The White Company | Page 2

call. A swift messenger had the night before sped
round to the outlying dependencies of the Abbey, and had left the
summons for every monk to be back in the cloisters by the third hour
after noontide. So urgent a message had not been issued within the
memory of old lay-brother Athanasius, who had cleaned the Abbey
knocker since the year after the Battle of Bannockburn.
A stranger who knew nothing either of the Abbey or of its immense
resources might have gathered from the appearance of the brothers
some conception of the varied duties which they were called upon to
perform, and of the busy, wide-spread life which centred in the old
monastery. As they swept gravely in by twos and by threes, with
bended heads and muttering lips there were few who did not bear upon
them some signs of their daily toil. Here were two with wrists and
sleeves all spotted with the ruddy grape juice. There again was a
bearded brother with a broad-headed axe and a bundle of faggots upon
his shoulders, while beside him walked another with the shears under
his arm and the white wool still clinging to his whiter gown. A long,
straggling troop bore spades and mattocks while the two rearmost of all
staggered along under a huge basket o' fresh-caught carp, for the
morrow was Friday, and there were fifty platters to be filled and as
many sturdy trenchermen behind them. Of all the throng there was
scarce one who was not labor-stained and weary, for Abbot Berghersh
was a hard man to himself and to others.
Meanwhile, in the broad and lofty chamber set apart for occasions of
import, the Abbot himself was pacing impatiently backwards and
forwards, with his long white nervous hands clasped in front of him.
His thin, thought-worn features and sunken, haggard cheeks bespoke
one who had indeed beaten down that inner foe whom every man must
face, but had none the less suffered sorely in the contest. In crushing his
passions he had well-nigh crushed himself. Yet, frail as was his person

there gleamed out ever and anon from under his drooping brows a flash
of fierce energy, which recalled to men's minds that he came of a
fighting stock, and that even now his twin-brother, Sir Bartholomew
Berghersh, was one of the most famous of those stern warriors who had
planted the Cross of St. George before the gates of Paris. With lips
compressed and clouded brow, he strode up and down the oaken floor,
the very genius and impersonation of asceticism, while the great bell
still thundered and clanged above his head. At last the uproar died away
in three last, measured throbs, and ere their echo had ceased the Abbot
struck a small gong which summoned a lay-brother to his presence.
"Have the brethren come?" he asked, in the Anglo-French dialect used
in religious houses.
"They are here," the other answered, with his eyes cast down and his
hands crossed upon his chest.
"All?"
"Two and thirty of the seniors and fifteen of the novices, most holy
father. Brother Mark of the Spicarium is sore smitten with a fever and
could not come. He said that--"
"It boots not what he said. Fever or no, he should have come at my call.
His spirit must be chastened, as must that of many more in this Abbey.
You yourself, brother Francis, have twice raised your voice, so it hath
come to my ears, when the reader in the refectory hath been dealing
with the lives of God's most blessed saints. What hast thou to say?"
The lay-brother stood meek and silent, with his arms still crossed in
front of him.
"One thousand Aves and as many Credos, said standing with arms
outstretched before the shrine of the Virgin, may help thee to remember
that the Creator hath given us two ears and but one mouth, as a token
that there is twice the work for the one as for the other. Where is the
master of the novices?"

"He is without, most holy father."
"Send him hither."
The sandalled feet clattered over the wooden floor, and the iron-bound
door creaked upon its hinges. In a few moments it opened again to
admit a short square monk with a heavy, composed face and an
authoritative manner.
"You have sent for me, holy father?"
"Yes, brother Jerome, I wish that this matter be disposed of with as
little scandal as may be, and yet it is needful that the example should be
a public one." The Abbot spoke in Latin now, as a language which was
more fitted by its age and solemnity to convey the thoughts of two high
dignitaries of the order.
"It would, perchance, be best that the novices be not admitted,"
suggested