CHAPTER IX
WHAT MUST BE
Howel the Tall walked slowly to the presbytery, the house of Pabo, thatwas soon to be his no longer. The tidings that an armed body of men wason its way into the peaceful valley--whose peace was to be foreverbroken up, so it seemed--had produced a profound agitation. Every onewas occupied: some removing their goods, and themselves preparing toretire to the hovel on the summer pastures; those who had no _hafod_ toreceive them were concealing their little treasures.
A poor peasant was entreating a well-to-do farmer to take with him hisdaughter, a young and lovely girl, for whom he feared when the lawlessservants of the bishop entered Caio.
But all could not take refuge in the mountains, even if they had placesthere to which to retire. There were their cattle to be attended to inthe valley; the grass on the heights was burnt, and would not shootagain till spring. The equinoctial gales were due, and rarely failed tokeep their appointments. There were mothers expecting additions to theirfamilies, and little children who could not be exposed to the privationsand cold of the uplands. There were no stores on the mountains; hay andcorn were stacked by the homes in the valley.
Some said, "What more can these strangers do than they have done? Dothey come, indeed, to thrust on us a new pastor? They will not drive uswith their pikes into church to hear what he has to say! They are notbringing with them a batch of Flemings to occupy our farms and take fromus our corn-land and pasture! The Norman is no peaceful agriculturist,and he must live; therefore he will let the native work on, that he mayeat out of his hands." And, again, others said: "There will be timeenough to escape when they flourish their swords in our faces." But evensuch as resolved to remain concealed their valuables.
The basin of the sanctuary was extensive; it was some seven miles longand five at its widest, but along the slopes of the hills that broke theevenness of its bottom and on the side of the continuous mountains werescattered numerous habitations. And it would be an easy matter for thoseon high ground commanding the roads to take to flight when themen-at-arms were observed to be coming their way.
Howel entered the presbytery.
Like every other house in Wales, excepting those of the great princes,it comprised but two chambers--that which served as hall and kitchen,into which the door opened, and the bed-chamber on one side. There wasno upper story; its consequence as the residence of the chief wasindicated by a detached structure, like a barn, that served asbanqueting-hall on festive occasions, and where, indeed, all such ascame on Sundays from distances tarried and ate after divine service, andawaited the vespers which were performed early in the afternoon. Therewere stables, also, to accommodate the horses of those who came tochurch, or to pay their respects, and to feast with their chief.
With the exception of these disconnected buildings, the house presentedthe character of a Welsh cottage of the day in which we live. It wasdeficient in attempt at ornament, and, unlike a medieval edifice of therest of Europe, lacked picturesqueness. At the present, a Welsh cottageor farmhouse is, indeed, of stone, and is ugly.
Although the presbytery was lacking in beauty, of outline and detail, itwas convenient as a dwelling. As Howel entered, he saw that the body ofthe hermit still lay exposed, preparatory to burial, with the candlesburning at its head. But Morwen was the sole person in attendance on it,as the professional wailer had decamped to secrete the few coins shepossessed, and, above all, to convey to and place under the protectionof the Church a side of bacon, the half of a pig, on which shecalculated to subsist during the winter.
By the side of the fire sat a lean, sharp-featured boy, with highcheek-bones; a lad uncouth in appearance, for one shoulder was higherthan the other.
He stirred the logs with his foot, and when he found one that was burntthrough, stooped, separated the ends, and reversed them in the fire.
This was Goronwy Cam, kinsman of Pabo, the son of the late Archpriest,who had been passed over for the chieftainship, partly on account of hisyouth, mainly because of his deformity, which disqualified him for theecclesiastical state.
He lived in the presbytery with his cousin, was kindly, affectionatelytreated by him, and was not a little humored by Morwen, who pitied hiscondition, forgave his perversity of temper, and was too familiar withill-humors, experienced during her mother's life, to resent hisoutbreaks of petulance.
"Go forth, Goronwy," said Howel. "Bid Morgan see that the grave for ourdead saint be made ready. They are like to forget their duties to thedead in their care for themselves. Bid him expedite the work of thesexton."
"Why should I go? I am engaged here."
