harm shall come to any beneath this roof from word or deed of ours."

And then the lady went to her delayed household duties, whilst Edred went in search of his brother, to take him to the room where their studies were usually prosecuted, that the household wheels might revolve after the accustomed manner.

But Julian was nowhere to be seen. Edred sought him and called him lustily, till at length the old seneschal at the gate heard him, and informed him that his brother had gone a short distance on foot with the travellers, but that he would doubtless be back ere long.

Julian was light and fleet of foot as a deer, and often ran for many miles beside his father's charger, the nature of the wooded country round Chad giving him many advantages. Edred wandered forth a little way to meet him on his return, and was presently aware of a cowled figure standing close against a great beech tree, and so motionless and rigid was the attitude that the boy had to look somewhat closely to be certain that it was not a part of the tree trunk itself.

He paused and examined the figure with an intense curiosity not unmixed with suspicion. His own light footfall did not appear to have been heard, and the motionless figure, partly concealed behind the tree, remained in the same rigid attitude, as though intently watching some approaching object.

For a moment a superstitious thrill ran through the boy's frame. He had heard stories of ghostly visitants to these woods, some of which wore the garb of the monks of the neighbouring priory; but he had never seen any such apparition, and would not have thought of it now had it not been for the peculiar and unnatural quietude of this figure. As it was, he paused, gazing intently at it, wondering if indeed it were a being of flesh and blood.

He was just summoning up courage to go forward and salute it, when it moved forward in a gliding and cautious fashion. Edred felt ashamed of his momentary thrill of fear, for he recognized at once the awkward gait and rolling step of Brother Fabian, and knew that his preceptor's bitterest foe was lingering in the precincts of his home.

Resolved not to be seen himself, the boy sprang up a neighbouring tree as lightly as a squirrel, and from that vantage ground he saw that his brother Julian was approaching, and that the monk had stepped out to greet the lad. He heard the sound of the nasal tones, so different from the refined accents of Brother Emmanuel.

"Peace be with thee, my son."

Julian stopped short, and slightly bent the knee. He looked up into Brother Fabian's face with a look which Edred well knew, and which implied no love for his interlocutor. A stranger, however, would be probably pleased at the frank directness of the gaze, not noting the underlying hardihood and defiance.

"Alone, my son?" questioned the brother. "Methought I saw thee not long since with thy father and brother and the servants. How comes it thou art now alone?"

"I saw thee not," answered Julian, without attempting to reply to the question.

"Belike no. I was telling my beads out here in the forest. Thou didst pass me by all unknowing; but I was nigh thy path the while nevertheless. Whither—"

"That is something strange," remarked the boy, affecting not to hear the commencement of another question; "for I could be sworn that not a squirrel or field mouse crosses my path but that I mark him down. But I may not linger thus; the hour of our studies is already here. I wish you good e'en; I must away home."

The boy would have been gone with a bound the next instant had not the monk laid a detaining hand upon his arm. Edred saw by the reluctance of his brother's mien that he resented being thus stayed.

"One moment, good my son," said Brother Fabian. "Tell me whither thy father and brother have gone. It is something too late in the day for a hunting party; yet I knew not that the good knight purposed any journey."

Edred saw the sudden flash that came into Julian's eyes. He was in an agony lest the boy should betray his father's destination, which to the astute mind of the monk might betray much more than his brother himself knew; but as he heard Julian's words he drew his breath more freely.

"Marry, hast thou not heard that my Lord of Beaumaris and Rochefort goes a-hunting tomorrow with great muster? My father has gone to join the goodly company assembling there. Wilt thou not go thither too, Master Monk, and join the revelry that will make the hall ring tonight? I trow there is welcome for all who come. I would my father had taken me."

"Go to, saucy boy, go to!" replied the brother, half piqued, half amused by the lad's boldness in thus implying that his place was at a riotous revel such as generally took place when some great baron invited his friends for a day's sport in the forest.

It was like enough that this hunting party had been arranged for the morrow, and this road certainly led to Beaumaris and Rochefort. The reply seemed to satisfy the monk, and he relaxed his grasp of the boy's arm.

"I must not keep thee from thy studies longer," he said. "Say, what does Brother Emmanuel teach you?"

"The Latin tongue and the use of the pen. Edred is a fine scribe already. And he hath taught us our letters in Greek likewise; for men are saying, he tells us, that it is shame that that language has been neglected so long, since the Holy Scriptures were written in it first."

