Silver Cross. Mary Johnston

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СКАЧАТЬ went through the black night, reverend father, to Damson Hill and to the great and ill-kept graveyard under the shadow. Brother Barnaby and I followed him. He walked softly and he walked swiftly and he walked silently, and when we came there we did not stop by the chapel which truly is a ruin, but we went on to the far slope of the yard—”

      The Prior said, “Where they are buried who died long since, of the plague that came in King Richard’s time.”

      “I know the place,” said Montjoy.

      “Reverend father, there are three yew trees, old, I reckon, as Damson Hill, and thick. Like one who knows what he is about he passed within the castle of these and we followed and made a place whence we looked forth like eyes out of a skull. And we saw, across the dead field, a little light burning blue and coming toward us. Arm of the hill hid it from the road. But had any belated seen it he would most certainly have thought, ‘A ghost among the graves!’ and taken to his heels.”

      “It came toward you. Who carried it?”

      “One of six, reverend father. We were there in the yew clump with less noise than maketh a bat. They came closer and closer and at last they came close, and now they did not shelter their lantern for they thought, ‘The shoulder of the hill and the yew trees hide, and who should be abroad in this place in the black and middle night, and who should know of a villainy working?’ ”

      The Abbot brought his finger tips together. “It is ever discovered!—They dig a pit and fall into it; they open a grave and lift out their own perdition!”

      “They opened a grave?”

      “Yes, lord. A very ancient, sunken one.”

      “Some unknown,” said the Prior. “Some wretch of ancient time, seized by the plague, dying—who knows?—unshriven, lazar mayhap or thief! Proceed, my son!”

      “Two had spades. They spread a great cloth. They lay the green turf to one side of this, and in the middle the earth of the grave. They work hard and they work fast, and a monk directs—”

      “Monk of Saint Leofric’s?”

      “Aye, lord, Dominican. White-and-black. They open the grave and they bring forth bones—the frame of that perished one.”

      The Abbot groaned. “Perished mayhap in his sins—yea, almost certainly in his sins—and so no better than heathen or than sorcerer!”

      “They spread a second cloth, and having shaken forth the earth, they put in it the bones of that obscure—yea, right arm and hand with the rest—”

      “See you, Montjoy?”

      “Then, having that which they need, they fill in the grave with care. They put over it the sod they had taken away. Rain and sun must presently make it whole. And probably no man hath ever gone that way to look. So the six went away as though they had moth wings, and now with no light—”

      “Yet they give forth that right hand and arm doth shine, giving light whereby a reading man may read! Wherefore—oh, Hugh!—shone it not by Damson Hill?”

      Said Montjoy, “All this is enough to father Suspicion, but the child must be named Certainty.”

      “Then listen further!—Proceed, my son. You two and the hermit followed?”

      “We followed, reverend father. Under Damson Hill those six parted, and three went by divers ways, belike to their own dwellings. But the three with the bones they had digged went Saint Leofric’s road. We followed Blackfriar and his fellows who would be lay brethren. The moon shone out. We followed to Friary Gate and saw them enter.”

      “And then?”

      “Gregory the hermit turned and went again to Damson Wood, and we with him. When we came to his cell there was red east.”

      “What did you think of what you had seen?”

      “We could conceive naught, lord. We did not know that which was to be proclaimed in Easter week. But the hermit said thrice, ‘Villainy! Villainy! Villainy! A shepherd hath turned villain!’ ”

      Brother Barnaby came in. “He said besides, ‘I see what you cannot see, good brothers! But dimly, and I cannot explain to myself what I see.’ ”

      “I had forgot that.”

      “He said also. ‘Talk not, till you know of what you are talking,’ and he took from us a promise of silence.”

      “I was coming to that, brother.—We are not gabblers, reverend father. We left Damson Wood and came down to the bridge and crossed river to our own side. We said naught, remembering, ‘Talk not till you know of what you are talking.’ Two days went by, and then near Little Winching, up the Wander, down lay Brother Barnaby with a fever, and I must nurse him for a month. He, being very sick, forgot, and I being busy and concerned, nigh forgot Damson Graveyard and Saint Leofric’s Gate. Then, Brother Barnaby getting well and we walking in a fair morning to Little Winching, there meets us all the bruit!”

      “And still”—Brother Barnaby came in again—“we said nothing. But it burned our hearts. So said Brother Andrew, ‘We will go take this thing to Prior Matthew of Westforest.’ ”

      “And so they did, according to right inner counsel,” said the Prior. He turned in his chair. “You may go now, my sons. But on your obedience, speak as yet to none other of these things!”

      Brother Andrew and Brother Barnaby craved blessing, received it and vanished. There was pause, then, “If we check not Hugh,” said the Abbot, “we shall have loss and shame, being no longer the first, the pupil of the eye, to this part England!”

      “If they spoke,” said Montjoy, “none would believe them against the miracles. Nor do I know if I would believe. Say that one saw the robbed grave—what then? One travels not much further! I would believe, I think, the hermit.”

      “Then will you ride, Montjoy, to Damson Wood?”

      “Yes, I will go there. But my believing and yours and Gregory’s and the friars’ make not yet the people’s believing. Here is stuff for splendid quarrel with Hugh—but in the meantime go the folk in rivers, touch the relics and are healed!”

      “What we need,” said the Prior, and he spoke slowly and cautiously, “is counter-miracle.”

      “Yes, but you cannot order the Saints!”

      “No.”

      It was again the Prior who spoke and apparently in agreement. The Abbot sighed. “Well, let us to bed!—Go to Damson Wood, Montjoy, and then ride to Silver Cross.”

      “I will do that. I see,” said Montjoy, “the mischief that this thing does you—”

      Even as he spoke he had a vision of the Abbey church of Silver Cross. He saw the tombs and the sculptured figure of Isabel whom he had loved, and the great altar painting of Our Lady done in Italy. Under the breath of his mind he thought that that form and face were like Isabel’s. So like that almost she might have been in that Italian painter’s mind when he painted this glorified woman standing buoyant, in carnation and sapphire, among clouds СКАЧАТЬ