Newspapers / The Charlotte Observer (Charlotte, … / Feb. 3, 1907, edition 1 / Page 17
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geco:;d ii t .... ,. t 1' ; m Author of "The Whito Company,' "The Adventures of Sherlock" 1 Holmes," Etc. ' ) v . INTRODUCTION. ' " Dame History , Is 10 austere a lady ( that If one has been bo Ill-advised as ) take a liberty with her. One should $Aastn (o make ; amends toj repent- anee and confession.' Events have been transposed to the extent of some i , few month In this narrative, in order to preserve the continuity and even ' ness of the story. ; I hope so small a divergence may seem a venial er ror after so many centuries. - For the rest, it Is as accurate as a food deal of , research and hard work could make it. The matter of diction is always a question of taste and discretion la.-a historical reproduction.' ' In the year 1350 the tipper classes still spoke Nor-man-French,, though, they , were Just beginning- to, condescend to English. The lower Masses spoke the English r of the original . Piers Plowman text, ' which would be considerably more obscure than their superiors' French In the month of July of the year - Hit, between the feasts Of St Ben edict and of St. Swithin, si strange - thing came upon England, -for out of the east there drilled a monstrous cloud, purple and piled, heavy with evil, climbing slowly up. the hushed , heaven. . In- the shadow of that strange cloud the. leaves drooped in the. trees' the birds ceased their" call ing; ahd' the; 'cattle and . the sheep gathered cowering under the hedges. A 'gloom fell upon all the land, .and men stood with, their eyes upon the strange cloud : and a heaviness upon their 1 hearts.- They crept into the churches where the enabling people were blessed . and ... shriven by the trembling priests. Outside no bird flew, and there. came no rustling from the woods, nor any of the homely sounds of: Nature. All was still, and nothing moved, save only the. great cloud which rolled up- and onward, with fold on fold from the black hor lalon. To the west - was the light summer sky, to tAe east this brooding cloud-bank, creeping ever slowly ' across, until the last thin blue gleam faded away and the whole vast sweep of the heavens was one great leaden arch. ' Then the rain began to fail. All day it rained, and all the ntfcht and . all the veek and all the month until folk had forgotten the blue heavens and the gleam of tfc sunshine. )t was not heavy, but It was steady and cold and unceasing, so that the people were weary of its hissing and its splashing, with the . blow drip from the eaves. .Always the same thick vtvil clour flowed from east to weet with the rain' beneath it None could sea tor more than a bow-shot from their dwellings for the-drifting veil. of the rain-storms. Every morn ing tho folk looked upward for a break, but their eyes .rested always upon the same endless' .cloud, until at last thi ceased to look up, and their . hearts despaired of ever seeing the change. It was raining f t Lammas tide and raining at the Feast of the Assumption and still raining at Mich aelmas. 'The crops and the hay, aod- "den and black had rotted in the fields,'- for they were not worth the garnering. The sheep had died, and the calves also, so there was UlU to kill when Martinmas came and It ' was time to salt the meat for the winter. They feared a famine,- but It was worse than famine which was . In stora for them. . For the rain had ceased at last, ' end a, sickly autumn sun shone upon ' m land which was soakei and sodden with-water. Wet and rotten leaves . reekd and festered under the foul -.. base which rose from the woods. The . : field's jrere spotted . with : monstrous ; fungi M else and color never match ed before acarlet and mauve and liver and black. It - was as though : the sick earth had burst into foul - pustules; mildew and lichen motted the walls, and with. that filthy crop ,; death spring : also from tha water soaked earth. ' Men died, and women . and children, the baron of tha cas , tie,! the franklin on the. farm, . the monk in the abbey and the villein In Si ..i',fy .11.. . " "'H'!' " '.' IV. ' "ni'ii 11" mm 11 i..i.ii..i.nn".'ii'i n'l 1 .mi mil ' 1 hi ii 1 11 1 11 n 1 4 . I v s " f , 1 w . . f j ' . ,''f.1'.,H';V.ij', 4 ' ' ' ' , 1 ' ' ' ' -1 ' . .. .'?' :."rv ' 1 ; .. 4 . ' ' :v A f I'- wattle-and-daub - cottage. : All Vnt)il tha'aam; nAllntdA rank anil . died the same death of , corrup tion. Of those who -were stricken ' Bone recovered, and the lllnes was - ever the same gross bolls, raving, and the black, blotches which gave 1U ', nam to', the disease.