A Legend of Reading Abbey Page 4

  IV.

  From all ungodly guests _libera nos_! Although they had feasted so lateat night, the people of the empress did make an early call for amatutinal refection; and our good chamberlain and coquinarius andcellarius were made to bestir themselves by times, and sundry of our laybrothers and servitors, to the great endangering of their souls, weremade to run with viands and drink into our lord abbat's hall, and therewait upon the daughter of the Beauclerc and her foreign black-eyeddamsels, who did shoot love-looks at them and discompose their monasticsobriety and gravity by laying their hands upon their sleeves andtwitching their hoods for this thing and that (for the young Jezebelsspoke no English), and by singing snatches of love songs at them, evenas the false syrens of old did unto the wise Ulysses. Certes, thefounder of our order, the blessed Benedict, did know what he was a-doingwhen he condemned and prohibited the resort of women to our houses andtheir in-dwelling with monks. Monks are mortal, and mortal flesh isweak: _et ne nos inducas in tentationem_.

  It was still an early hour, not much more than half way between primaand tertia, when more troubles came upon us. The two knights who hadbeen sent forth by the daughter of the Beauclerc to make an espial intothe condition of the country, and to summon her friends unto her,returned to our gate with a large company of knights and men-at-arms,and demanded to be readmitted. Our good abbat, calling together thefathers of the house, held counsel with them; and it was agreed that toadmit so great a company of men of war would be perilous to ourcommunity; and even our bellicose prior did opine that our people wouldbe too few to protect the abbey if these men without should be joined tothose the empress had within. It was our prior who addressed that greatcompany from the porter's window over the gateway, telling them that thetwo knights who had come from London with the empress might bereadmitted, but that our doors would not be unbarred even unto themunless the rest of that armed host went to a distance into the King'sMead. Hereat there arose a loud clamour from those knights andmen-at-arms, with great reproaches and threats. Yea, one of thoseknights, Sir Richard a Chambre, who was in after time known for a mostfaithless man, and a variable, changing sides as often as the moon dothchange her face, did call our lord abbat apostate monk and traitor, anddid threaten our good house with storm and spoliation. The major part ofus had gathered in front of the house to see and hear what was passing;but, alack! we were soon made to run towards the back of the abbey, forwhile Sir Richard a Chambre was discoursing in this unseemly strain, andshaking his mailed fist at the iron bars through which he could scantlysee the tip of our prior's nose, a knight on foot, who wore black mailand a black plume in his casque, and who never raised his visor andscarce spoke word after these few, came running round the eastern angleof the abbey walls, shouting "'Tis open! 'tis ours! Win in, in the nameof Matilda!" The voice that said these few words seemed to not a few ofus to have been heard before, but we had no time to think of that. Thearmed host set up a shout, and ran round for our postern gate, whichopeneth upon the Kennet, and we all began to run for the same, our lordabbat wringing his hands, and saying "The postern! the postern! sometraitor hath betrayed us!"

  Now our postern was secured by two great locks of rare strength andingenuity of workmanship, and the keys thereof were not intrusted to theportarius, but were always kept by the sub-prior, and without these keysthere was no undoing the door either from within or from without. As heran from the great gateway, I heard our prior say in an angry voice untothe sub-prior, "Brother Hildebrand, how is this? Where be the keys?" AndI heard the sub-prior make response, "On my soul, I know not how it is,but verily the keys I did leave under the pallet in my cell."

  When we came into the paved quadrangle, we found some of our retainershastily putting on their armour; but when we came into the garden, wefound it thronged with men already armed, and we saw the postern wideopen and many more warriors rushing in through it: the evil men who hadstayed with the queen, and who had so much abused our hospitality, hadalready joined the new comers, and the united and still increasing forcewas so great that we could not hope to expel them and save our housefrom robbery and profanation. Our very prior smote his breast indespair. But our good abbat, though of a less bellicose humour, had nofear of the profane intruders, for he stood up in the midst of them andupbraided them roundly, and threatened to lay an interdict upon them allfor the thing that they were doing. But anon the empress herself cameforth with one that waved a flag over her head, and at sight hereof thesinful men set up a shouting and fell to a kissing, some the flag, whichwas but a small and soiled thing, and some--on their knees--the hand ofthe Beauclerc's daughter; and while this was passing, those foreigndamsels came salting and skipping, and clapping their hands and talkingAnjou French, into the garden. There was one of them attired in a shortgreen kirtle that had the smallest and prettiest feet, and the largestand blackest eyes, and the longest and blackest eyelashes, and thelaughingest face, that ever man did behold in these parts of the world;and she danced near to me on those tiny pretty feet, and glanced at mesuch glances from those black eyes, that my heart thumped against myribs; but the saints gave me strength and protection, and I pulled myhood over my eyes and fell to telling my beads, and thus, when otherswere backsliders, I, Felix the novice, was enabled to stand steadfast inmy faith.

