A. D. Crake

“ If thou hast for a while lost a mother, thou hast found a father.”
The boy sighed. Affection is not so easily transferred; and the earl quite comprehended that sigh; as a strange interest, almost unaccountable, he thought, sprang up in his manly breast for the little nestling, thrown so strangely upon his protection and care.
Brave as a lion with the proud, gentle as a lamb with the weak and defenceless, such was Simon de Montfort, an embodiment of true greatness—the union of strength with love. Both Martin and Hubert were fortunate in their new lord. ”

“ In the dead hour of the night Hubert alone awoke, with the consciousness that someone was gazing upon him. He looked up. There was the figure which had so often tormented his poor father, the slain Frenchman, the last Sieur de Fievrault, pale and gory, his hand on the wound in his side.
“Speak, dread phantom! What dost thou want with me? I go to do thy bidding, to fulfil thy vow.”
“Thank God! Thou hast spoken, and I may speak, too. Thou goest to do my bidding in love for thy father, to fulfil my vow. Alas, many trials await thee. Canst thou face them?”
“I can do all man can do.” ”

“ I seek a more continuing city than either Walderne or Michelham, and I want no earthly dignities. Wherever God gives me souls to tend is my home; and He has given it me, O men of the Andredsweald, amongst my countrymen and my kindred, and to Hubert I leave the castle right gladly. Now let there be peace, and let men turn their swords into ploughshares and their spears into pruning hooks, and hasten the glorious day when the kingdoms of this world shall become the kingdoms of God and His Christ. ”

“ Nightfall—night hung like a pall over the island, over the moat, over the silent heath and woods; the snow kept falling, falling; the fires kept blazing in the huge hearths; and the bell kept tolling until curfew time, by the prior’s order, that if any were lost in the wild night they might be guided by its sound to shelter.
The earl slept soundly in his little monastic cell that night, and in the morning he perceived the light of a bright dawn through the narrow window; anon the winter’s sun rose, all glorious, and the frost and snow sparkled like the sheen of diamonds in its beams. ”

“ Nay, Drogo, thou canst not frighten me. I am not in thy power. Thou canst not tame the spirit. Do thy worst, I wait God’s hour.”
Drogo was beside himself by rage at this language on the part of a captive, and he would have struck him down on the spot but for something in Martin that awed him, even as the keeper, who calls himself the lion king, tames the lion.
“We shall see,” he said, and left the cell.
“My lord, do not harm him,” said the man. “If a hand be laid upon him the men-at-arms will rebel. They fear that it will bring a curse upon them.” ”

“ The watcher on the walls of Walderne Castle sees the sun sink beneath the distant downs, flooding Mount Caburn and his kindred giants with crimson light. In the great hall supper is preparing. See them all trooping in—retainers, fighting men, serving men, all taking their places at the boards placed at right angles to the high table, where the seats of Sir Nicholas de Harengod and his lady are to be seen.
He enters: a bluff stern warrior, in his undress, that is, without his panoply of armour and arms, in the long flowing robe affected by his Norman kindred at the festal board. ”

“ I love the good work. God give the increase.”
“What Martin, my Martin, thou here? I have followed thee. I heard thee, but couldn’t get near thee for the press,” cried an exultant voice.
“My Hubert, so thou art a knight at last?”
“Yes, and tomorrow I go to Walderne to say goodbye to the people there, and the next day take ship from Pevensey for Harfleur, on my road to the Holy Land.
“But how pale thou art! Come, tell me all. Art thou a brother yet? Hast thou earned it by some pious deed, as I earned my knighthood by a warlike one? Come, tell me all, dear Martin.” ”

“ Altogether of a different mould was the bright joyous son of an ill-fated father; Hubert, son of Roger of Icklesham and Walderne. A boy, a typical boy, a brave free-hearted noble one:
With his unchecked, unbidden joy,
His dread of books, and love of fun.
He was rapidly acquiring ease and dexterity in all the sports of the tilt yard; the quintain had now no terrors for him, and he was quite at home on horseback already. Naturally he was rising fast in favour with his fellows, the only lad who seemed to stand aloof from him being Drogo de Harengod. ”

“ Then their loud cries brought the household upstairs, Martin, Drogo, and all; and the truth forced itself upon them. She slept that sleep:
Which men call death.
Shall we describe the grief of the household? Nay, we forbear. All the retainers: all the neighbourhood, followed her to the tomb. Martin stood by the open grave; his head bowed in grief; he loved to comfort others, but felt much in need of a consoler himself.
Blessed are they which die in the Lord,
for they rest from their labours. ”

“ Ralph spoke first—he felt that courageous avowal of the truth was the only course.
“My prince,” he said, “we must indeed avow that our convictions are with the free barons of England, and that with them we must stand or fall. If to share their sentiments is rebellion, rebels we are, but we disclaim the word.”
“And thou, Sir Mayor?”
“I am but the mouthpiece of my fellow citizens. I have no freewill to choose.”
“And thou, friar of orders grey?”
“Like all my brethren, I hold the cause of the Earl of Leicester just,” said Martin quietly. ”

“ But to Martin the mysterious soothing music of the mass, like strains from another world, so unlike earthly tunes, came like a new sense, an inspiration from an unknown realm, and brought the unbidden tears to his young eyes.
It must not be supposed that he was totally ignorant of the elements of religion; even the wild inhabitants of the forest crave some form of approach to God, and from time to time a wandering priest, an outlaw himself of English birth, ministered to the “merrie men” at a rustic altar, generally in the open air or in a well-known cavern. ”