- All thronch the winter the . dead rotted by the wayside for want of . some ona - to bury them. ' In many a - villas no ' Cngle man was left alive. : Then at ' v. last the spring ram with sunshine and health and lightness and laugh 1 tor-tha greenest, sweetest, tenderest ' spring that England had ever known but, only half ' of England . could r know it. The other half had passed h y'away, with. the great purple cloud. K, ; ' Tet it was there In that stream of V death. In that reek of corruption, s that th brighter and freer England , wss born. There in that : dark hour . i- the first streak of the new dawn was seen. For In no way save by a great ' upheaval and chance could the na tion break away from that Iron frudal system which held her limbs. But now It was a new country which csme out from that year of death. The barons were dead la swath No Dy A. (Q C3YLE. if the two were now reproduced or imitated. The most' which the chronicles can do is to catch the ca dence and style of. their talk, and to Infuse, here and there such a dash of the archaic as may vindicate -their fashion of. speech'tAvW ?' ; I am aware that there 'are inci dents which 'may , strike the modern reader as brutal and repellent. It Is useless,, however; to draw the twen tieth century and label it the fourteenth.- It was a- sterner age, and men's-, code' of morality,' especially In. matters of cruelty,1 was very differ ent ; There Is no Incident in 4ha text for which very good warrant may not be- given;: 'The fantastic graces of chivalry lay upon the sufac of life, but beneath it was a half-savage pop ulation,? fierce and animal, with tittle ruth or' mercy, It was a raw, rude England, full of elemental passions, andt redeemed only by elemental vir tues. Such I have tried to draw it. : For good or bad many books have gone to the building 1 of this one, I high turret nor cunning moat 'could keep out that black commoner who struck them down. Oppressive laws slackened for - want of those who could enforce them, and once slack ened could never be enforced again. The laborer would be a slave no long er. Th , bondsman snapped , his shackles. There was much to do and few left to do it. Therefore the few should be free man.tmcMr-WT price, and work .where .and for whom they would. It - was the black death which cleared the way for that great rising , thirty years later which left the English ipeasant the freest of his class, in Europe. But there were few so far-slahted that they could see that here, as ever, good was coming out of evil. At the moment misery and ruin were brought.. Into every n family. The dead cattle, the ungarnered crops, the untitled landsevery spring of wealth had dried up at the same mo ment. Those who were rich became poor; but those .who were noor al ready, and especially those who were poor witn the burden of gentility upon their shoulders, found them selves In a perilous state. All through England the smaller gentry were ruinea. tor uiey.had no trade save war, and they drew their living rrora tne worg of others. On many a manor-house there came evil times, and on none mora than on the Manor of Tllford, where for many genera tions the noble family of the Lorlngs had held their home. There was a. time , when the Lor lngs had held the country from the North Downs to the lakee of Fren sham, and when their grim castle- keep rising above the green meadows which border tha river. Way had been the strongest fortallce betwixt Guild ford Castle in the, east and Win chester in the west. But there came that - Barons' War, In . which the King used , his ' Saxon subjects as a s whip with. which to scourge. his Norman barons, and Castle Xorlng, like so many, other great , strongholds, was swept from the face of the lard. From that time the Lorlngs. with es tates sadly curtailed, lived In, what had been the dower-house, with enough for. splendor. 1 And then came their . lawsuit with Waverley Asbey,. and the Cistercians iaia ciaim to-ineir ricnest tana, wun peccary, .turbary '.and 'feudal - rights hover, the remainder. It lingered) on for years, this great lawsuit and when it was finished the men of the Church and the men of the law had divide! all that was richest of the estate between them. Thera was still left . the old manor-house from which with ' each generation thero came a soldier to uphold tha credit of the, name and to show the five scarlet roses on the silver shield where It had always been shown In 'the van. . There were .twelve bronses In th little chapel where Matthew, th priest, said mass every mornlnjr, all of men of the house of Lorlng. ' Two- lay with-' their legs crossed, as being from the Crusades. Six others . rested their feet npon lions, as, having died in war. i Four onljr lay with .the effigy'"" of 1 their hounds to show that they, had passed Lin peaca.W1-.' -V. -.