  The empress had taken no heed of our lord abbat, or of any of us; butwhen she had done welcoming the knights that came to do her service,and, imprimis, to escort her on her way to Oxenford, she turned unto theabbat and said, "Monk, thou art too weak to cope with a queen, thedaughter of a king, the widow of an emperor, and one from whom manykings will spring. But by thy perversity, which we think amounts totreason, thou hast incurred the penalty of deprivation; and when wehave time for such matters, or at the very next meeting of a synod ofbishops and abbats, I will see that thou art both deprived andimprisoned."

  "That synod," said our abbat very mildly, "will not sit so soon, andfrom any synod I can appeal to his holiness the Pope."

  "Fool!" quoth Matilda, with the ugliest curl of the lip I ever beheld;"obstinate fool! the Pope's legate is our well-beloved subject andfriend the Bishop of Winchester."

  "See that you keep his allegiance! He hath put you upon a throne, andcan pull you down therefrom!" So spake our prior, who could not stomachthe irreverent treatment the Countess of Anjou put upon his superior,and who knew that Matilda had in various ways broken her compact withhim, and done deeds highly displeasing to King Stephen's brother, thetough-hearted Bishop of Winchester.

  "Beshrew me!" quoth Matilda; "but these Reading monks be proud ofstomach and rebellious! Sir Walleren of Mantes, drive them into theirchurch, and see that they quit it not while we tarry here."

  "I will," said the foreign knight; "and also will I see that they dosing the _Salve, Regina_."

  And this Sir Walleren and other unknightly knights drew their swords andcalled up their retainers; and before this ungodly host the abbat andprior and the monks were all compelled to retreat into the church,leaving the whole range of the abbey to those who had so unrighteouslyinvaded it. But as soon as we were in the choir, instead of singing a_Salve, Regina_, we did chant _In te, Domine, speravi_.

  A strong guard was put at the church-door and in the cloisters; but itwas not needed, as we could oppose no resistance to those who were nowrobbing our house; and as it had been determined therefore that all whohad come into the church should remain, with psalmody and prayer, untilthese men of violence should take their departure from the abbey, orcomplete their wickedness by driving us from it. As they ransacked ourhouse, as though it had been a castle taken by storm, and as theyshouted and made such loud noises as soldiers use when a castle or atown hath been successfully stormed, we only chanted the louder in thechoir. For full two hours did these partisans of Matilda ransack theabbey, with none to say them nay. At the end of that time, when they hadgotten all that they considered worth taking, that ill-visaged knightSir Walleren of Mantes came to the church-door, and called forth theabbat and prior, saying that the
queen would speak with them before shewent, and give them a lesson which they might remember. Though thricesummoned in the name of the queen, the heads of our house did not move,nor would they have gone forth at all if the fierce Sir Wallerenaforesaid had not sent in a score of pikes to drive them, or prick themfrom their seats. Nay, even then, the prior would have run not unto thedoor, but unto the altar; but the good abbat, fearing that God's housemight be desecrated by blood, took the prior by the sleeve, andwhispered a few soothing words to him, and so led him out into thecloisters; and then all we who had been driven into the church followedthe abbat and the prior, and went to the quadrangle, where was the queenon horseback, mounted on the lord abbat's own grey palfrey, which hadbeen stolen from the stable, together with every horse and mule that ourcommunity possessed. It was a sad sight; and the lord abbat's master ofthe horse and his palfrey-keeper were wringing their hands at it. Ourgood cattle, save and except the lord abbat's palfrey and a finewar-horse which had appertained to one of our knights, but which was nowmounted by that silent knight in the black mail, who never raised hisvisor, were loaded with the spoils of our own house, to wit, the coinedmoney taken out of our mint, provisions, corn, wine, raiment, and goodlyfurnishings. The masked knight had a plain shield, carried by his page,and no cognizance whereby he might be known: he held in his hand one ofthe queen's reins, and by his gestures, and his constant looking to thegreat gate of our house, which was now thrown wide open, he seemed veryeager to be gone. As our lord abbat, with his hand still upon theprior's sleeve, came through the crowd and nigh to the space whereMatilda sat upon his own palfrey, she first frowned upon him and thenlaughed at him, and between laughing and frowning said--"Oh abbat thatshalt not be abbat long, thou hast comported thyself like a traitor anda very churl in stinting thy queen of that which she needed, inbegrudging hospitality to these fair damsels, and in barring thy doorsagainst these my gallant knights and faithful people. For this have we,for the present, relieved thy house of some of its superfluous stuff. Itis not well that disloyal monks be so well supplied and furnished, whena queen, and noble ladies, and high-born knights be unprovided and bare,and forced by treasons foul to flee from place to place as if they wereaccursed Israelites. Light meals are followed by light digestion, andabstinence is favourable to prayer and devotion. Yet have we takennothing from ye, O monks, but what is rightfully ours, or was given yeby my father of thrice glorious memory."

