CHAPTER XXII
Not John Cobb but Thomas Bettany, who knew whom here he could trust,sat on a Wednesday afternoon in gaoler’s room, drank ale with Godfreyand once more petitioned for one look at the witch.
“Nay, nay!” said Godfrey and shook his huge head. “Rule is rule! Timewas I wouldn’t ha’ minded pleasuring you, Master Thomas, but word hascome and a downright word, too, from powers. ‘Look you, Godfrey, thatyou do not open that door to any save Father Edmund who preaches towitch so that it may not be said she goes to hell without preaching!’So I do not so. You are not the first gallant who hath come and said,‘Godfrey, let me have a look at the witch!’ But no, says I to all. Ruleis rule!” He set down his can. “I could tell you, but I won’t. Notjust young will-o’-wisps like you, but one that’s older and should beweightier! But I won’t call name.”
“I can call it for you,” thought the other. “It was Somerville.”
“Coming by night, too!” said Godfrey.
Young Master Thomas Bettany made a pettish movement. “Saint John!What’s the use of carrying that great bunch of keys if you cannot turnthem at your will! Let me weigh them now!”
Godfrey, smiling broadly, laid the bunch on table. He was a giant, andThomas Bettany had been known to him since he was urchin and went by toschool. “Great key--inner ward--key you turn on her?”
Godfrey nodded. “Eh, eh! She has been a fair woman, has she not, anddanced lightly? Marsh fire, will-o’-wisp! Now she lies all her lengthon cold ground, and when I open the door she saith, ‘Is’t Friday?’”
“Hark ye! Some one’s knocking.”
Godfrey turned head. “It sounds as they were!” Rising from table, hewent to the door. “Nay, only noise in the street.”
“I thought it was the other door.”
Godfrey stepped from the room and walked a little way down the stonepassage. He returned. “‘Tis nothing! And William sits there to answer.”
“If William wakes now how doth he keep awake by door yonder at night?”
“He gets sleep enough. Prowling around, sometimes I find him sleepingwhen he should be waking! But there be few in prison and littletrouble. In old times, when the kings were fighting together, it wasdifferent!”
He took up the keys and fastened them at his belt. “If any could bringwitch to confession you’d think it would be Father Edmund, wouldn’t ye?But she’s like a block!”
“Confess what?”
“Just all the story of how the devil came to her and she sold him hersoul for ease and triumph. But he’s not a bargain-keeper--never was!And how he flew with her through air and stone wall, and set her inBrother Richard’s cell, in place of Queen of Heaven. What she said anddid, and how the devil, all of a sudden seeing that heaven had struckBrother Richard with the knowledge, ‘This is not the Queen, this is notthe true bright one!’ went about to confuse all Brother Richard’s wits,turning him into worse than Doubting Thomas, for now he doubts allthings both before and after. But she sticks to saying, ‘It was I fromthe first, and the devil was Prior Matthew, Abbot Mark consenting.’ AndFather Edmund preacheth again. Eh, but Friday cometh and she will soonbe but a story! Morgen Fay and the devil.”
Thomas Bettany rode once more with merchant’s pack to Wander forest,having first gone to Golden Ship by the water side, where he metDiccon Wright and bought him with love. It was again rose dawn. To onewho at edge of town stopped and questioned him, he said that he wasriding to Somerville Hall.
“Do you not know Sir Robert has gone to London? He rode away yesterdaywith three behind him.”
“Oh, aye! But there was message left for me. One day I’ll travelmyself! View Rome and Constantinople and Cambalu.”
“It’s in my mind that he did not wish to see Morgen Fay burn.”
“Maybe so! I’d rather myself see fairies by moonlight or a fair stillgarden.”
Ruined farm and David and Margery to whom gentlemen were gentlemen,whatever strange things they wished, and rose nobles were rose nobles.“Oh, aye! Who is there for us to tattle to save it be Dobbin and thecow? There’s naught doing like that Joan who turned to be a witch namedMorgen? We might ha’ had trouble there, but Somerville stepped in andturned it aside. So you’ll ha’ to do, Master Bettany, if there’s anymistaken doing here--”
“Aye, I will. But there’s none.”
This was a day of gold dust, still, warm, a haze and floatingstillness. Ruined farm and forest hereabouts might have had a hedgearound them like the palace of the Sleeping Beauty. No ears heardfine smithwork, for Philemon and Baucis were deaf, and went beside toplanted field. The fairies might have heard.
Mid-afternoon Thomas Bettany returned to town. Near the old wall, nowon the high road, he overtook a string of pilgrims footweary and dusty.The leader hailed him, handsome young burgher riding a fine horse.“Canst tell us, master, what inn is best for us?”
“Try the Joyful Mountain. Whence do you come?”
From Minchester, it seemed. To Saint Leofric and Silver Cross. “Andwe’ve just heard news about a fearful witch and that she’ll be burnedto-morrow. We shall see that first. Thank ye, and our blessing, master!”