-.., Of this ramoua - but impoverished family, doubly impoverished by law and by pestilence, ' two members were' living in the year of grace 114 Lady Ermyntmde Leting and- her grandson Nigel. Lady- Ermyntrude's husband had fallen before the Scot tish ppearsmeh'at Sterling, and! her son - Eustace, ' Nigel's father, had found a glorious death nine years be fore this chronicle jopens upon th poop of a Norman galley at the sea fight of 81uys The lonely , old wo man, fierce and brooding like; the faloon mewed in her chamber, was soft only toward the tad whom she had brought up. All the tenderness and love of her nature, so hidden froni others that they could hot Im agine their existence, were lavished upon him. She 'could not besr htm away from her,1 and he, with that respect for-authority, which the age demanded, would not go without hor blessing and consent ' So it came about that Nigel, With his lion hesrt and with the blood of a hundred soldiers thrilling la Ills look around my study table and t survey those 'which ' lie with me at the moment, 'befor ' I - happily dis perse them forever. "I see La Croix's "Middle Ages." Oman's Art of War ,Rietatap' ?'Armoria. General." De la Borderle's "Hlstolre 1 de ' Bre tagne," Dame Berner" "Boke of St. Albans," .'The Chronicle vf Jocelyn of V Brokeland." .! The . Old 1 Road," Howitt'e "Anclant-Armour," Coussan's "Heraldry," Boutell's ; Arms," Browne's "Chaucer's England." Cust's "Scenes of the Middle Ages;" Hus serand's - "Wayfaring Life," Ward's "Canterbury 1 Pilgrims," j Cornish's "Chivalry,'' Hastings' "British Arch er," Strutt's ."Sports." - Johnes Frols sarv Hargrove's 'Archery," y 'Long man's "Edward III." Wright's "Do mestic ' Manners." With these; and many, others I have lived for months. If I have been unable to combine and transfer their - effect, the ' fault is mine. - , " v ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE. . "Undershaw," Nov. 80,, I05. f " . veins, still at the age of two and twenty, wasted the weary days re Claiming his hawks with leash and lure or training the alans and spaa lets who shared with the family the big earthen-floored hall of the manor house. Day by day the aged Lady Ermyn- trude had seen him wax in strength a Mu,'of flre. From . J partBfrom the warden of Ouildford Castle, from the tilt-yard of Farnham, tales of his prowess were brought back to her, of his daring as a rld t his debon air courage, of his skill with all wea pons; but still she, who had both husband and son torn from her by a bloody death, could not bear thai this," the last of the Lorlngs, the final bud of so famous an old tree, should share the same fate. With a weary heart, but .with a smiling face, he bore with his uneventful days, while she would ever put off the evil time until the harvest was better, until the monks of Waverley should give up what they had taken, until his uncle should die and leave money for his outfit, or any other excuse with which she could hold him to her side. And' Indeed, .there was need for a man at Tilford, for the atrlfn be twixt the Abbey and the manor house had never been appeased, and still on one pretext or another the monks would , clip off yet one more slice of their neighbor's land. Over the winding river, across the green meadows, rose the short square tower and the high gray walls of tho grim Abbey, with Its bell tolling by day and night a voice of menace and f dread to the little household. It Is In the heart of the great Cis tercian monastery that this chronicle of old days must take Its start, as we trace he feud betwixt the monks and the house of. Lorlng; with those events to which It gave birth, ending with the coming of Chandos, the strange spear-runnlng of Tllford Bridge and the deeds with which Nigel won fame in the. wars. Else where, in the chronicle of the White Company, it has been set forth what manner of man was Nigel Lorlng. Those who love him may read herein those things which went to his mak ing. Let us go back together and gase upon this green ' stage of En gland, the scenery, hill, plain and river even as now, the actors In much our very selves. In much also so changed In thought and act that they might bo dwellers in another How tiie Devil Came to Waverley.' The day was the first of May, which was the Festival of lha Blessed Apos tles Philip and ames. The, year was the l,S4th from man's salvation From tierce to sext, and then again from sext.to nones, 'Abbot John, of the House , of