  "Oh Empress, or Countess of Anjou, or Queen of England, if so must be,the deeds which have been done in this holy house, built and endowed bythy father for the expiation of his sins, will make the bones of thyfather turn in his grave, and will bring down a curse upon the heads ofthee and thy party. Bethink thee, and repent while it is yet time! Thyfather, the father of his people and the peace of his country, _Paxpatriae, gentisque suae Pater_, did for the good of his own soul foundthis abbey, and endow it with the town and manor of Reading, and withall the lands which had aforetime belonged to the nunnery of Reading andthe monasteries of Cholsey and Leominster (which houses had beendestroyed in our old wars), and he did make it one of the royal mitredabbeys, and did give the lord abbat privilege to coin his own money, byhaving a mint and mintmaster. Other donations did he make, and otherprivileges and honours did he confer upon our community. And hath notour lord the pope by a special bull confirmed and sanctified this kinglygrant, and taken our house, with all its possessions and appurtenances,to wit, lands cultivated and uncultivated, its manors, meadows, woods,pastures, mills, fisheries, and all other, under the protection of theholy Roman see? And hath not his holiness decreed that none are todisturb our house, or to lay an impious hand on our possessions, or tokeep, or diminish the same, or in any other way give us trouble; butthat all that we have and hold is to be kept under the government of themonks, and for the pious uses for which it was given? And in the samebull hath not the pope blessed those who keep this commandment, andcursed those who in any way break it? Unless thou makest restitutionthou wilt be denied the viaticum on thy death-bed--_et a sacratissimocorpore et sanguine Dei et Domini nostri aliena fiat_."

  At these words spoken, the countess did somewhat tremble on the palfrey,and turn pale; but one of her wicked advisers from beyond sea said thatshe did but borrow, and would make restitution at the fitting time, andthat we, being so rich, could well spare some of our substance.

  Our treasurer, who would not deign to speak to this foreign marauder,said to the countess, "Oh, ill-advised ladie, we be none so rich, andmuch is expected from us. By thy father's endowment full two hundredmonks are to be kept for aye in this his royal abbey, and we be as yetscantly more than one hundred and two score. Also do the good peoplethat we have drawn to this township of Reading look to us for presentemployment and support; and herein have we much laboured, for the goodof the realm, and the happiness of the commoner sort. In the days of thygrandfather, the dread Conqueror of this kingdom, when the Domesday-bookwas made, Reading had only twenty-nine houses; but now look abroad, andsee how new houses have risen, and men have increased under the shadowof our peaceful walls."

  "There will be woe and want among that industrious people," said abbatEdward, "if thou carriest away from us this great spoil, and all themoney that we have minted! The curse of the poor, which is the nextterriblest thing to the curse of God and holy church, will cling tothee, oh countess, or queen! Look to it, oh Matilda! I see the crownalready dropping from thy head."