Thomas Bettany gave to his family the supper hour and showed himselfduring it affectionate son and brother. “Eh, Thomas!” thought the oldmerchant, and like the pilgrims he, too, gave him blessing, though aninner one.
Marian, his sister, who was a mouse for quietness, said suddenly, “Oh,I would that to-morrow were gone by! If I were Morgen Fay to-night--”
Master Eustace Bettany rated her. “Say naught like that even in jest!”
“I was not jesting.”
“Thou’rt so far from Morgen Fay that thou shalt not say, ‘If I wereMorgen Fay--’”
“She is woman.”
“Witches have left womanhood. Be silent!”
Table was taken away. Eustace Bettany disappeared through the doorwhich led to countinghouse. Marian came to Thomas in the deep window.“Stay awhile, Thomas, and read with me ‘Romaunt of the Rose!’ Cousinhath sent us, too, ‘The Grey Damsel and Sir Launfal.’”
But Thomas could not stay. He kissed her and went forth into thesunset. By town cross they were piling wood. Saint Ethelred’s bellsrang. The young man stood and prayed.
Dusk came over all like brooding wings. Stars brightened above thecastle. Up there Montjoy, seated in his great chair, listened to PriorMatthew of Westforest.
“Not to hear of it till now--!”
“It is not yet three nights ago, Montjoy. And it seemed, and stillseemeth best to seek quietly. We have had, to my mind, too much indeedof buzz and clatter! I wish for quiet to descend upon us.”
“Ah, I also!” sighed Montjoy. “So the soul may return to her properwork! But open--all things should be open!”
“In reason, aye! But the world is idle and will make scandal if it may.”
Montjoy pressed back of clasped hands over eyes. “The world is thistleand precipice! I have fearful dreams at night. Welcome will it be tome, oh Christ, when I may go my pilgrimage!” Rising from his chair hewalked to and fro, then returning to the table, laid touch upon a greatand splendidly bound book, fine work upon fine parchment, illuminatedhead letters and borders. He touched it reverently. “See you, sobeautifully done, two hundred years ago! Chronicle of Silver Cross.I have been reading as I have read a hundred times! Miracles thena-plenty, and such goodness, such spiritual men, that all seemed grownpure Nature! I thought the gloss and freshness were all back, but I donot know--I do not know--I do not know!”
Prior Matthew said quietly, “Until this madness Brother Richard was agood and holy monk. How else should Heaven have found him as glass toshine through? And now if, as we think, he lies drowned in Wander, itdoes not seem to us self-murder. The mad are not accountable there.Again, he may have slipped and fallen. So now Our Lord may clear hismind, and his purgatory done, he will again be wise and holy.”
“Purgatory lasteth long!” said Montjoy. “Thistle and mire pit, thirstydesert, precipi
ces! And what if he did not drown but roams at large,telling with flaming eyes and tolling voice and large gesture his storyof not one but many Satans?”
“The whole region knows that he is mad. Were he so abroad, how longbefore we should have known it? Oh, we have questioners and seekersout, but quietly! Hour by hour Wander grows to us the more certain.Yesterday we dragged, but the water runs swiftly and may have carriedhim down.”
“Death. Well, who should tremble at that unless he be sold towickedness?”
Through open windows they heard compline bell. “To-morrow draws on.There will be a great concourse. Saint Leofric and Silver Cross andWestforest, country folk and all the town, seamen and pilgrims. Andwhat to see? A woman burning.”
The Prior spoke serenely, invisibly his hand making final move,providing mate. “Nay, Montjoy, Good vindicated, Ill consumed, Warningspread!”
Thomas Bettany absented himself from Middle Forest.
Dark night, clear and dark. Lights twinkled in tall houses, lanternand torch twinkled and flared in narrow streets. Glowworm pointsfrom those belated moved over the bridge. Night deepened. Lights wentout one by one, cluster by cluster. Now there were great spaces ofnaught between twinklers and flarers. Dark space widened, twinklersand flarers growing lonely, separated afar from one another. Shipsbelow the bridge had lanterns, but the ships were few. Lights lessened,lessened, until you might say Middle Forest was in darkness. Lanternsof the watch went slowly about, but wary eye might know where watch hadbeen and where it was now and where it would presently be. Cautiousfoot might tread among the three. Of course, if shout were raised,watch hearing it would come running.
Midnight and after.
Godfrey had good wine to-night, brought him by Master Thomas Bettany.Godfrey thought, “Brought for present to soften me to let him look atthe witch!” He grinned and took the wine but kept to “Rule is rule!”“Very fine Jerez sack,” explained the young merchant, “out of a lotbought in London. And will you give a stoup to William and Diggory?Diggory is a great fellow of his inches! I saw him Sunday wrestling inlong meadow.”
Godfrey drank the Jerez wine with his supper, and he poured a greatcup for William and for Diggory. They drank. “Aye, aye! Bettany knowshow to choose the best!”
Deep night.