As the evening drew on, Chris was again at the window alone. He had said his office earlier in the afternoon, and sat here again now, with his hands before him, staring down at the church.
One of the servants had come up with a message from Sir James an hour before telling him not to expect them before dusk; and that they would send up news of any further developments. The whole town was there, said the man: it had been found impossible to keep them out. Dom Anthony presently came again and sat with Chris; and Mr. Morris, who had been left as a safeguard to the monks, slipped in soon after and stood behind the two; and so the three waited.
The sky was beginning to glow again as it had done last night with the clear radiance of a cloudless sunset; and the tall west tower stood up bright in the glory. How infinitely far away last night seemed now, little and yet distinct as a landscape seen through a reversed telescope! How far away that silent waiting at the cloister door, the clamour at the gate, the forced entrance, the slipping away through the church!
The smoke was rising faster than ever now from the great chimney, and hung in a cloud above the buildings. Perhaps even now the lead was being cast.
There was a clatter at the corner of the cobbled street below, and Dom Anthony leaned from the window. He drew back.
"It is the horses," he said.
The servant presently came up to announce that the two gentlemen were following immediately, and that he had had orders to procure horses and saddle them at once. He had understood Sir James to say that they must leave that night.
Mr. Morris hurried out to see to the packing.
In five minutes the gentlemen themselves appeared.
Sir James came quickly across to the two monks.
"We must go to-night, Chris," he said. "We had words with Portinari. You must not remain longer in the town."
Chris looked at him.
"Yes?" he said.
"And the chapels will be down immediately. Oh! dear G.o.d!"
Dom Anthony made room for the old man to sit down in the window-seat; and himself stood behind the two with Nicholas; and so again they watched.
The light was fading fast now, and in the windows below lights were beginning to shine. The square western tower that dominated the whole priory had lost its splendour, and stood up strong and pale against the meadows. There was a red flare of light somewhere over the wall of the court, and the inner side of the gate-turret was illuminated by it.
A tense excitement lay on the watchers; and no sound came from them but that of quick breathing as they waited for what they knew was imminent.
Outside the evening was wonderfully still; they could hear two men talking somewhere in the street below; but from the priory came no sound. The c.h.i.n.k of the picks was still, and the cries of the workmen.
Far away beyond the castle on their left came an insistent barking of a dog; and once, when a horseman rode by below Chris bit his lip with vexation, for it seemed to him like the disturbing of a death bed. A star or two looked out, vanished, and peeped again from the luminous sky, to the south, and the downs beneath were grey and hazy.
All the watchers now had their eyes on the eastern end of the church that lay in dim shadow; they could see the roof of the vault behind where the high altar lay beneath; the flying b.u.t.tress of a chapel below; and, nearer, the low roof of the Lady-chapel.
Chris kept his eyes strained on the upper vault, for there, he knew the first movement would show itself.
The time seemed interminable. He moistened his dry lips from time to time, shifted his position a little, and moved his elbow from the sharp moulding of the window-frame.
Then he caught his breath.
From where he sat, in the direct line of his eyes, the top of a patch of evergreen copse was visible just beyond the roof of the vault; and as he looked he saw that a patch of paler green had appeared below it. All in a moment he saw too the flying b.u.t.tress crook itself like an elbow and disappear. Then the vault was gone and the roof beyond; the walls sank with incredible slowness and vanished.
A cloud of white dust puffed up like smoke.
Then through the open window came the roar of the tumbling masonry; and shrill above it the clamour of a great crowd.
BOOK III
THE KING"S GRAt.i.tUDE
CHAPTER I
A SCHEME
The period that followed the destruction of Lewes Priory held very strange months for Chris. He had slipped out of the stream into a back-water, from which he could watch the swift movements of the time, while himself undisturbed by them; for no further notice was taken of his refusal to sign the surrender or of his resistance to the Commissioners. The hands of the authorities were so full of business that apparently it was not worth their while to trouble about an inoffensive monk of no particular notoriety, who after all had done little except in a negative way, and who appeared now to acquiesce in silence and seclusion.
The household at Overfield was of a very mixed nature. Dom Anthony after a month or two had left for the Continent to take up his vocation in a Benedictine house; and Sir James and his wife, Chris, Margaret, and Mr.
Carleton remained together. For the present Chris and Margaret were determined to wait, for a hundred things might intervene--Henry"s death, a changing of his mind, a foreign invasion on the part of the Catholic powers, an internal revolt in England, and such things--and set the clock back again, and, unlike Dom Anthony, they had a home where they could follow their Rules in tolerable comfort.