Waverley, had been seat ed in his study while he conducted the many high duties of his office. All around for many a mile on vvery side stretched the- fertile and flour ishing estate of which, he was : th master. In tho centra lay th broad Abbey buildings, with : church' - and cloisters, hospltlum, ' chapter-house and f rater-house, all' bussing with a busy life, v Through th Open window cam the, low hum of the voices of th brethren as they walked In pious converse in the ambulatory tfclow. From across the cloister there rolled the distant . rise and fall . of . a Gre gorian chant,, wher tha precentor was , hard at work upon th choir, while down ' In ' th ( chapter-house sounded the strident Voice of Broth er Peter, expounding the rule ot Saint Bernard to th novices. U . ; Abbot' John rose to strelcn a hi cramped limbs. ' He looked out at th greensward of the cloister, . and at th graceful line of'open Gothic arches which skirted a covered walk for, th brethren within, r Two and two in -their? black-and-white "garb with slow step ' and heads Inclined, they , paced round and rounds Sev eral of tho more studious had brought their Illuminating work ' from the scriptorium, and sat In th warm sun shin with their llttfe plattre of pigments and ' packets of - gold-leaf befor them, their shoulder rounded and ,th 'lr fi'"t mink low over th whlto slit'eta of vHlum. There too was tho cornier-worker, with his burin and graver. Learning and urt were not traditions with the Cister cians as with the parent Order o the Benedictines, and yet the library of Waverley " was well filled with pre pious books and with pious students. ( But the true "glory of the Cister cian lay In his outdoor work, and so ever and anon there passed through the cloister some- sun-burned monk, soiled mattock ' or - shovel In , hand, with his gown looped to his knee, fresh from the fields or the garden. The v lush T green " water-meadows speckled .. with-?, the heavy-fleeced sheep, the acres of corn-la nd re claimed from heather, and bracken, the vineyards on the southern slope of Crooksbiiry? Hill, ' tho ; rows '"'-or Hankley: fish-ponds, the Frensham marshes 'drained And' sown : with veg etables, the' spacious pigeon-cotes, all circled the; great "Abbey , round with the .visible labor; of ;!the ; order. The Abbot's full and florid ; : face shone with, a quiet content as he looked ' out at his ; huge but well ordered household.' Like every head of a prosperous .Abbey, Abbot John, the fourth of the name, was a man of various accomplishments. Through his own chosen Instruments he had to minister a. great estate and to keep order and - decorum among a large body of men living a celibate life, He was a rigid disciplinarian toward all beneath him, a supple diplomatist to all above. Ho , held high debate with neighboring abbots and lords, with bishops, with papal legates, and ' ,l even on occasion with the King's majesty himself. Many were the subjects with which he must be con versant. Questions of doctrine, questions of building, points of for estry, of agriculture, Of - drainage, of feudal law, all came to the Abbot for settlement He held tha scales of Justice In all tha Abbey banlicue which stretched over, many, a mile of ailtt )f" jguirV.'Wft4t'- under-1 Ji" ;,, dlspleasura might , mean Down. Well. fasting, exile to some sterner com munlty, or even Imprisonment in chains. Over the layman also he could hold any punishment 'save only corporal death, Instead of which he had in hand the far more dreadful weapon of spiritual excommunica tion. Such were the powers of the Ab bot and it Is no wonder that there were masterful lines In th ruddy features of Abbot John, or that the brethren, glancing up, should put on an even meeker carriage and more demure expression as they saw the watchful face In the window above them. A knock at .the door 'of his studio recalled the Abbot to his immediate duties, and he returned to his- desk. Already he had spoken with his cel larer and prior, almoner, . chaplain and lector, but now In .tha tail and gaunt monk who obeyed his summons to enter he recognised the most im portant and also the most importu nate of his agents. Brother Samuel, tha sacrist whose office, correspond ing to that of the layman' bailiff, placed the material Interests of the monastery and Its dealings . with the outer world entirely under his con trol subjects only to th check of the Abbot. Brother Samuel was a gnarl ed and stringy old monk,-whose stern and aharp-featured face "reflected no light ' from above, but only that sor did workaday world toward which. It was forever turned. A hue book of account was tucked under on of his arms, while a great bunch of keys hung from the other hand, a badg of his office, and also on occasion of Impatience a weapon of offense, n many a' scarred head among rustics and lay brothers could testify. 