“ The following morning, overcome by the emotions of the preceding day, Martin slept long. He was dreaming of the battle of Senlac, where he was heading a charge, when he awoke to find that the sounds of real present strife had put Senlac into his head.
He sat upright, a confused dream of fighting and struggling still lingering in his distracted mind. No, it was no dream; he heard the actual cry of those who strove for mastery: the exulting yell:
“Englishmen, on! down, ye French tyrants!”
“Out! out! ye English thieves!” ”

“ And Martin was brought to him.
“Sit down, my young brother,” said Prior Roger, “and tell me where I have seen thy face before. I have gazed upon thee all through the frugal meal of which we have just partaken, for thy face is like a face I have seen in a dream. Not that I doubt that thou art here in flesh and blood, unlike the fiends of Croyland, of whom we have just heard.” ”

“ Martin! I have always hated thee, both at Kenilworth and Walderne. Revenge is a morsel fit for the gods.”
“What hast thou to revenge?”
“Didst thou not plot to oust me of mine inheritance, the night before the doting old woman died up above? It cost her her life.”
“For which thou must answer to God.”
“Nay, thine hand, not mine, administered it. Ha! ha! ha!”
“And what dost thou seek of me now?”
“Nothing, save the joy of removing an enemy out of my path.”
“I am no man’s enemy.”
“Yes, thou art mine, and always hast been. ”

“ So sickening a dread, yet quite an inexplicable one, a dread of the vague unknown, came upon them that, brave men as they were, they could not proceed to the wood pile, and, like Tristam, returned empty handed.
“Where is the wood?” was the general cry.
“Let no one go out for wood tonight,” said Hubert. “We must break up the forms, the floors, nay, our dining board, to sustain the fire—for fire we must have. Now, remember we are warriors of the Cross, pledged to a holy cause, and that no demon can hurt us if we are true to ourselves. ”

“ What a glorious view as we look across the eddying, billowy tree tops of the forest to the deep blue sea, sixteen miles distant, studded with the white sails of many barks which have put out from land, lest they should be seized by the approaching host, and confiscated for the royal service, for the sailors have mainly espoused the popular cause, and dread the medieval press gang. How many familiar objects we see around—Michelham Priory, Battle Abbey, Wilmington Priory, Pevensey Castle, Lewes Castle—all in view. ”

“ To many such hatred only comes after years have brought satiety; to thee, my dear child, one night seems to have brought it.”
“Yes, now I am clothed, and in my right mind, like the lunatic who had been cutting himself with stones. But, my father, take me in, I cannot trust myself out of the shelter of the priory.”
“Then thou art not fit to enter it, for we want men whom we may send out into the world without fear. No! the first vacant cell shall be thine, but I will not hasten the time by a day. Thou must prove thy vocation, and then thou mayst join the brotherhood of sweet Saint Francis.” ”

“ The problem is too hard for me. God will make it clear.”
“My father,” said Martin, “I, too, am the descendant of a long line of warriors, who have never before me submitted to the foreign yoke. But I see that the two peoples are becoming one: that the sons of the Norman learn our English tongue, and that the day is at hand when they will be proud of the name ‘Englishmen.’ Norman and Saxon all alike, one people, even as in heaven there is no distinction of race, but all are alike before the throne.”
“And now, my son, art thou not a priest yet? I would fain make confession of my sins.” ”

“ Enter thou into the joy of the Lord”? And were they doing this? Were they repaying the love of Calvary, as for instance the saints of that day, Saints Philip and James, had done; giving heart for heart, love for love; or were they worshipping dread and ghastly idols, their own lusts and passions? In short, were they to be companions of the angels—God’s holy ones? Or the slaves and sport of the cruel and fiery fiends for evermore?
The power of an orator, and Martin was a born orator, over the men of the middle ages was marvellous. Few could read, and books were scarce as jewels. ”

“ What do ye here in the woods which free Englishmen claim as their own?”
A shaggy form, a bull-like individual, stood above them. The young knight gazed upon his interlocutor with a comic eye.
“Why, I am Ralph of Herstmonceux, an unworthy aspirant to the honours of chivalry, and conceive I have full right to hunt in the Andredsweald without asking leave of any king of the vagabonds and outlaws, such as I conceive thee to be.”
“Cease thy foolery, thou Norman magpie.
“Throw down your arms, all of you. Our bows are bent; you are in our power. You are covered, one and all, by our aim.” ”

“ And to Hubert he said one day:
“This hardly represents your best work, my son, you did better even yesterday.”
Hubert tossed his head.
“Martin cares only for books—I want to learn better things; he may be a monk, I will be a soldier.”
“And dost thou know,” said a deep voice, “what is the first duty of a soldier?”
It was the stern figure of the earl who stood unobserved in the doorway of the library.
Hubert hung his head.
“Obedience!”
“And know this,” added the speaker, “that learning distinguishes the man from the brute, as religion distinguishes him from the devil.” ”

“ A sense of mystery daunted his spirit as he followed his sire by the light of a feeble lamp, carried in the hand, amidst the tall columns which rose like tree trunks around, each shaft appearing to rise farther than the sight could penetrate, ere it gave birth to the arch from its summit. Dead crusaders lay around in stone, and strove with grim visage to draw the sword and smite the worshippers of Mohammed, as if in the very act they had been petrified by a new Gorgon’s head. ”