CHAPTER XX
Richard Englefield, in Westforest cell, might lie without movement,head buried in arms, but that was when he must sleep in order to gainand keep strength, or when Prior or Brother Anselm visited him, itbeing posture good as another for a monk now in sooth going melancholymad.
Once Brother Anselm, who had been taken from strollers playing in barnsand inns, said to the Prior, “He playeth!” Whereupon the Prior strictlywatched, but at last said, “Not so. Truth!” And then, like such chessmasters, because he had bent what he thought all his mind to it andwas assured, he obstinated in his opinion of the board and every pieceupon it. “No, it is truth! I have seen it before. Melancholy thatforgets how to speak and then after a time mere childishness that willnot stint from speaking, though it be only of green fields and cowslipballs! Then silence again like an old sick hound and at last he dies!”
Brother Anselm’s doubt had been but momentary. He agreed now withPrior. Also he said, “One helpeth forth the sick hound.”
The Prior of Westforest took his lean chin from his lean hand. “I haveheard that the Greeks writ over their temples, ‘Nothing too much.’Where the good of all is in question let the soul take necessaryburdens, but not unnecessary ones! This were unnecessary.”
Richard Englefield was not going melancholy mad, though he played thathe was. He worked. He worked while he lay still upon the cold floor,face hidden by stretched arms, or when he sat moveless, staring intonaught with empty, woe-begone face. “Think me melancholy mad, do! Sothe sooner will you leave me the cell!” They went. For hours he had thedim place to himself, and at night he had it.
Monk of Silver Cross was gone, whirled away to the dark country behindChaos and there dead and buried peacefully. Here was Richard Englefieldthe master goldsmith. And yet not that either. Here was one who hadrisen behind goldsmith and monk, who had come up like a tree that wasnot suspected.
He worked, Richard the smith. He gained, no man knew how, two bits ofiron. The cell was grated. He filed through a bar and then another,and in the night-time broke the whole away. Fortune or wonder or themiraculous or some natural air into which he had broken was with him.It might have been the last, his will was so awakened, so in action.His fury towered, but it was still fury, very deep and dangerous,bitter passion of a man with mind and will. He saw Success and drew herto him as giants draw. In the dead night he got away.
Westforest formed but a small House and it lay close to Wander.Stripping off his robe he made it into a bundle and with rope girdletied it upon his shoulders. Then, naked, he plunged into the Wander andswam a mile downstream. Coming to the bank he rested, then swam thesecond mile, under the late risen moon. Cocks were crowing. He passedgrey meadow and dreaming corn and came to a forest where it overhungthe Wander. “Here is good place to leave!” He quit the water, shook hisbody and dried it with fern, untied and unrolled monk’s gown and put iton. “Brother Richard? Nay, monk is as will is! Richard Englefield, asmith in gold and silver!”
He was away now from Wander, in the forest, the morn pink above thetrees, violet among and beneath the branches. In yonder direction laySilver Cross and not so far, neither. Middle Forest! Could he get,unmarked, to Middle Forest. Had he one friend there--but he had none.Could he get to the shipping upon the river, below the bridge. Couldhe find a boat that would take him to the sea and then he cared notwhere! He saw Success. “Aye, I will!” But this robe must somehow bechanged for world-dress, and he must have a purse and money in it. Hardto manage! But Success was his Moorish slave and would bring them.
He strode on. He was going toward the town through what was left of theancient, all-covering forest. Hereabouts was yet a great wood with deerand hare and bird and fox. Paths ran through but between them spreadbounteously the forest. First light gave way to gold light. He washungry. He took the crust of bread that he had saved from yesterday andate it as he walked. Also he found strawberries. When the sun was wellup he came to rest under an oak, to think it out.
He had some hope that Westforest would hold that he had drownedhimself. Yesterday had been a hot and livid day, ending in storm. Theywould be able to trace him to the water edge. Would they drag theWander, seeing that the Prior must wish to make sure? But the Wanderrunning swiftly might carry him down. Using Prior Matthew’s eyes hesaw monk caught among stones on Wander bottom, or, a log, shoved downWander length to greater river and so at last to sea, white bonesfor merman’s children. He thought with Prior’s brain, “So, it is verywell!” And if Wander had him not, but he strayed on dry land, BrotherRichard of Silver Cross, mad now though once greatly blessed, therewould ensue some trouble of taking him, some explaining, but no morethan that! Richard Englefield saw the net, how strong and wide it was,the fishers here being so much mightier than the fish. So mighty werethey that they could spare the fish even if it leapt clear. For if itwent and told all other fish and fishermen, what odds? Mind in all wasmade up what to believe! Richard Englefield laughed, but his laughterwas worse to hear than had been sobbing.
He tried to make a plan, but it was hard to plan out of this! Beststill trust Success. He took a pebble and tossed it, then followedit. Narrow road little travelled. He walked upon this some way andsaw a horseman coming. Out of track into a hazel brake, wait and seewhat like he might be! Sun glinted, boughs waved, birds sang, over allthings lay a pearly moisture after storm.
Young Thomas Bettany, riding from town because town oppressed him,taking idle way and ancient road because to-day bustle liked him not,errandless and leaving John Cobb at home, rode through the old forestwith hanging head. He would mend the world if he knew how, but he didnot know how.
Coming to brake his horse started aside. Thomas crossed himself. A monkwas standing there, seemed to have stepped forth from it. “Is it aghost? By Saint John, Brother! you look it and you do not look it!”