"Engaged in doing nothing. Go at once and speak with Morgan. Timepresses too hard for empty civilities."
"You have no right to order me, none to send me from this house."
"I have a right in an emergency to see that all be done that isrequisite for the good of the living, and for the repose of the dead. Doyou not know, boy, that the enemy are on their way hither, and that whenthey arrive you will no further have this as your home?"
"Goronwy, be kind and do as desired," said Morwen.
The young man left, muttering. He looked but a boy; he was in fact aman.
When he had passed beyond earshot, Morwen said, "Do not be short withthe lad; he has much to bear, his infirmities of body are ever presentto his mind, and he can ill endure the thought that but for them hewould have been chief in Caio."
"I have not come hither to discuss Goronwy and his sour humors," saidHowel; "but to announce to you that Pabo is gone."
"Whither?"
"That I do not know."
"For how long?"
"That also I cannot say."
"Is he in danger?" Morwen's color fled, and she put her hand to herbosom.
"At present he is in none; for how long he will be free I cannot say,and something depends on you."
"On me! I will do anything, everything for him."
"To-morrow the sleuth-hounds will be after him: his safety lies inremaining hid."
"But why has he not come to me and told me so?"
"Because it is best that you know nothing, not even the direction hehas taken in his flight. Be not afraid--he is safe so long as he remainsconcealed. As for you and that boy, ye shall both come to my house, forto-morrow he will be here who will claim this as his own. The bishop whohas stepped into David's seat has sent him to dispossess our Archpriestof all his rights, and to transfer them to Cadell, his chaplain."
"But it is not possible. He does not belong to the tribe."
"What care these aliens about our rights and our liberties? With themailed fists they beat down all law."
"And he will take from us our house?"
"If you suffer him."
"How can I, a poor woman, resist?"
"I do not ask you to resist."
"Then what do you require of me?"
"Leave him no house into which to step and which he may call his own."
"I understand you not."
"Morwen, say farewell you must to these walls--this roof. It willdishonor them to become the shelter of the renegade, after it has beenthe home of such as you and Pabo, and the Archpriests of our race andtribe for generations--aye, and after it has been consecrated by thebody of this saint." He indicated the dead hermit.
"But again I say, I do not understand. What would you have me do?"
"Do this, Morwen." Howel dropped his voice and drew nearer to her. Helaid hold of her wrist. "Set fire to the presbytery. The wind is fromthe east; it will cause the hall to blaze also."
She looked at him in dismay and doubt.
"To me, and away from this, thou must come, and that boy with thee. Thouwouldest not have Pabo taken from thee and given to some Saxon woman.So, suffer not this house that thou art deprived of to become thehabitation of another--one false to his blood and to his duties."
"I cannot," she said, and looked about her at the walls, at every objectagainst them, at the hearth, endeared to her by many ties. "I cannot
--Icannot," and then: "Indeed I cannot with him here,"--and she indicatedthe corpse.
"It is with him here that the house must burn," said Howel.
"Burn the hermit--the man of God!"
"It would be his will, could he speak," said Howel. "He, throughout hislife, gave his body to harsh treatment and treated it as the enemy ofhis soul. Now out of Heaven he looks down and bids you--he as a saint inlight--do this thing. He withholds not his cast-off tabernacle, ifthereby he may profit some."
"Nay, let him be honorably buried, and then, if thou desirest it, letthe house blaze."
"It must be, Morwen, as I say. Hearken to me. When they come to-morrowthey will find the presbytery destroyed by fire, and we will say thatthe Archpriest has perished in it."
"But they will know it is not so. See his snowy beard!"
"Will the flames spare those white hairs?"
"Yet all know--all in Caio."
"And I can trust them all. When the oppressor is strong the weak must besubtle. Aye, and they will be as one man to deceive him, for they hatehim, and they love their true priest."
"I cannot do it."
"It may be that the truth will come out in a week, a month--I cannotsay; but time will be gained for Pabo to escape, and every day is ofimportance."
"If it must be--but, O Howel, it is hard, and it seemeth to meunrighteous."
"It is no unrighteousness to do that which must be."
"And it must?"
"Morwen, you shall not lay the fire. I will do it--but done it mustbe."