  "This is treason!" said the silent knight with his visor down, in avoice which made all of us start, for it sounded like that of one whohad lately been our fast friend.

  Matilda, rising in her saddle, with glaring eyes and reddened cheek,said, "And I, rebel monk, do see the mitre falling from thy head. Thouwilt not be abbot of Reading this time next month."

  "_Fiat voluntas_, let the will of God be done," replied our lord abbat.

  "And now," quoth the violent daughter of the Beauclerc, "let us ride onour way for Oxenford. Methinks we be now strong enough to defy alltraitors on the road." And she struck with her riding-wand the greypalfrey, which it much grieved our abbat to lose, and followed by herknights and her leering and laughing foreign damsels, she rode out atour gate, and with a great host departed from Reading.

  When the evil-doers were all gone we made fast our doors, and proceededto examine the condition of our house and its community. They hadcompletely emptied the buttery, the store-house, the granary, thewine-cellar; they had so stripped the lord abbat's house and the lodgingof the prior that there was nothing left in them save the tables andchairs, the mats and rushes; they had broken open both treasury andsacristy, and had stolen thence all our most precious relics, and allour gold and silver vessels, and all our portable pictures andcrucifixes; they had not left us so much as a patera, a chalice, or anencensoire; they had even laid their impious thievish hands upon thesilver lamp which had been used to burn day and night at the head of theBeauclerc's tomb, and they had carried off with them the Agnus Dei andthe jewelled cross which Henricus Primus had worn for many years of hislife, and which, at his order, had been laid upon his tomb. That silverlamp had been sent to the abbey by Queen Adelise, the Beauclerc's secondand surviving wife, who, on the first anniversary of the Beauclerc'sdeath, gave us the manor of Aston in Hertfordshire, offering a pall uponthe altar in confirmation of the grant; and who likewise gave us theland of Reginald, the Forester, at Stanton-Harcourt, nigh unto Oxenford,and afterwards the patronage and revenues of the church ofStanton-Harcourt, to supply the cost of the silver lamp, which sheherself did order should burn continually before the pix and the tomb ofher late husband. Yet Matilda and her plundering band had carried offthis precious cresset--and long did they prevent us getting any rent orrevenues from the lands which Queen Adelise had granted us. Not the mostrecondite and secret part of our house had escaped their search. Muchdid we marvel at this, until, calling over the roll, we found that threemembers of our community did not answer to their names. The threemissing were, two novices, to wit, young Urswick, the whi
teheaded, fromPangbourne, and John Blount from Maple-Durham, and one full monk, towit, Father Anselm, of Norman birth, who had but lately taken the vows,but who had been much employed by our treasurer in offices of trust. Thetwo novices (may their souls be assoiled!) had been wiled away by thoseyoung Jezebels, and had put on warlike harness, and had gone withMatilda to serve her as men-at-arms: Father Anselm, being awell-favoured man, had found favour in the sight of the Countess ofAnjou, and had gone with her to be her mass-priest, and to aim at somevacant bishopric or abbey. Well had it been for us if he had never comeback to Reading. Heavy suspicions had fallen upon our sub-priorHildebrand, touching the postern gate; but it was ascertained uponinquiry, that Urswick, the whiteheaded, who had been wont to wait uponthe sub-prior, did, at the bidding of Matilda, or of one of her damsels,steal the keys and undo the door.

  Besides the three deserters from our own body, we found that divers ofour armed retainers had taken service with the errant countess, and hadgone away with her with their arms and horses; and that even one of ourknights, who did service for the lands of the abbey he held, hadforgotten his bounden duty and his honour in a sudden fantasticaffection for a pair of black eyes.

  We were bemoaning our losses, and our exceeding great calamity anddisgrace, and wondering where we should get a dinner, when, some threehours after the departure of Matilda, and the host that followed herstandard, another great body of horse and foot, bearing the banner ofKing Stephen, marched towards our gates, demanding meat and drink, andvowing, with many soldier-like profane oaths, that they would burn anddestroy all such as were not for Stephen. The new alarm thus createdwas, however, but short, for some noble barons and knights, who had beenriding in the rear, came spurring up to the van, which was now haltingin the Falbury, and among these we saw, with his vizor down, that rightnoble lord Sir Alain de Bohun, Lord of Caversham and the well-belovednephew of our lord abbat, whose sad heart was much rejoiced at his sosudden appearance.