He knew him now, having seen him at Silver Cross thrice, maybe, sincethe finding of Holy Well. Thomas Bettany felt himself tremble a little._Brother Richard_--_if he were mad_--but then he remembered himselfthat he was hardly so! They said he was mad, an Abbot and a Prior whosedeeds might not be scanned. Brother Richard! Though some were guiltythe monk was not. Again he saw things “in a flash.” The monstrousdisappointment--Heaven’s boon companion, then fall--fall--fall! Howsharp the stones and black the land!
He spoke in a whisper. “Did you break last night from Westforest?” Allthe countryside knew that Brother Richard, now alas! utterly mad, wasto be hidden there in a grated cell.
Richard Englefield knew not why Success was here. He said, “You know methen? Who are you?”
“Thomas Bettany, merchant’s son.”
“I greatly need,” said the man by the hazels, “burgher’s dress, a purseof money, and to reach some ship in river that presently makes sail.”Having spoken, he waited again upon Success.
“I shall have to ride to Middle Forest and back,” said Thomas Bettany.“Over yonder a mile lies a ruined farm. No one goes by wood that way.Walk till you see the house through trees, then lie close till I come.”Few words more and he turned horse and presently disappeared down theleafy road.
Englefield moved off into deep forest toward the ruined farm. It wasSuccess. It was of a piece with breaking free from Priory. Maybe therewere gods who said, “Thou touchedst nadir, now we let thee rise!” Maybeit was the Will, so fulfilled and potent that it became magician. Trustfar enough, and the bird comes flying! But not trust like that atSilver Cross--no!
Deep wood, beech and ash and oak, very silent, very lonely. At lastit thinned and he saw through trees an old, small, ruinous farmhouse,broken, neglected, haunted maybe. He made out a man slowly working ina field. A grey horse grazed, a cock crew, but there seemed no dog tobark.
He drew back under trees, found a bed of leaf and moss and threwhimself down. He was tired, tired! Body was tired but not spirit. Thatshould not flag. No, no! said the will. But sleep--it was necessary tosleep.
He did so for a time, but then he waked clearly and
suddenly. Wherehe had been in dreams he did not know, nor where in the deep realmbehind dreams. But there had been large and happy stillness, fullocean and serene sky. Whence--whence? From heaven, and had he mountedthere, the True Ones pitying? From heaven’s opposite? Then againhad come upon him that rapture that befell at Silver Cross--threenights’ rapture--rapture at the feet of a harlot of harlots! Evil hadbeen the rapture through and through, that had seemed so heavenlyglorious, heavenly sweet! Never to have guessed--never to haveknown--to have been incapable of knowledge! True and false alike tohim, hideousness and beauty alike, he who had thought he knew beauty!Incapable--incapable. That had seemed Success--oh, high Success!
The sun rode high and streamed in warmly. He found shadow and lay uponhis face, arms outstretched along the earth, hands breaking twigs withwhich the ground was strewn.
This part of earth looked full to sun, then glided from strongestvision, then took it obliquely, beginning to think of cool, dark restfrom it, filled with memories. At three by country dials he hearda horse brushing through the forest and presently saw Bettany withmerchant’s pack strapped before him, not a pack large and noticeable,but sufficing to show that the House of Bettany attended to businessand was not too proud to attend in person.
At four by dial Richard Englefield stood under the oak in good hosen,shoon, shirt and doublet, with cap, with cloak, with leather belt andknife, with leather purse and silver in it and hidden in bosom pocketwoollen purse with gold. Gaunt he was as any wolf, and overcast withpallour, needing days of sun and air to bring him back to what he wasa year ago in Silver Cross, or further back to the gold-brown mastersmith not unknown in cities and in princes’ courts. Just that smithwould never come back. This smith had himself been laid upon a Vulcan’sanvil. The fire showed, the hammer showed.
Thomas Bettany said, “Monk not again because of them hereabouts?”
“Not so. Because of myself.”
The other continued, “God wot there is not the old saintliness! I haveheard wise men cry that unless there came reform God will loose lions.”
“Perhaps. But come as it may I am absolved from monastery.”
“Abbot Mark and Prior Matthew be not everywhere. There are good abbots,good, religious houses--”
“Aye, I doubt not. Even at Silver Cross and Westforest are some truepilgrims and finders. But I am absolved. Brother Richard lies drownedin Wander. This is Richard Englefield, a smith in gold and silver. Butsince it may not be wisdom to say that till I reach London port ormaybe France, then Richard Dawn, a traveller. What of ship?”
“It is the _Vineyard_, lying in the pool and sailing day afterto-morrow at dawn. The master, a young man, Diccon Wright, is beholdento me. I found him at the Golden Ship, and he will do it.”
“Day after to-morrow at dawn.”
“There is nothing for it,” said Bettany, “but that you should bidewhere you are through to-night and to-morrow. Then at eve I will comewith a horse for you. Canst ride?”
“Oh, aye!”
“There is no moon. We make through country to pool side and find therea boat that Diccon sends. So the _Vineyard_ and away.”
“You are good to me, brother!”
The other answered, “I somehow owe it. And not to you only. But hereonly does it seem that I can pay.”
He took from pack loaf of bread, pound of cheese and a bottle of ale.“Here we be! Nay, I have had dinner. Well, I will eat a little to keepyou in countenance, Master Dawn!”
They ate under the greenwood tree, close screened around with thornand fern. “It will be cold to-night sleeping here. There is a loft atthe farm. The old man and woman dodder and are blind and deaf. Thereis a straw bed. But strange and elfin were it, I think,” said Bettanyslowly, “if you slept there.”
“In old years I have slept out colder nights than this is like to be.And a cell is cold.”
“Well, the cloak is thick. Nay, drink! I may have my fill when I getback to father’s house.”