CHAPTER XX
When autumn nights were long and drear, And forest walks were dark and dim, How sweetly on the pilgrim's ear Was wont to steal the hermit's hymn
Devotion borrows Music's tone, And Music took Devotion's wing; And, like the bird that hails the sun, They soar to heaven, and soaring sing.
_The Hermit of St Clement's Well._
It was after three hours' good walking that the servants of Cedric, with their mysterious guide, arrived at a small opening in the forest, in the centre of which grew an oak-tree of enormous magnitude, throwing its twisted branches in every direction. Beneath this tree four or five yeomen lay stretched on the ground, while another, as sentinel, walked to and fro in the moonlight shade.
Upon hearing the sound of feet approaching, the watch instantly gave the alarm, and the sleepers as suddenly started up and bent their bows. Six arrows placed on the string were pointed towards the quarter from which the travellers approached, when their guide, being recognised, was welcomed with every token of respect and attachment, and all signs and fears of a rough reception at once subsided.
``Where is the Miller?'' was his first question.
``On the road towards Rotherham.''
``With how many?'' demanded the leader, for such he seemed to be.
``With six men, and good hope of booty, if it please St Nicholas.''
``Devoutly spoken,'' said Locksley; ``and where is Allan-a-dale ?''
``Walked up towards the Watling-street, to watch for the Prior of Jorvaulx.''
``That is well thought on also,'' replied the Captain;--- ``and where is the Friar ?''
``In his cell.''
``Thither will I go,'' said Locksley. ``Disperse
and seek your companions. Collect what force you
can, for there's game afoot that must be hunted
hard, and will turn to bay. Meet me here by daybreak.
---And stay,'' he added, ``I have forgotten
what is most necessary of the whole---Two of you
take the road quickly towards Torquilstone, the
Castle of Front-de-B
They promised implicit obedience, and departed
with alacrity on their different errands. In the
meanwhile, their leader and his two companions,
who now looked upon him with great respect, as
well as some fear, pursued their way to the Chapel
of Copmanhurst.
When they had reached the little moonlight
glade, having in front the reverend, though ruinous
chapel, and the rude hermitage, so well suited
to ascetic devotion, Wamba whispered to Gurth,
``If this be the habitation of a thief, it makes
good the old proverb, The nearer the church the
farther from God.---And by my cockscomb,'' he
added, ``I think it be even so---Hearken but to
the black sanctus which they are singing in the
hermitage!''
In fact the anchorite and his guest were performing,
at the full extent of their very powerful
lungs, an old drinking song, of which this was the
burden:---
``Come, trowl the brown bowl to me,
Bully boy, bully boy,
Come, trowl the brown bowl to me:
Ho! jolly Jenkin, I spy a knave in drinking,
Come, trowl the brown bowl to me.''
``Now, that is not ill sung,'' said Wamba, who
had thrown in a few of his own flourishes to help
out the chorus. ``But who, in the saint's name,
ever expected to have heard such a jolly chant
come from out a hermit's cell at midnight!''
``Marry, that should I,'' said Gurth, ``for the
jolly Clerk of Copmanhurst is a known man, and
kills half the deer that are stolen in this walk. Men
say that the keeper has complained to his official,
and that he will be stripped of his cowl and cope
altogether, if he keeps not better order.''
While they were thus speaking, Locksley's loud
and repeated knocks had at length disturbed the
anchorite and his guest. ``By my beads,'' said the
hermit, stopping short in a grand flourish, ``here
come more benighted guests. I would not for my
cowl that they found us in this goodly exercise.
All men have their enemies, good Sir Sluggard;
and there be those malignant enough to construe
the hospitable refreshment which I have been offering
to you, a weary traveller, for the matter of
three short hours, into sheer drunkenness and debauchery,
vices alike alien to my profession and my
disposition.''
``Base calumniators!'' replied the knight; ``I
would I had the chastising of them. Nevertheless,
Holy Clerk, it is true that all have their enemies;
and there be those in this very land whom I would
rather speak to through the bars of my helmet than
barefaced.''
``Get thine iron pot on thy head then, friend
Sluggard, as quickly as thy nature will permit,''
said the hermit, ``while I remove these pewter
flagons, whose late contents run strangely in mine
own pate; and to drown the clatter---for, in faith,
I feel somewhat unsteady---strike into the tune
which thou hearest me sing; it is no matter for the
words---I scarce know them myself.''