75 Tho Abbot sighed wearily, for ho suUircd much t the hand.i of his strenuous agent "Wfill, Brothei; Samuel, what Is your Will?" he asked.'"'"'.'.'"..:- " p:, ' "'' "Holy father.' I have to report that I have sold the wool to Master Bald win, of Winchester, at two shlllir.gs a bale more than it fetched last year, for the murrain among the sheep has raised the price." "You have don well, brother." 1 have also to tell you that I have distrained Wat the warrener, from his cottage, for his Christmas rent is still unpaid; nor the hen-rents of last year," rr4 ?;-?y: (f-t,"'-'' ' "He has a wife ani four children, brother.',,' ; He was a good, easy man, the Abbot, though liable to be over borne by his sterner subordinate. , K ''It is true, holy father; , but If I should pass him, then . how am I to ask the rent of the forester of Put tenham, or the hinds In the' village t Such a thing spreads from house to house, and , where then Is the wealth of cWaverleyJ.isui.vv-v r-.?7!; f'What else,T Brother Samuel?" ' '4 'There Is the matter of the fish ponds,", : -;-'.:,.: .; . The (Abbot's face brightened. ' It was a subject upon which he was an authority. : If the rule of his Or der had robbed him of the softer Joys of .life, he. had the- keener sest for those which remained. "How have ' the char prospered, brother?" "They have done well, holy father, but the carp have died in the Abbot's pond."'. J . "Carp, prosper Only upon a gravel bottonv They must be put In also In their due proportion, three milters to one spawner, brother sacrist, and th apot must be free from wind, stony and sandy, an ell deep, with willows and grass upon the banks. Mud .for. tench,' brother, gravel for carp." The sacrist leaned forward with the face of one who bears tidings of woe. "There are pike In the Abbot's pond," said he. ' "Pike!" cried tha Abbot In horror. "As well shut up a wolf in our sheepfold. How came a pike in the pond?. There were no pike last year, and a pike does not fall with the rain nor rise In the springs. The pond must be drained, or we shall spend next Lent upon stockfish, and have the brethren down with tha great sickness ere Easter Sunday has come to absolve us from our abstinence." "The bond shall be drained, holy father; I have already ordered it. Than we shall plant pot-herbs on the mud bottom, and after we have gath ered them In return the fish, and water once more from the lower pond,' so that they may fatten among tho rich stubble." "Good!" Cried the Abbot. "I would have three nsh-stews In every well ordered house one dry for herbs, one shallow for the fry and the yearl ings, and one deep for the breeders and the table-fish. But still. I have not heard you say how the pike came Irf the Abbot's pond." A spasm of anger passed over the fierce face of the sacrist, and his keys rattled as his bony hand clasped them more tightly. "Young Nlgal Lorlng!" "He swore that he would do us scathe, and In this way he has done It." "How know you this?" "Six week's ago he was seen day by dav fishing for Pike at the great Lake of Frensham., Twice at night be has. been met with a bundle or his arm on tne ..uankiey I wot that the straw was wet and that a live pike lay within It." The Abbot shook his head. "I have heard much of this youth's wild ways; but now indeed he has passed all bounds If what you say be truth. It was bad enough when it was said that he slew the King's deer In Wool- mer Chase, or broke the head of Hobbs, th chapman, so that he lay for seven days betwixt life and death In our Infirmary, saved only by Broth er Peter's skill In the pharmacies of herbs; but to put pike In the Abbot's pond why should be play sucn devil's prank?" "Because he hates the House of Waverley, holy father; because he swears that we hold his father's land." tn which there Is surely some truth."5 "But holy father, wo hold no more than the law has allowed." "True, brother, and yet between ourselves, we may admit that the heavier purse may weigh down the scales of Justice. When I have pass ed the old house and have seen that aged woman with her ruddled cheeks and her baleful eyes look the ourses sne aare not speak, 1 nave many a time wished that we had other neigh bors." "That we can soon bring about holy father. Indeed, it Is of It that I wished to speak to you. Surety It is not hard ror us to drive them from the country-side, There are thirty years claims of escuragA unsettled. and there