"And he doubtless teaches you from the Holy Scriptures—"

"Ay; and from the writings of the fathers, and the mass book," added the boy. "We can all read Latin right well now. But I must be going, an it please thee-"

"Yea, verily thou wilt make a fine scholar one of these days. I am glad thou hast so good an instructor. And that reminds me—I would have speech with Brother Emmanuel some day soon. I have a missal that I think he would greatly like sight of. I misdoubt me if the prior would like it carried forth from the library; but if he would meet me one day here in the forest, I will strive to secrete it and let him have sight of it. It hath wonderful pictures and lettering such as he loves. Wilt tell him of it, boy, and ask if he will have sight of it?"

"I will tell him," answered Julian. "But I trow he will have naught to do with it an it has been filched away from the library without the reverend prior's permission. Brother Emmanuel teaches us more of the doctrine of obedience than of any other. I trow he will not budge an inch!"

A scowling look passed over the features of the monk, which had hitherto been smiling and bland. He took Julian by the arm again, and said in a low voice:

"I have something of import to speak to Brother Emmanuel. He will do well to heed me, and to hear what I have to say. Bid him be at this spot two days hence just as the sun goes down. Tell him if he come not he may live to repent it bitterly."

"Wilt thou not come back with me?" asked the boy, with a quick, distrustful look into the bloated face beneath the cowl. "Thou canst speak at ease with him at home. It were better than out here in the forest. I will lead thee to him straight, and thou canst say all that is in thine heart."

But the monk dropped his arm and turned quickly away; his voice bespoke ill-concealed irritation.

"I may not linger longer here. The vesper bell will be ringing by now. Give Brother Emmanuel my message. I would see him here in the forest. And now farewell, boy; go home as fast as thou wilt, and put a bridle on thy forward tongue, lest haply it lead thee one day into trouble."

The monk strode away in the direction of the priory. Julian took the path towards Chad, with many backward glances at the retreating figure, and hardly was it lost in the thick underwood of the forest than he found his brother standing at his side.

"Thou here, Edred? Whence camest thou?"

Edred pointed to his leafy hiding place, and laid a finger on his lips in token of caution. Julian pursued his way awhile in silence, and only when they had increased the distance betwixt themselves and the monk by many hundred yards, the elder brother said, in low tones and very cautiously:

"Have a care, Julian; methinks he is not going home. He is here as a spy, I do not doubt. I saw him watching and spying like a veritable messenger sent for such a purpose.

"O Julian, I was right glad at the answer thou gavest him about our father. I trembled lest thou shouldst say he was bound for the coast."

Both brothers had been too well trained in the creed which allows and encourages the practice of speaking falsehood and even doing evil in a good cause, to feel that any kind of shame attached to a falsehood spoken to conceal from a crafty enemy a thing it would be perilous to others for him to know. And indeed diplomatic falsehood has never been eradicated from the world even since purer light has shone in upon it. It is very hard to meet craft, falsehood, and treachery by absolute frankness and truthful honesty. In the long run it does sometimes prove to be the strongest weapon a man can wield; but the temptation to meet craft by craft, deceit by deceit, is strong in human nature, and until a much later date was openly advocated as the only policy sane men could adopt when they dealt with foes always eager to outwit them. And certainly these lads would have felt themselves justified in going to far greater lengths to save their father from suspicion, or their preceptor and friend from peril.

"Then thou heardest all? I scarce know why I spoke as I did, for our father has always been the friend of the brethren of Chadwater. But the look in the man's eye made me cautious, and I minded a few parting words spoken by Bertram. Tell me, Edred, what it is that is stirring; I would know more."

"Verily it is that Brother Emmanuel stands in some peril from those of his own community. He has written something they mislike, and they mean to have him back to answer for it. Both he and our father think that if once he enters Chadwater again he will never come forth alive. Wherefore our father will not give him up to his enemies, but will contrive for him to escape. That is what he has gone to the coast for today; and when he knows that a vessel is ready and about to sail, Brother Emmanuel must be spirited away in the dead of the night; and when the prior comes to search for him—as doubtless he will do when we can find him not—it will puzzle him to lay hands upon him, for he will be away on the high seas."

"Good!" cried Julian, delighted. "Edred, I mislike those cruel, crafty monks. Methinks they are little like the saintly men of old who fled to the cloister to rid themselves of the trammels of the world. I—"

But Edred laid a hand upon his brother's arm and checked him suddenly, pointing to another stationary figure a short distance away amongst the trees—a figure wearing the dress of a lay brother of the priory, and engaged in keeping a close and careful watch upon the main entrance to the house.