So saying, he struck up a thundering _De profundis
clamavi_, under cover of which he removed
the apparatus of their banquet: while the knight,
laughing heartily, and arming himself all the while,
assisted his host with his voice from time to time
as his mirth permitted.
``What devil's matins are you after at this
hour?'' said a voice from without.
``Heaven forgive you, Sir Traveller!'' said the
hermit, whose own noise, and perhaps his nocturnal
potations, prevented from recognising accents which
were tolerably familiar to him---``Wend on your
way, in the name of God and Saint Dunstan,
and disturb not the devotions of me and my holy
brother.''
``Mad priest,'' answered the voice from without,
``open to Locksley!''
``All's safe---all's right,'' said the hermit to his
companion.
``But who is he?'' said the Black Knight; ``it
imports me much to know.''
``Who is he?'' answered the hermit; ``I tell
thee he is a friend.''
``But what friend?'' answered the knight; ``for
he may be friend to thee and none of mine?''
``What friend?'' replied the hermit; ``that,
now, is one of the questions that is more easily
asked than answered. What friend?---why, he is,
now that I bethink me a little, the very same honest
keeper I told thee of a while since.''
``Ay, as honest a keeper as thou art a pious
hermit,'' replied the knight, ``I doubt it not.
But undo the door to him before he beat it from
its hinges.''
The dogs, in the meantime, which had made a
dreadful baying at the commencement of the disturbance,
seemed now to recognise the voice of
him who stood without; for, totally changing their
manner, they scratched and whined at the door,
as if interceding for his admission. The hermit
speedily unbolted his portal, and admitted Locksley,
with his two companions.
``Why, hermit,'' was the yeoman's first question
as soon as he beheld the knight, ``what boon companion
hast thou here ?''
``A brother of our order,'' replied the friar, shaking
his head; ``we have been at our orisons all
night.''
``He is a monk of the church militant, I think,''
answered Locksley; ``and there be more of them
abroad. I tell thee, friar, thou must lay down the
rosary and take up the quarter-staff; we shall need
every one of our merry men, whether clerk or layman.
---But,'' he added, taking him a step aside,
``art thou mad? to give admittance to a knight
thou dost not know? Hast thou forgot our articles?''
``Not know him!'' replied the friar, boldly, ``I
know him as well as the beggar knows his dish.''
``And what is his name, then?'' demanded
Locksley.
``His name,'' said the hermit---``his name is Sir
Anthony of Scrabelstone---as if I would drink with
a man, and did not know his name!''
``Thou hast been drinking more than enough,
friar,'' said the woodsman, ``and, I fear, prating
more than enough too.''
``Good yeoman,'' said the knight, coming forward,
``be not wroth with my merry host. He did
but afford me the hospitality which I would have
compelled from him if he had refused it.''
``Thou compel!'' said the friar; ``wait but till
have changed this grey gown for a green cassock,
and if I make not a quarter-staff ring twelve upon
thy pate, I am neither true clerk nor good woodsman.''
While he spoke thus, he stript off his gown, and
appeared in a close black buckram doublet and
drawers, over which he speedily did on a cassock
of green, and hose of the same colour. ``I pray
thee truss my points,'' said he to Wamba, ``and
thou shalt have a cup of sack for thy labour.''
``Gramercy for thy sack,'' said Wamba; ``but
think'st thou it is lawful for me to aid you to
transmew thyself from a holy hermit into a sinful
forester?''
``Never fear,'' said the hermit; ``I will but confess
the sins of my green cloak to my greyfriar's
frock, and all shall be well again.''
``Amen!'' answered the Jester; ``a broadcloth
penitent should have a sackcloth confessor, and
your frock may absolve my motley doublet into
the bargain.''
So saying, he accommodated the friar with his
assistance in tying the endless number of points,
as the laces which attached the hose to the doublet
were then termed.
While they were thus employed, Locksley led
the knight a little apart, and addressed him thus:---
``Deny it not, Sir Knight---you are he who decided
the victory to the advantage of the English
against the strangers on the second day of the
tournament at Ashby.''
``And what follows if you guess truly, good
yeoman?'' replied the knight.
``I should in that case hold you,'' replied the
yeoman, ``a friend to the weaker party.''
``Such is the duty of a true knight at least,'' replied
the Black Champion; ``and I would not willingly
that there were reason to think otherwise of
me.''
``But for my purpose,'' said the yeoman, ``thou
shouldst be as well a good Englishman as a good
knight; for that, which I have to speak of, concerns,
indeed, the duty of every honest man, but
is more especially that of a true-born native of
England.''