Is Sergeant Wllklna, the lawyer or ouildford. whom I will warrant, to draw up such arrears of duos and rents and Issues of hldage and fodder-corn that hese folk, who are as beggarly as they are proud. will have to sell tha roof-tree over .74 ? v. r ' " i " "' V-'-'.l- '. ' H ' them ere they can meet them. With in throe days I will have them at our mercy." . - ' They are an ancient iamuy ana of good repute, I would not treat them too harshly, torotner. "Bethink you of the pike m tne carp pond!" ' V The Abbot hardened nis neari ai tha thouaht "It was Indeed a devil's deed when we had but newly stock ed it with char and with carp. Wall, well, the law is the , law, ana , you can use it .to, hurt, ; it Is still lawful ; to do so. , Have, ' these claims been advanced y-yb 7 .7 "Deacon the ; bailiff avith hla- two varlets went down to the hall yester night on the matter of the escuage, and came screaming back with this young, hothead raging at their ' heels. Ha U small and slleht. vet he has the strength of many men in the hour of his wrath. The bamn swears tna he will sro no more, save With half a score of archers to uphold him.?;; The Abbot was red . with anger at this new offense. "I will teach him that the ; servants of. Holy t Church, even though we of the rule of Saint Bernard be the lowliest and hum blest of her children, can still de fend their own against the froward and the violent! Go, cite this man before the Abbey court Let him ap pear in the chapter-house after tierce to-morrow." But the wary sacrist shook his head. "Nay, holy father, tho times are not yet ripe. Glv me three days, I pray you, that my case against him may be complete. Bear In mind that the father and the grandfather of this unruly squire were both fa mous men of their day and tha fore most knights In the King's own ser vice, living In high honor and dying In their knightly duty. The Lady Ermyntrude Lorlng, was first lady to the King's mother. Roger FttzAlan, of Farnham, and Sir Hugh . Walcott. of Guildford Castle, were each old comrades-in-arms of Nigel's father, and sib to him on the distaff side. Already there has been talk that we have dealt harshly with them. There fore, my rede Is that we be wise and wary and wait until his cup be in deed fufl." - The Abbot had opened his mouth to reply, when the consultation was interrupted by a most unwonted bun of excitement from among the monks In the cloister below. Questions and answers In excited voices sounded from one side of the ambulatory to the other. Sacrist and Abbot were gazing at each other In amazement at such a breach of the discipline and decorum of their well-trained flock, when there came a swift step upon the stair, and a white-faced brother flung open the door and rushed into the room. "Father Abbot!" he cried. "Alas. alas! Brother John Is dead, and tha holy subprlor Is dead, and the devil Is loos In the flve-vlrgate field!" III. The Yellow Horse of Crooksbury. In those simple times there was a great wonder and mystery In life, Man walked In fear and solemnity. with heaven very close above his head, and hell below hla very feet God's visible hnnd wun warvvhan In the rainbow and the comet, in the thunder and the wind.'v Th- devil too raged openly upo' the earth; he skulked behind th hedge-rows In th rloamlnfl. ha .lanvhtiA lAnrft. in nlghjutlmaha,, clawed-the- 4ytnf eln. ner, puuncea. vu me. yfjnfl .pnPfti and twietedtho- fhwW'Bf the epileptic. A . foul fiend slunk ever by a man's side and whispered villainies In-his ear, while above him thera hovered an angel of grace, who pointed to me sieep ana narrow track. How could one doubt these things, when Pope and priest and scholar and King; wrre all united In bllav1na thm with no single voice of question In me wnoie wide world? Every book read, every ploturo seen, every tale heard from nurse or mother, all taught the same lesson. And as a man traveled through tha world his faith would grow the firm er, for go where he would there were the endless shrines of the saints, eacn witn its holy relic In the centre and around It the tradition of inces sant miracles, with atanlra nf 4..rf. ed crutches and silver votive hearts to prove them. At every turn he was maae 10 reel now thin was the veil, and hOW easllv rent, whlnh annana him from the awful denizens of the unseen world. Hence the wIM nnnmin.Am-n n the frightened monk seemed terrible ramer tnan incredible to those whom he addressed. Tho Abbot's ruddy face naiad for r but he pluCkel the crlclnx from his uesK ana rose valiantly to his feet. "Lead me to htm!" aalrl ha "at.. me the foul fiend who dares to lay his grip upon brethren of the