CHAPTER IV.
I must now introduce the reader to a scene then very common inEngland, but which would now be sought for in vain--although, to someof the habits of those times a large class of people have a strongtendency to return. Round a little village green, having, as usual,its pond--the merry-making place of ducks and geese--its two or threeclumps of large trees, and its two roads crossing each other in themiddle, were erected several buildings of very different look andmagnitude. Nearly three sides of the green were occupied by merehovels or huts, the walls of mud, the roofs rudely thatched, and thewindows of so small a size as to admit very little light into adwelling, which, during the working hours of each weary day, saw verylittle of its laborious tenants. Amongst these were two larger houses,built of stone, richly ornamented, though small in size, having glazedwindows, and displaying all the signs and tokens of the ecclesiasticalarchitecture of the day, though neither of them was a church orchapel, but simply the dwelling-places of some secular priests, with asmall following of male choristers, who were not permitted to inhabitany portion of the neighbouring abbey. Along the fourth side of thegreen, where the ground rose considerably, extended an enormously highwall, pierced in the centre with a fine old portal with twobattlemented turrets, one on either side. From the middle of thegreen, so high was this wall and portal that nothing could be seenbeyond it. But, from the opposite side, the towers and pinnacles ofthe abbey itself peeped up above the inclosure.
If one followed the course of the wall, to the left as one lookedtowards the abbey, passing between it and the swine-herd's cottage,one came to a smaller door--a sort of sally-port, we should havecalled it, had the place been a fortress--from which a path woundaway, down into a valley, with a stream flowing through it; and then,turning sharp to the right at the bottom, the little footway ascendedagain towards a deep old wood, on the verge of which appeared a smallGothic building with a stone cross in front. The distance from theabbey to St. Magdalen's cell, as it was called, was not in realityvery great in a direct line; but the path wound so much, in order toavoid a steep rise in the ground and a deep ravine through which inrainy weather flowed a torrent of water, that its length could not beless than three quarters of a mile.
The little door in the abbey wall, which I have mentioned, was strongand well secured, with a loop-hole at each side for archers to shootthrough, in case of need. Over the door, too, was a semicircularaperture, in which hung an enormously large bell, baptized in formeryears, according to the ordinary custom, but which, whatever was thename it received at its baptism, was known amongst the peasantry asthe "Baby of St. Clare." Now, whether St. Clare, whoever she was, had,during the time of her mortal life, a baby or none, I cannot pretendto say; but certain it is, that the good nuns were as angry at thename which had been bestowed upon the bell, as if the attributing aninfant to their patroness had been a direct insult to each of themindividually.
This bell was used only upon special occasions, the ordinary access tothe abbey being through the great gates; but, if any danger menaced inthe night, if any of the peasantry were taken suddenly ill aftersunset, if any of the huts in the hamlet caught fire--which was by nomeans unusual--or any other business of importance occurred during thehours of darkness, the good people of the neighbourhood applied to theBaby of St. Clare, whose loud voice soon brought out one of theinferior sisters to inquire what was the matter. Passing on from thisdoorway, and leaving the path towards St. Magdalene's cell on theleft, one could circle round the whole extent of the walls, whichcontained not less than five or six acres of ground. But no otherdoorway was to be seen, till the great portal was again reached. Thewalls themselves were of exceeding thickness, and had a walk all roundthem on a sort of platform at the top. It would have required cannonindeed to have effected a breach at any point; but, at the same time,their great extent rendered them indefensible against the means ofescalade, by any force which the good sisters could call to their aid.
Within the great portal was a large open court, flanked on three sidesby habitable buildings. To the right, was what was called thevisitors' lodging, where a very considerable number of persons couldbe accommodated, in small rooms very tolerably furnished according tothe mode of the day. There, too, a large dining-hall afforded spacefor the entertainment to the many guests who from time to time partookof the abbey's hospitality. The opposite side was devoted to officesfor the lay sisters and servants of the abbey; and the space in frontof the great gates was occupied by the chapel, into one part of whichthe general public was admitted, while the other, separated by arichly-wrought stone screen, was assigned to the nuns themselves. Asmall stone passage closed by an iron gate ran between the offices andthe chapel, and extended, round the back of the former and along thenorth-western wall to the little doorway which I have mentioned;while, on the other hand, an open door and staircase led to theparlour, which I have mentioned in a preceding chapter, as that inwhich friends or relatives might converse with any of the recluses,through the grate which divided the room into two. Behind the chapelwas another court, cloistered all round, and beyond that the main bodyof the building.
All these arrangements would seem to show, and, indeed, such was theintention, that the sisterhood were cut off from all immediatecommunication with the male part of the race; but yet, in truth,neither the order nor the abbey was a very strict one--so little sothat, twenty or thirty years before, the sisterhood had not altogetherescaped scandal. All occasion for gossiping tongues, however, had beentaken away by the conduct of the existing abbess, whose rule was firmthough mild; but, at the same time, she neither scrupled to indulgeher nuns in all innocent liberty, such as going out once or twice inthe year in parties of six or seven together, nor to use her ownpowers of free action in receiving, even in the interior of thebuilding, during the day time, any of the officers of the abbey,whether lay or clerical, with whom she might wish to speak, and ingoing out mounted on her mule, and accompanied by several attendants,to inspect the several estates of the foundation, or visit any of theneighbouring towns. This just medium between extreme severity andimproper license secured her against all evil tongues; and the abbeywas in high repute at the time of which I speak.