``You can speak to no one,'' replied the knight,
``to whom England, and the life of every Englishman,
can be dearer than to me.''
``I would willingly believe so,'' said the woodsman,
``for never had this country such need to be
supported by those who love her. Hear me, and I
will tell thee of an enterprise, in which, if thou best
really that which thou seemest, thou mayst take
an honourable part. A band of villains, in the disguise
of better men than themselves, have made
themselves master of the person of a noble Englishman,
called Cedric the Saxon, together with his
ward, and his friend Athelstane of Coningsburgh,
and have transported them to a castle in this forest,
called Torquilstone. I ask of thee, as a good knight
and a good Englishman, wilt thou aid in their rescue?''
``I am bound by my vow to do so,'' replied the
knight; ``but I would willingly know who you are,
who request my assistance in their behalf ?''
``I am,'' said the forester, ``a nameless man;
but I am the friend of my country, and of my
country's friends---With this account of me you
must for the present remain satisfied, the more
especially since you yourself desire to continue unknown.
Believe, however, that my word, when
pledged, is as inviolate as if I wore golden spurs.''
``I willingly believe it,'' said the knight; ``I
have been accustomed to study men's countenances,
and I can read in thine honesty and resolution. I
will, therefore, ask thee no further questions, but
aid thee in setting at freedom these oppressed captives;
which done, I trust we shall part better acquainted,
and well satisfied with each other.''
``So,'' said Wamba to Gurth,---for the friar
being now fully equipped, the Jester, having approached
to the other side of the hut, had heard
the conclusion of the conversation,---``So we have
got a new ally ?---l trust the valour of the knight
will be truer metal than the religion of the hermit,
or the honesty of the yeoman; for this Locksley
looks like a born deer-stealer, and the priest like a
lusty hypocrite.''
``Hold thy peace, Wamba,'' said Gurth; ``it
may all be as thou dost guess; but were the horned
devil to rise and proffer me his assistance to set at
liberty Cedric and the Lady Rowena, I fear I
should hardly have religion enough to refuse the
foul fiend's offer, and bid him get behind me.''
The friar was now completely accoutred as a
yeoman, with sword and buckler, bow, and quiver,
and a strong partisan over his shoulder. He left
his cell at the head of the party, and, having carefully
locked the door, deposited the key under the
threshold.
``Art thou in condition to do good service, friar,''
said Locksley, ``or does the brown bowl still run
in thy head ?''
``Not more than a drought of St Dunstan's
fountain will allay,'' answered the priest; ``something
there is of a whizzing in my brain, and of instability
in my legs, but you shall presently see both
pass away.''
So saying, he stepped to the stone basin, in
which the waters of the fountain as they fell formed
bubbles which danced in the white moonlight, and
took so long a drought as if he had meant to exhaust
the spring.
``When didst thou drink as deep a drought of
water before, Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst?'' said
the Black Knight.
``Never since my wine-but leaked, and let out
its liquor by an illegal vent,'' replied the friar, ``and
so left me nothing to drink but my patron's bounty
here.''
Then plunging his hands and head into the fountain,
he washed from them all marks of the midnight
revel.
Thus refreshed and sobered, the jolly priest
twirled his heavy partisan round his head with
three fingers, as if he had been balancing a reed,
exclaiming at the same time, ``Where be those
false ravishers, who carry off wenches against their
will? May the foul fiend fly off with me, if I am
not man enough for a dozen of them.''
``Swearest thou, Holy Clerk?'' said the Black
Knight.
``Clerk me no Clerks,'' replied the transformed
priest; ``by Saint George and the Dragon, I am
no longer a shaveling than while my frock is on my
back---When I am cased in my green cassock, I
will drink, swear, and woo a lass, with any blithe
forester in the West Riding.''
``Come on, Jack Priest,'' said Locksley, ``and
be silent; thou art as noisy as a whole convent on
a holy eve, when the Father Abbot has gone to bed.
---Come on you, too, my masters, tarry not to talk
of it---I say, come on, we must collect all our forces,
and few enough we shall have, if we are to storm
the Castle of Reginald Front-de-B
``What! is it Front-de-B
``Oppressor he ever was,'' said Locksley.
``And for thief,'' said the priest, ``I doubt if
ever he were even half so honest a man as many a
thief of my acquaintance.''
``Move on, priest, and be silent,'' said the yeoman;
``it were better you led the way to the place
of rendezvous, than say what should be left unsaid,
both in decency and prudence.''
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