holy uuuae 01 eaini Bernard! Run down tiT my chaplain, brother! him brlna the enrrl-t with him mA the blessed box of relics, and the bones of Saint James from under th altar. With these and a contrite and humble heart we may show front iu mi me powers or darkness." But the sacrist was of a mor h leal turn of mind. He clutched the monk s arm with . rrin Its fiv purple spots for many a day IV VVIIlfJ, "Is this the way to enter the Ab uw" iraocr, wunout Knock or reverence, or so much a a 'Pax vobls cum 7"' said he sternly. "You were wont to De our gentlest novice, of lowiy carriage in chapter, devout in psalmody and strict In the cloister. Pull your wiu together and answer me stralghtly. In what form has the foul fiend appeared, and how has he done this grlevoos Math to our brethren t Have you see him with your own eyes, or do you repeat from hearsay? Speak, man, or you stand on the penance-stool in the chapter house this very hour!" Thua adjured, the frightened monk grew calmer 1n his bearing, though his white Hps and his startled eyes, with the gasping of hi brjath, told of his Inward tremors, "If It pleas you, holy father, and you, reverend sacrist, it cam about In this way. James, the subprlor, and Brother John and I had spent our day from sext onward on Hank ley, cutting bracken for th cow houses. W were coming back over tb flve-vlrgste field, and . the holy subprlor waa telling us a saintly tale from th life of Saint Gregory, wbtn there cam a sudden sound ilk ' a rushttjg torrent, and the foul fiend sprang over th high .', wall which skirts the water-meadow and rushed upon, us with the speed ot the wind. Th lay brother he (truck to th ground and trampled into th mire. Then, , seizing the good subprlor In hi teeth, he rushed round the field, swinging htm as though h were a fardel of Old Clothes. . ' y, "Amazed at such i "sight, l aiood without movement fend had said a credo and three aves, whan tha Devil dropped th subprlor and sprang up on me. With th help of Saint Ber nard I clambered over ' wall, but not befor his teeth had found my leg,' and he had torn away the whole hark skirt nf tnW anwn li lia annlra h turned and gave corroboration to his story by t:. i !. t. ' , ; ru!ni : loni? trailing f irrncnt. "in what eiiur-o th.-n CM f,!. t appear?" the Abbot demanded., "As a great yellow horwo. hulv father a monster horse, with eyes of fire and the teeth of a grlflln." A yellow horse!" 'The sTit glared at the scared monk. "You foolish brother! how will you behave when you have Indeed to face the King: of Terrors himself If you can be so frightened by the sight of a yellow horse? It Is the horse of Franklin Aylward, my father, which has been dlstalned by us. because he owes the Abbey fifty good shillings and can never hope to pay It Such a horse, they ay. Is not to I found betwixt this and th King's stables at Windsor, for his sir was Span ish destrer,: and his dam an Arab mare of the. very breed which Saladln. whose soul now reeks in' hell, kept ror nis own use, and even it has baen said under the shelter . of hla : own tent. I took him In discharge of th debt,'; and I ordered th varlet who had haltered blm . to leave him alone . In the water-meadow, ' for I have heard that the . beast has Indeed a - most evil spirit, and has killed mora men ; than one." . s - r"h "It. was an' Ul day for WaverUr that you brought such a monster within Its bounds," said the Abbot. ' , "If the. subprlor and Brother John -be Indeed dead, then It would seem that If the horse be not the devil, he , Is at least the devil's instrument" " "Horse or Devil, holy father, I heard him shout with joy as he ' trampled upon Brother John, and had i ' , you sen him tossing the subpiior aa '. a dog shakes a rat you would per chance have felt even as I did." ( , Come then," cried the Abbot "let us see with our own eyes what evil has been done." . 1 7 And the three monks hurried down " the stair which led to the cloisters. They had no sooner descended P , . than' their more pressing fears were r, " set at rest, for at that very moment, limping, disheveled and mud-stained, y the two sufferers were bolng led in amid a crowd of sympathising breth- , ren. Shouts and cries from outside ; ' showed, however,' that some further -- ---drama was in progress, and both Ab- . r- bot and sacrist hastened onward as , fast as the dignity of their office would permit until they had passed , ' the gates and gained the wall of th ' meadow. Looking over It, a remark- "" able sight presented Itself to their . . ; v eyas. Fetlock deep In the lush grass there stood a magnificent horse, such, k a horse as a sculptor or a soldier