  "Be it King Stephen or Queen Matilda," said the abbat, "let us throwopen our gates to our well-beloved nephew, for he will not see harm doneto us, and now, verily, we have nothing to lose but lives not worth thetaking." And the gates were thrown open, and Sir Alain was welcomed andaffectionately greeted by his uncle; and after many expressions ofastonishment and indignation at the wrongs which had been done us, SirAlain and divers of the lords and knights with him retired for a spaceto the lord abbat's despoiled and naked apartment, with the lord abbatand our prior, and some other fathers. I was not of that council, beingbut a novice, nor can I say it that I ever learned in after times _all_that was said in it; but I do know that when it was finished (and itlasted not long) the prior came forth with a very confident countenance,and told us all that the Bishop of Winchester, the pope's Legatus alatere, had changed sides, that Stephen of Blois was still King Stephen,and that we must sing a _Te Deum laudamus_ for that same. And we allwent forthwith into our church, and the barons and knights went in afterus, and we admitted as many as the church would hold of thosemen-at-arms, and bill-men and bow-men, that had halted in the Falburywith King Stephen's banner, and albeit we were hungry and faint, we sangthe _Te Deum_ for Stephen with sonorous voices.

  Sir Alain de Bohun, one of the very few lords of England that neverchanged sides during these nineteen years of revolutions and wars, hadfought bravely for King Stephen in the great battle at Lincoln, whereother barons and knights had deserted with all their forces to Matilda'sillegitimate brother and commander the Earl of Gloucester; and afterStephen had been taken prisoner (not until both his sword and battle-axehad been broken), Sir Alain had escaped from the field and had joinedone of the many leagues of nobles who vowed never to submit to thedistaff, or allow the Countess of Anjou to be Queen of England. In thefive months which had passed since the battle of Lincoln, Sir Alain hadfought in sundry other battles, and had given heart to many a knight,who, after the synod of Winchester, had despaired of the cause of KingStephen. He had appeared with a good body of horse, and the standard ofStephen, on the southern side of Thamesis, opposite the city of London,and his appearance had encouraged the citizens to rise and drive outMatilda. And the day before, appearing in the suburb of London, SirAlain de Bohun had been at Guildford, and had there conferred withStephen's queen, the good Maud, and also with Stephen's brother, theBishop of Winchester, who did already repent him of that which he haddone in synod. But that the bishop had met either Queen Maud or SirAlain was for the present kept secret.

  The Lord of Caversham and his friends had crossed the river, and enteredLondon city within an hour of Matilda's flight. Having toiled far thatsame day, the horses of the king's party were weary, and could not givepursuit; but after short rest they followed the flying queen along thegreat road which leads to the westernmost parts of our island. JesuMaria! had they come unto Reading a few hours sooner, before the arrivalof that battalia which the two knights Matilda had sent forth from ourabbey had collected, the violent woman might have been made prisoner,and our house have been saved from plunder. But now the horses of KingStephen's friends were again aweary, and though Sir Alain and the noblebarons with him were stronger in foot soldiers, they were much weaker inhorse than the host which had left Reading with the countess, who, uponthese sundry considerations, and for that she had been gone more thantwo hours, was let go on her road to Oxenford without pursuit.

  The burghers of Reading who had endeavoured to save themselves fromplunder and violence by throwing up their caps and shouting for theerrant queen, but who had been plundered and beaten all the same (nay,divers of them were wounded by sword and lance, and cruelly maimed), nowcame to our abbey-gates, making their throats hoarse with shouting forKing Stephen and the good and gracious Lord of Caversham; and some ofthe richer franklins of the township and neighbourhood, who had escapedbeing plundered by Matilda's party, upon learning the sad case in whichwe, the monks, had been left, hastened to bring us meat and drink.

  Sir Alain de Bohun, who had not seen his wife or his home for many a sadday, was about to ride across the fields homeward, when his ladie's pagewas seen running across the King's Mead towards our abbey.

  "Yonder comes one from Caversham," said Sir Alain; "and I read by hislooks and his hurry that he bringeth no good news!"