"Hist!" whispered Edred; "we must not let him hear such words. Julian, mark my word, this house is watched. The prior has set his spies upon it. He fears lest Brother Emmanuel shall escape; or else the watch is set so that any going forth of his may be known, and he will be set upon and swiftly bound, and carried away to the priory, whence, I fear me, no man will ever see him re-issue."

Both the boys had stopped short, and now they looked into each other's faces with dismay.

Their light footfalls had not been heard, nor even the sound of their voices; for a strong breeze had sprung up, and was rustling the leaves overhead, and several birds were singing lustily. The brothers had time to take in the situation without being seen themselves, and they then drew hack into a leafy covert and spoke in whispers.

"Edred, do thou go back to the house instantly and openly, and warn Brother Emmanuel that he go not forth. Belike he might come out in search of us, since the hour is long past when we should have been with him. That must not be. Go and tell him all we have seen; whilst I will creep like a wildcat round the house, and see if there be other spies keeping watch like those we have seen."

"Ay, do so," replied Edred earnestly. "I fear me we shall find that every door is watched. But if thou art seen, go forward boldly. Let none guess that you suspect aught. Doubtless each watcher is well primed with some excellent reason for being found there. Speak them friendly, and do not show distrust."

"I will be as wise as a serpent," answered the boy, with one of his keen looks which bespoke him older in mind than in years.

Edred felt that his junior was better fitted to cope with a spy than he himself; and gladly taking the other office upon himself, he walked gaily forward, whistling a roundelay as he moved, and affecting not to see the dark figure by the oak, which pressed closer and closer out of sight as the lad strode by.

"Verily he means to remain unseen," thought Edred to himself. "If he had not been a spy he would have greeted me as I passed. He is after no good. Thank Heaven we have seen and heard what we have! We can so manage now that Brother Emmanuel set not foot beyond the courtyard for long enough to come—not till he may sally forth to make his way to the coast."

And then a sudden fear smote the boy that per chance this night journey to the coast might not be so easy to accomplish as had been hoped. If the cunning prior had set a watch upon Chad with the very object of preventing the escape of his intended victim, might it not well be that his father's forethought would be of no avail?

But it would not do to lose heart—time might show a way of escape; and Edred hurried within, and found Brother Emmanuel awaiting his tardy pupils, the great Bible open before him, the sunset light illuminating his face till, to the boy's ardent imagination, it seemed to be encircled by a nimbus.

His story was soon excitedly told, and as Brother Emmanuel heard of Sir Oliver's sudden journey, a look almost as of pain crossed his face.

"I have told thy father that I cannot and will not suffer harm to befall him and his through his kindness to me. Boy, boy, these be evil days in which to offend the powers that be; and it were better, far better, I should give myself up to death than that hurt should fall upon those I love and those who have befriended me with such generosity and love."

But Edred passionately disclaimed and explained.

"Brother, holy father, speak not so! thou wilt break our hearts! We love thee! thou knowest that we love thee! And we think, we are assured, that we can yet save thee, and ourselves too. Do not break our hearts by giving thyself up ere we have tried our utmost. It may be—nay, I am assured of it—that our blessed Saviour has a great work for thee to do for Him somewhere. Has He not Himself charged His servants if they be persecuted in one city to flee to another? He has not bid them give themselves up to their foes, to be hindered from doing the work He has put it into their hearts to do.

"Pardon my forwardness if I seem to teach my preceptor. I do but repeat words thou hast taught me. Stay with us—stay at Chad. There be ways and means both for hiding and for flight of which few know or dream. Let us have this alms to do for our Lord, that we hide and save one of His servants. Thou canst little know what grief and sorrow thou wouldst cause to us, or thou couldst not talk of giving thyself up."

The boy's earnestness was so deep that it could not but produce an impression. Although full of heroic courage and capabilities of self sacrifice, it was against human nature that Brother Emmanuel should desire to cast away his life, and that not by raising a protest for any point of conscience, but simply to be quietly put out of the way, that he might no longer expose the luxury and vice prevailing in the monastic retreat of which he was a member.

He had seen a row of underground niches, some of which had been walled up; and tradition asserted that living monks had been thus buried alive for being untrue to their vows. He quite believed the prior capable of accusing him of the same sin and ordering him to a like fate. In the eyes of the haughty ecclesiastic such a betrayal of cloister secrets would be looked upon as treachery to his vows, whilst in reality it was his very love for his vows, and his horror at their violation, which had inspired the pen that had poured forth burning words of denunciation and scorn. To die openly for the cause would have been one thing—a martyr has ofttimes spoken more eloquently by his death than by his life—but to be thus buried in a living grave would benefit none; and who would not shrink from such a fate?