The country was indeed very deeply stirred by the events that were taking place; but for the present, partly from terror and partly from the great forces that were brought to bear upon English convictions, it gave no expression to its emotion. The methods that Cromwell had employed with such skill in the past were still active. On the worldly side there was held out to the people the hope of relieved taxation, of the distribution of monastic wealth and lands; on the spiritual side the bishops under Cranmer were zealous in controverting the old principles and throwing doubt upon the authority of the Pope. It was impossible for the unlearned to know what to believe; new manifestoes were issued continually by the King and clergy, full of learned arguments and persuasive appeals; and the professors of the old religion were continually discredited by accusations of fraud, avarice, immorality, hypocrisy and the like. They were silenced, too; while active and eloquent preachers like Latimer raged from pulpit to pulpit, denouncing, expounding, convincing.
Meanwhile the work went on rapidly. The summer and autumn of "38 saw again destruction after destruction of Religious Houses and objects of veneration; and the intimidation of the most influential personages on the Catholic side.
In February, for example, the rood of Boxley was brought up to London with every indignity, and after being exhibited with shouts of laughter at Whitehall, and preached against at Paul"s Cross, it was tossed down among the zealous citizens and smashed to pieces. In the summer, among others, the shrine of St. Swithun at Winchester was defaced and robbed; and in the autumn that followed the friaries which had stood out so long began to fall right and left. In October the Holy Blood of Hayles, a relic brought from the East in the thirteenth century and preserved with great love and honour ever since, was taken from its resting place and exposed to ridicule in London. Finally in the same month, after St.
Thomas of Canterbury had been solemnly declared a traitor to his prince, his name, images and pictures ordered to be erased and destroyed out of every book, window and wall, and he himself summoned with grotesque solemnity to answer the charges brought against him, his relics were seized and burned, and--which was more to the point in the King"s view, his shrine was stripped of its gold and jewels and vestments, which were conveyed in a string of twenty-six carts to the King"s treasury. The following year events were yet more terrible. The few great houses that survived were one by one brought within reach of the King"s hand; and those that did not voluntarily surrender fell under the heavier penalties of attainder. Abbot Whiting of Glas...o...b..ry was sent up to London in September, and two months later suffered on Tor hill within sight of the monastery he had ruled so long and so justly; and on the same day the Abbot of Reading suffered too outside his own gateway. Six weeks afterwards Abbot Marshall, of Colchester, was also put to death.
It was a piteous life that devout persons led at this time; and few were more unhappy than the household at Overfield. It was the more miserable because Lady Torridon herself was so entirely out of sympathy with the others. While she was not often the actual bearer of ill news--for she had neither sufficient strenuousness nor opportunity for it--it was impossible to doubt that she enjoyed its arrival.
They were all together at supper one warm summer evening when a servant came in to announce that a monk of St. Swithun"s was asking hospitality.
Sir James glanced at his wife who sat with pa.s.sive downcast face; and then ordered the priest to be brought in.
He was a timid, tactless man who failed to grasp the situation, and when the wine and food had warmed his heart he began to talk a great deal too freely, taking it for granted that all there were in sympathy with him.
He addressed himself chiefly to Chris, who answered courteously; and described the sacking of the shrine at some length.
"He had already set aside our cross called Hierusalem," cried the monk, his weak face looking infinitely pathetic with its mingled sorrow and anger, "and two of our gold chalices, to take them with him when he went; and then with his knives and hammers, as the psalmist tells us, he hacked off the silver plates from the shrine. There was a fellow I knew very well--he had been to me to confession two days before--who held a candle and laughed. And then when all was done; and that was not till three o"clock in the morning, one of the smiths tested the metal and cried out that there was not one piece of true gold in it all. And Mr.
Pollard raged at us for it, and told us that our gold was as counterfeit as the rotten bones that we worshipped. But indeed there was plenty of gold; and the man lied; for it was a very rich shrine. G.o.d"s vengeance will fall on them for their lies and their robbery. Is it not so, mistress?"
Lady Torridon lifted her eyes and looked at him. Her husband hastened to interpose.
"Have you finished your wine, father?"
The monk seemed not to hear him; and his talk flowed on about the destruction of the high altar and the spoiling of the reredos, which had taken place on the following days; and as he talked he filled his Venetian gla.s.s more than once and drank it off; and his lantern face grew flushed and his eyes animated. Chris saw that his mother was watching the monk shrewdly and narrowly, and feared what might come. But it was unavoidable.