  "Fear not," said the abbat, who saw that his nephew's cheek was growingpale, "for the saints have ever defended thy roof-tree, and as I toldthee before, the Ladie Alfgiva and the children were as well as wellcould be at the hour of noon of yesterday, when I did see them."

  Nevertheless, the little page did bring bad news, or tidings which muchafflicted Sir Alain and our lord abbat. There had been treachery atCaversham, and a fast friend had played loose. That sweet babe, thedaughter of Sir Ingelric of Huntercombe, who had caused our household somuch dismay four years agone, and had sent me and Philip the lay-brotheron the night-journey to Sir Alain de Bohun's castle, had dwelt in thatcastle ever since, and had been nurtured with all delicacy and honour,like a child of the house. For a long season Sir Ingelric, her father,had no safe home unto which he could take her; for since the beginningof these unhappy wars, no house in England could be called safe that wasnot moated and battlemented, and strongly garrisoned; and if SirIngelric had possessed a castellum, he had no gentle dame unto whom hecould confide his infant female child. But the Ladie Alfgiva was astender as a mother to this babe, and this tenderness became the greaterwhen death deprived her of her own little daughter. Sir Ingelric ofHuntercombe, who had taken vengeance on the destroyer of his wife andhome, Sir Jocelyn de Brienne, in the Falbury almost at our abbey gates,seemed engaged for life in a blood-feud with Sir Jocelyn's family andfriends, and to be for ever wedded to the party of King Stephen by thestrong ties of necessity and revenge. Many were the combats he hadfought between that time his house and wife were burned, and the timewhen King Stephen prepared for that campaign which had ended sodisastrously at Lincoln. During this long and busy interval he went notoften to Caversham, so that his child grew up with little knowledge ofhim. Th
e little Alice was wont to call Sir Alain de Bohun her father,even as she called the Ladie Alfgiva mother. Once or twice within thelast twelve months Sir Ingelric had said, that since his house was wellnigh rebuilt, he should have a safe bower for his daughter, and thatAlice must soon home with him; and each time he had said the words thechild had run from him to the Ladie Alfgiva, and had clung round herneck, weeping and saying that she would not leave her mother; and herplaymate and champion, that right gallant boy Arthur de Bohun, the onlyson, and now the only child, of Sir Alain, who was some four years olderthan Alice, said that she must not leave him. It was noticed upon theseoccasions, that although Sir Ingelric began as in a jest, hiscountenance soon grew dark and his voice harsh, and that he almost shookhis child when he took her on his knee and told her that she must loveher father, and must not always be a burthen unto other people. Nay,the last time that he said these words he pressed the little Alice's armso violently that he left the blackening marks of his fingers upon it.Other things were noted as well by Sir Alain de Bohun as by the LadieAlfgiva. It is not every man that is chastened by calamity. SirIngelric's great misfortune had made him fierce, proud, and rebelliousto the will of Heaven; and, in losing his fair young wife, he had losthis best guide and monitor. He became hard of heart, and grasping, andcovetous; and as for more than three years the party of King Stephen hadbeen almost everywhere victorious, he had abundant opportunities ofsatisfying his appetite for havoc and booty. But the more he gained themore he wished to get, and by degrees he gave up his whole soul toavarice and ambition. Sir Alain de Bohun, who looked for no advantageunto himself, who adhered to King Stephen out of loyalty and affection,and who kept out of the horrible and unnatural warfare as much as hethought his duty would allow him, entertained apprehensions that hisfriend Sir Ingelric loved the war for what he gained by it, and wouldnot be very steady to any losing party. Sir Ingelric, however, hadfought bravely for King Stephen at Lincoln, and had there been takenprisoner. But he had paid a ransom to his captor, and had been some timeat large, busied in putting the finishing hand to the strong castlewhich he had raised on his lands at Speen. Though the distance was soshort to Caversham, he had not gone once thither until the evening ofthe unhappy day on which the Countess of Anjou had come to ourabbey--that is, the evening of yesterday--but then he had told theLadie Alfgiva that as the weather was so fine and the country sotranquil (alack! the good people at Caversham had not seen the arrivalof Matilda and her young Jezebels at our abbey), he would take the twochildren forth for a walk in the meadows by the river side; and thefalse knight had gone forth with the children, and neither he nor thechildren had since been seen or heard of. As the little page came tothis point in his dismal story, not only our prior, but several of usless entitled to speak in such a presence, cried out, "That knight inthe black mail who kept his vizor down, and that went away with thecountess, was none other than Sir Ingelric of Huntercombe;" and ourabbot said, "Verily, the voice was that of Sir Ingelric!"