The pause which succeeded Edred's impassioned appeal was broken by the entrance of Julian, flushed and heated.

"It is as we thought. The house is watched. There be six or seven spies posted around it—most of them lay brothers, but some monks themselves. Every entrance is watched closely. None can go in or out unmarked by one or another. Doubtless they have some signal which may at any time bring all of them together to one spot.

"Brother Emmanuel, thou must not adventure thyself beyond the courtyard till this watch ceases. Were they spies of my Lord of Mortimer's, we might go forth and drive them hence. But none may lay a finger on a monk. They are all ready with a story that they are on the watch for some heretic in hiding in the woods. I spoke to one to see what he would say, and he began about the hunchback of the fair, whom they have not caught yet, and professed to be watching for him. Doubtless they would all say the same did any question them; but they strive to keep out of sight as far as may be, and some have found hollow trees where they might pass days and nights and none be the wiser."

There could be no study for the boys that day; they were too deeply moved and excited. Moreover, Edred had his father's charge to keep, and as sundown was nigh at hand, the two brothers visited every gate and portal and saw the house made fast within and without.

An air of excitement and mystery seemed to permeate the place. The servants had caught some of the infection, and whispers of loyalty and affection were murmured many times in the boys' ears as they pursued their round. At last, all being safely ordered, they went by common consent to their own room, and stood looking at the secret door which led to the hiding place none knew of but themselves and Warbel.

"I trow we shall need it now," said Edred. "But all is in readiness for the fugitive; all has been done save to bring in the victuals. Brother, shall we do that this very night? I would there were a supply there for a month, and a couple of gallon jars of good mead and some bottles of wine. We must put water there, too, but not till the last minute. They say men must have water, else they die; but sure they could live for long on good mead and ale. Hath Bertram any plan for getting water to the chamber save what we can carry ourselves? He said he would not rest till we had done somewhat; but—"

A light sparkled in Julian's eyes.

"Come, and thou shalt see, thou brother of books," he said. "Whilst thou hast been doing thy penance for what sin we know not, and been reading amain with Brother Emmanuel, we have not been idle. Come, and I will show thee what we have contrived. I trow none need perish of thirst in the secret chamber now who knows aught of our contrivance."

With eager steps Julian led the way, and Edred no less eagerly followed. It was very dark in the secret chamber; but the means of kindling a light were now there, and soon a small dim lantern was lighted.

"Come hither," said Julian, taking the light and leading the way into a corner that lay beneath the leads of the house; and when there Edred saw a metal trough or receiver, rudely made but effectual for the purpose of holding any liquid, something similar to what the animals in the yard were fed and watered from. Above this trough was a piece of iron pipe with a bung at the end.

"That trough and pipe Bertram and I fashioned in the blacksmith's forge with our own hands," said the boy proudly, "and I trow both are good enow and strong. Dost know what does the other end of the pipe? Why, we have inserted it into the great rainwater tank yonder above our heads, which our grandsire contrived, and which is fed from the roofs and battlements of all the towers. Thou hast heard our father tell how he read of such things in days of old, when men built wondrous palaces, and had hanging gardens, and I know not what beside. He set the tank up there, and, as thou knowest, it is not now greatly used, albeit there is always water there, and at times men draw it forth. It may not be the best or purest, but it will serve for washing, and for drinking too were a man in a great strait. It is all pure and sweet now; for in the thunderstorm three nights since Bertram got up and let off all the stagnant water by the pipe which can be opened below, and the rain soon filled it again, it poured down with such goodwill. We need not fear that any captive will die of thirst. He has but to draw this bung and water will pour forth into this trough till he stops it again. He can pour away the surplus down the pipe with the dust and such like.

"I trow whoever lives up here awhile will have no such bad housing. And if we but get the place victualled this night, it will be ready for Brother Emmanuel whensoever he may need it."



Chapter VII: An Imposing Spectacle.

"To appear at the priory with all our household! Surely, my husband, that command is something strange?"

Lady Chadgrove raised her eyes anxiously to her lord's face, to see thereon an answering look of perplexity not untinged by anxiety. He was perusing a paper held in his hands.

"Such is the missive," he remarked. "It was brought by a lay brother but now. Methinks the fellow is yet in the kitchen. Our mead is not to be lightly disdained. I will send young Julian to talk with him, and learn if may be the cause of this strange summons. I would not willingly give cause of offence to the lord prior; and the money has been paid that was promised, so methinks he means no hurt to me or mine. But it is not safe to adventure oneself into the lion's mouth. I would gladly know what is behind all this. I am something ill at ease."