About one o'clock, on the day after the woodman's visit, which I havedescribed, some twenty or thirty people were gathered together on thegreen just before the great portal. But this was no well-dressed andsplendid assemblage, no meeting of the high, the rich, and the lordly.It was a very motley band, in which rags and tatters greatlypredominated. The most aristocratic of the crowd was probably anitinerant piper, who, with an odd-shaped cap on his head, somewhatlike the foot of an old stocking, but spreading out at the edges inthe fashion of a basin, had a good coarse brown cloth coat on hisback, and hosen on his legs, which, though not new, were not in holes.He kept his bag tight under his arm, not venturing to regale thedevout ears of the nuns with the sounds of his merry minstrelsy; buthe promised himself and his fellows to cheer their hearts with a tuneafter their daily dole had been distributed, to receive which was theobject of their coming.
They were not kept long waiting, indeed; for one of the elder sisterssoon appeared, followed by two stout serving women, dressed in greygowns, with white hoods and wimples, each carrying an enormous basketfilled with large hunches of bread and fragments of broken meat. Thecontents of these panniers were distributed with great equity, andsavoured with a few words, sometimes of ghostly advice, sometimes ofreproach, and sometimes of consolation.
Thus it was, "There Hodge, take that, and do not grumble another timeas thou didst yesterday. A contented heart makes food wholesome; andyou, Margery Dobson, I do wonder that you do not think it shame tolive upon the abbey dole, with those good stout hands of yours."
"Ah, dear mother," replied the person she addressed, in a whiningtone; "that is always the way. Everything goes by seeming. I vow I amdropsical all over; and then folks say it is all fat. I could no moredo a day's work like another, than I could take up the abbey tower andcarry it off."
The good sister shook her head, and went on to another, saying--
"Ah! Jackson, if you would but quit your vile drunken ways, you neednever come here for the dole. Two hours' work each day would furnishyou with as much food as you get here in a week. Ah, Janet Martin, mypoor thing," she continued, addressing a woman, who had contrived toadd some little scraps of black to the old gown which she wore, "therewere no need to give you any of the dole, for the lady abbess willsend down to you by and by; but here, as there is plenty for allto-day, take this for yourself and the babes. I dare say they'll eatit."
The woman made a melancholy gesture with her head, replying merely--
"They have not tasted a morsel since last night, sister Alice."
"Well, take heart, take heart," answered the nun in a kindly tone."You can't tell what may be coming. We are all very sorry for you andfor your poor children; and your good husband who is no more, rest hissoul, has our prayers night and morning."
"Blessings upon you, sister Alice, and upon the house," replied thepoor widow; and the nun turned to the itinerant musician.
"What, Sam the piper come back from Tamworth. I trust, brother, youremembered all your promises, and did not get drunk at the fair."
"Never was drunk once," replied the piper boldly; but the next moment,he turned his head partly over his shoulder, and winked shrewdly withhis eye, adding, "The ale was so thin that a butt of it would not havetipsied a sucking lamb. So I have little credit; for my well-seasonedstaves would have drunk the whole beer in the town without rolling.But nevertheless, I was moderate, very moderate, and drank with duediscretion--seeing that the liquor was only fit to season sow's meat.Well, I wot, they got very little grains out of each barrel; and Ihope he that brewed it has had as bad a cholic as I have had eversince."
"Well, get you each to the buttery, one by one as you are served; andthere you will get a horn of ale which won't give you the cholic,though it won't make you drunk," said the good sister; and then,beckoning to the piper, she enquired in an easy tone: "What news wasstirring at Tamworth, Sam Piper? There's always something stirringthere, I think."
"Bless your holy face," answered the piper; "there was little enoughthis time. Only, just as the fair was over, some gay nobles camein--looking for King Richard, I wot; and a gorgeous train they made ofit; but if it was the King they sought, they did not find him, for hehas gone on to Nottingham with his good Queen."
"But who were they? Who were they?" asked the nun, who was not withouther share of that curiosity so common among recluses. "And were theyso very splendid? How many had they in their following?"
"Why, first and foremost, lady," replied the piper, with a tone andair of secrecy and importance, "there was the young earl of Chartley.Marry, a gay and handsome gentleman as ever you set eyes on. I saw himcome up to the inn door, and speak to mine host; and every other wordwas a jest, I'll warrant. What a wit he has, and how he did run on. Itwas nothing but push and thrust, from beginning to end. Then, as forhis dress, it might have suited a prince, full of quaint conceits andbeautiful extravagance. Why his bonnet was cut all round in theBurgundy fashion, for all the world like the battlements of a castlemade in cloth, and a great white feather lolling down till it touchedhis left shoulder."