  "Woe for these changes!" said Sir Alain de Bohun, "woe and shame uponthem. If men have no faith even with old friends--if men do shift fromside to side like the inconstant wind, this war will never know an end,and truth, and honour, and mercy will depart the land! Sir Ingelric ofHuntercombe! I aided thee in thy wretchedness, and King Stephen didafterwards hand thee on the road to riches and greatness. I first gavethee money and the labour of my serfs that thou mightest re-edify thyhouse, but now thou hast built to thyself a strong castle, wherein thouthinkest thou canst defy me, now thou believest the cause of Stephen tobe desperate, and therefore dost thou raise thy hand against me, andsteal away, like a thief, not only the child that was thine own, butalso mine only son, that the woman of Anjou may have my dearest hostagein her power. May God of his mercy protect my dear boy! But, oh SirIngelric, thy treachery is ill-laid and ill-timed, thy cunning isfoolishness. Great things have happened since thou hast beencastle-building, and thou wilt find that thou hast quitted the strongerfor the weaker party. Hereafter will I make thee pay, if not for thyblack ingratitude to me, for thy disloyalty to thy too bountiful king,and for the tears my ladie wife will shed for her double loss!"

  Here moisture very like a tear stood in the eyes of the Lord ofCaversham: but grief gave way to wrath as he said that the felon knightmight have taken his own child, which would long since have been in itsgrave but for the Ladie Alfgiva, without robbing him of his son.

  Our good abbat, who had his prophetic seasons, said, "Grieve not, mywell-beloved nephew. The two children will do well together, and thouwilt soon have them restored to thy house: they were born to be togetherand love one another, and so will not be separated. Alice will repaythee hereafter for the ingratitude and treasons and other evil doings ofher father."

  Here I, Felix the novice, and Philip the lay-brother, who had carriedlittle Alice from the abbey unto Caversham, and who had loved the childever since, did say "Amen! amen! So be it."

  "The children," said an honest franklin who had stood by all the time ofthese discourses, "be surely gone with the Countess of Anjou forOxenford; as on the road beyond the town I saw a blue-eyed boy ridingbefore a man-at-arms, and a little girl in the arms of a waiting-womanwho rode close to the countess on a piebald horse, and both the childrenwere crying piteously."

  "Then will we recover them at Oxenford," said one of the knights.

  Sir Alain de Bohun, with a part of the company who had come with him,mounted for Caversham; and when Sir Alain began to ride, I could seethat he rode hotly and impatiently. The rest of the knightly company weentertained in the abbey as best we could, and lodged them for thatnight, the good franklins having brought us in some clean straw andrushes for that purpose. The commoner sort slept in the open air on theFalbury, with their weapons by their sides.

  But before the troublous day was finished, other dismal tidings andsights of woe were brought to our house. John Appold and Ralph Wain, twofranklins whilome of good substance, who farmed some of our outstandingabbey lands beyond Pangbourne, came to tell us that their houses hadbeen burned, their granaries emptied, and the plough-hinds and shepherdsand all the serfs driven away by Matilda's people, who had chained themtogether by their iron neck-collars, and had goaded them before themlike cattle with the points of their lances. And before these sad taleswere well ended, Will Shakeshaft, a faithful steward who dwelt in ahouse our lord abbat had at Purley, arrived on a maimed horse, and witha ghastly cut across his face, to let us know that violence had beendone to his wife, and that that fair house had been burned also. Alittle later there came three of our poor serfs howling so that it wasdreadful to hear, and holding in the air their red and still bleedingstumps. They had been amputated and then liberated, in order that theymight go forth and show all the people what they had to expect if theyopposed or so much as forbore to aid and join the empress-queen. As thenight became dark, we could trace the march of the countess by a line offire and smoke. Such were the things which drove the poor people ofEngland into impiety and blasphemy, making them say that Christ and thesaints had fallen asleep! And these things lasted in the land forfifteen more years.