Half-Hours with Great Story-Tellers | Page 6

shall," said St. Austin. _"Pax vo-biscum!"_--and Abbot
Anselm was left alone.
Within an hour all Canterbury was in commotion. A friar had been
murdered,--two friars--ten, twenty; a whole convent had been assaulted,
sacked, burnt,--all the monks had been killed, and all the nuns had been
kissed! Murder! fire! sacrilege! Never was city in such an uproar. From
St. George's gate to St. Dunstan's suburb, from the Donjon to the
borough of Staplegate, it was noise and hubbub. "Where was
it?"--"When was it?"--"How was it?" The Mayor caught up his chain,
the Aldermen donned their furred gowns, the Town Clerk put on his
spectacles. "Who was he?"--"What was he?"--"Where was he?"--He
should be hanged,--he should be burned,--he should be broiled,--he
should be fried,--he should be scraped to death with
red-hot-oyster-shells! "Who was he?"--"What was his name?"
The Abbot's Apparitor drew forth his roll and read aloud:--'Sir Robert
de Shurland, Knight banneret, Baron of Shurland and Minster, and
Lord of Sheppey.
The Mayor put his chain in his pocket, the Aldermen took off their
gowns, the Town Clerk put his pen behind his ear. It was a county
business altogether;--the Sheriff had better call out the posse comitatus.
While saints and sinners were thus leaning against him, the Baron de
Shurland was quietly eating his breakfast. He had passed a tranquil
night, undisturbed by dreams of cowl or capuchin; nor was his appetite
more affected than his conscience. On the contrary, he sat rather longer
over his meal than usual; luncheon-time came, and he was ready as
ever for his oysters: but scarcely had Dame Martin opened his first
half-dozen when the warder's horn was heard from the barbican.
"Who the devil's that?" said Sir Robert. "I'm not at home, Periwinkle. I
hate to be disturbed at meals, and I won't be at home to anybody."
"An't please your lordship," answered the Seneschal, "Paul Prior hath
given notice that there is a body--"
"Another body!" roared the Baron. "Am I to be everlastingly plagued
with bodies? No time allowed me to swallow a morsel. Throw it into
the moat!"
"So please you my lord, it is a body of horse,--and--and Paul says there
is a still large body of foot behind it; and he thinks, my lord-- that is, he
does not know, but he thinks--and we all think, my lord, that they are

coming to--to besiege the castle!"
"Besiege the castle! Who? What? What for?"
"Paul says, my lord, that he can see the banner of St. Austin, and the
bleeding heart of Hamo de Crevecoeur, the Abbot's chief vassal; and
there is John de Northwood, the sheriff, with his red cross engrailed;
and Hever, and Leybourne, and Heaven knows how many more: and
they are all coming on as fast as ever they can."
"Periwinkle," said the Baron, "up with the draw-bridge; down with the
portcullis; bring me a cup of canary, and my nightcap. I won't be
bothered with them. I shall go to bed."
"To bed, my lord!" cried Periwinkle, with a look that seemed to say,
"He's crazy!"
At this moment the shrill tones of a trumpet were heard to sound thrice
from the champaign. It was the signal for parley; the Baron changed his
mind; instead of going to bed, he went to the ramparts.
"Well, rapscallions! and what now?" said the Baron.
A herald, two pursuivants, and a trumpeter, occupied the foreground of
the scene; behind them, some three hundred paces off, upon a rising
ground, was drawn up in battle-array the main body of the
ecclesiastical forces.
"Hear you, Robert de Shurland, Knight, Baron of Shurland and Minster,
and Lord of Sheppey, and know all men, by these presents, that I do
hereby attach you, said Robert, of murder and sacrilege, now, or of the
late, done and committed by you, the said Robert, contrary to the peace
of our Sovereign Lord the King, his crown and dignity: and I do hereby
require and charge you, the said Robert, to forthwith surrender and give
up your own proper person, together with the castle of Shurland
aforesaid, in order that the same may be duly dealt with according to
law. And here standeth John de Northwood, Esquire, good man and
true, sheriff of this his Majesty's most loyal county of Kent, to enforce
the same if need be, with his _posse comitatus_--"
"His what?" said the Baron.
"His posse comitatus, and--" "Go to Bath!" said the Baron.
A defiance so contemptuous roused the ire of the adverse commanders.
A volley of missiles rattled about the Baron's ears. Nightcaps avail little
against contusions. He left the walls, and returned to the great hall. "Let
them pelt away," quoth the Baron; "there are no windows to break, and

they can't get in." So he took his afternoon nap, and