"Oh, vanity, vanity!" cried the nun. "How these young men do mockHeaven with their vanities! But what more, good brother?"
"Why then there were the sleeves of his gown," continued the piper;"what they were intended for I can't tell, unless to blow his nosewith; but they were so long and fell so heavy with the sables thattrimmed them, that I thought every minute the horse would set his feeton them. But no such thing; and though somewhat dusty he seemed freshenough."
"Well, well," said the nun. "Come to the point, and tell us no moreabout dress, for I care not for such vanities."
"Good faith, but there were some pieces of it would have made youcare," replied the piper. "However, I do not know what you mean by thepoint."
"Who were the other people; for you said there were many?" demandedthe nun sharply.
"So there were, so there were," replied the wandering musician. "Therewas Sir Edward Hungerford, a gay gallant of the court, not so handsomeas the other, but as grandly dressed; and then there was Sir CharlesWeinants, a very reverend and courtly gentleman, with comely greyhair. There--talking of reverencies--there was a godly friar with agrey gown and shaven crown."
"That speaks well for the young lords," observed the nun. "They cannotbe such idle little-thrifts as you make them out, if they travelaccompanied by a holy man."
"Nay, Heaven forbid that I should make them out idle little-thrifts,"replied the piper. "I think them serious sober-minded gentlemen; for,besides the friar, they had with them, I wot, a black slave, that isto say not quite black, for I have seen blacker, but a tawny Moor,with silver bracelets on his arms, and a turban on his head."
"How does that show them serious sober-minded gentlemen?" asked thenun.
"Because I fancy they must have been to the Holy Land to fetch him,"answered the piper; "but what is more to their credit than all else,they love minstrels, for the young lord at their head gave me a Yorkgroat, which is more than I had taken in all the fair."
"Minstrels!" cried the nun, with a toss of her head. "Marry! call'stthou thyself a minstrel, piper?"
But before her companion could reply, three men rode into the littlecircle, formed by the houses upon the green, and approached the greatportal of the abbey. One of these, by his dress and appearance, seemedto be a principal servant in the house of some great man. Another wasan ordinary groom; but the third was altogether of a differentappearance, being a man of almost gigantic stature, dressed inoriental costume, with which, his brown skin, strongly-markedfeatures, and large deep black eyes, were in perfect harmony. He worea crooked scimitar by his side, a short cane spear was in his hand,and his seat in the saddle of the beautiful black horse he rode wouldhave distinguished him at once as the native of another land. He wasmagnificently dressed, as was usually the case with the easternslaves, of which not a few were to be found in Europe, even at thattime; for although the epidemic madness of the crusades was over, yetthe malady from time to time attacked a number of individuals, and wefind that towards the end of the fifteenth century, between two andthree hundred thousand persons were assembled from different countriesin Rome, with the professed object of making war upon the infidels.They were without leaders, undertook little, and executed less; but ifone of the noblemen or gentlemen, who set out upon those wildenterprises, could bring home with him two or three Mahommedan slaves,he thought he had performed a great feat, and judged himself worthy ofthe name of a crusader.
The very approach of a follower of Mahound, however, was anabomination to the good nun, who had never seen such a thing before;and, taking a step back at the aspect of the Moor, she crossed herselfdevoutly. "Sancta Clara, ora pro nobis," she uttered devoutly, andseemed to derive both consolation and courage from the ejaculation;for she maintained her ground, although the Moor rode close up to herwith his companions--nay, she even examined his garb with a criticaleye, and internally pronounced the yellow silk, of which his gabardinewas composed, the most beautiful she had ever seen in her life.
She was not subjected to the shock of any conversation with theinfidel however; for the person who addressed her was the good-lookingelderly man, dressed as one of the principal servants of a highfamily. Dismounting from his horse with due decorum, he presented aletter for the lady abbess, and requested that it might be conveyed toher immediately, saying, that he would wait there for an answer.
The nun pressed him to enter the court and take some refreshment inthe visitors' lodging, looking askance at the Moor all the time, andseeming to doubt whether she ought to include him in the invitation.The steward, or whatever he might be, declined, however, stating thathe must return immediately when he had received an answer, as towhether the lady abbess would extend her hospitality to his lord; andthe nun, usurping the function of the porte
ress, carried in the letterherself. An answer was soon brought, by word of mouth, that the LordChartley and his friends were right welcome; and the servants departedon the road by which they came. Cooks and scullions were immediatelyput in requisition, and all the good things which the woodman had sentup were speedily being converted into delicate dishes for the table ofthe guests.
Such a scene had not been displayed in the kitchen of the abbey sincethe visitation of the bishop; but hour after hour passed by withoutthe arrival of the expected company, till the cooks began to fear thatthe supper would be spoilt; and the beggars, who had lingered aboutthe gate, in the hope of alms, grew weary of waiting, and dropped offone by one. It was not till the sun had set, and the whole sky wasgrey, that a distant trumpet was heard, and the sacristan of thechapel, from one of the highest towers, perceived a dark andindistinct mass which might be men and horses coming up the slope ofthe hill.