might thrill to see. His color waa a light chestnut, with mane and tall ' . of a more tawny tint Seventeen hands high, with a barrel and haunches which bespoke tremendous strength, he fined down to the most '' delicate lines of dainty breed In neck and crest and shoulder. He waa In- 1 1 deed a glorious sight as he stood there, his beautiful body leaning back frtom his wide-spread and prop- -', -ped fore legs, his head craned high, , ' his ears erect, his mane bristling, his red nostrils opening and shutting with wrath, and his flashing eyes turning from side to side in haughty 1 menace and defiance. Scattered round In a respectful e!rcje,'jslt of the Abbey lay servant ' audr f tweafcrs, each holding a halter, were reeling toward him.t Evnr now and-hen,brtcauafiil tose-. and swerve and plunge, tha great , creature would turn upon one of hla t would-be captors, and with out- -. , stretched head, flying mane and flash ing teeth, would chase him screaming , to the safety of the wall, while the ' , others would close swiftly in behind , -and cast their ropes In the hope of catching neck or leg, but only In . . their turn to be chased to the nearest '.-. refuge. . , Had two of these ropes settled up- 1 -on the horse, and had their throwers ' found some purchase of stump or bowlder by which they could hold ' them, then the man's brain might have won its wonted victory over : swiftness and strength. But the , v brains were themselves at fault which imagined that one such rope would f serve any purpose save to endanger . . : ", the thrower. : -. Tet so It was, and what might , ; have been foreseen occurred at th " very moment of the arrival of tha monks. Th horse, having chased . one of his enemies to the wall, re malned so long snorting his contempt -' ' .:.' over the coping that the others were able to creep upon him from behind. Several ropes were flung, and one . noosa settled over the proud crest and lost Itself in the waving mane. 7 In an instant the creature had turn- , ' ed and th men were flying for their ' lives; but he who had cast th rope v . lingered, un. ertaln what us to mak of his own succesa That moment of '' "; doubt was fatal. With a yell of dls- ' ' may, the man saw the great creature r rear above him. Then with a crash . . the fore feet fell upon him and dash- ' -ed him to the ground. He rose ' screaming, was hurled over once ' more, and lay a quivering, bleeding ' heap, while the savage horse, the : most cruel and terrible In Its anger of all creatures on earth, bit and ' ' shook and trampled the writhing . body. '. A loud wall of horror rose from ' the lines of tonsured heads which, 1 skirted the high wall a waU which " ' suddenly died away Into a long hushed t silence, broken at last by a rapturoua v ' cry of thanksgiving and of joy. ' On the road which led to th old t dark manor-house upon th sld of ' the hill a youth had been riding. Hut . mount waa a sorry one, a weedy, f ' shambling, : long-haired colt, and his 1 patched tun la of faded purple with stained leather belt presented no very " k smart appearance: yet la th bearing of the man. In the pels of hla head. 7 In his easy graceful carriage, and 4n ' the bold glance of hla large blue eyes, there waa that stamp of distinction: and ot breed which would have given ' him a place of hla own in any aa- . aembly. - He waa of small stature, . but his frame was singularly elegant and graceful, nis faoe, though tan- . nod with the weather, was delicate In feature svmd most eager and alert In expression. A thick fringe of , crisp yellow curls broke from under :. th dark flat cap which he waa wear- 1 lng, and a short golden beard hid th outline of hla strong . square " chin. One white osprey feather thrust through a gold brooch In the-front of his cap gave a touch of grace to his somber garb. This and other " points of hla attire, the short hang ing mantle, the leather-sheathed hunting knife, tha cross belt Which sustained a brazen horn, tha soft doe-skin boots and the prick spurn, would all disclose- themselves to an ', Observer:, but at the first glance tha brownace set in gold and the danc ing light of the quick. , rcklo, laughing eye, were th on strong memory left behind. ' . ' Such waa the youth who, cracklnsr his whip Joyously, and followed ry half a score of dons. cnntrd on is rude pony down the Tiiforl 1 and thenee It wi tht nh a . of amused contempt upon lti fn-n ! Observed th com4y in t'ia fill r 1
The Charlotte Observer (Charlotte, N.C.)
Standardized title groups preceding, succeeding, and alternate titles together.
Feb. 3, 1907, edition 1
17
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