One Snowy Night Part 19

"I wish she wasn't my niece, I do!" said poor Isel. "Well, folks, come and get your supper."

Supper was over, and the trenchers sc.r.a.ped--for Isel lived in great gentility, seeing that she ate from wooden trenchers, and not on plates made of thick slices of bread--when a rap on the door heralded the visit of a very superior person. Long ago, when a young girl, Isel had been chamberer, or bower-woman, of a lady named Mildred de Hameldun; and she still received occasional visits from Mildred's daughter, whose name was Aliz or Elise de Norton. Next to the Countess of Oxford and her two daughters, Aliz de Norton was the chief lady in the city. Her father, Sir Robert de Hameldun, had been Seneschal of the Castle, and her husband, Sir Ording de Norton, was now filling a similar position. Yet the lofty t.i.tle of Lady was barely accorded to Aliz de Norton. At that time it was of extreme rarity; less used than in Saxon days, far less than at a subsequent date under the later Plantagenets. The only women who enjoyed it as of right were queens, wives of the king's sons, countesses, and baronesses: for at this period, the sole t.i.tles known to the peerage were those of baron and earl. Duke was still a sovereign t.i.tle, and entirely a foreign one. The epithet of Dame or Lady was also the prerogative of a few abbesses, who held the rank of baroness. Very commonly, however, it was applied to the daughters of the sovereign, to all abbesses, prioresses, and recluses, and to earls' daughters; but this was a matter rather of courtesy than of right. Beyond the general epithet of "my Lord," there was no definite t.i.tle of address even for the monarch. The appropriation of such terms as Grace, Highness, Excellence, Majesty, or Serenity, belongs to a much later date. Sir, however, was always restricted to knights; and Dame was the most respectful form of address that could be offered to any woman, however exalted might be her rank. The knight was above the peer, even kings receiving additional honour from knighthood; but the equivalent t.i.tle of Dame does not seem to have been regularly conferred on their wives till about 1230, though it might be given in some cases, as a matter of courtesy, at a rather earlier period.

Perceiving her exalted friend, Isel went forward as quickly as was in her, to receive her with all possible cordiality, and to usher her to the best place in the chimney-corner. Aliz greeted the family pleasantly, but with a shade of constraint towards their German guests.

For a few minutes they talked conventional nothings, as is the custom of those who meet only occasionally. Then Aliz said--

"I came to-day, Isel, for two reasons. Have here the first: do you know of any vacant situation for a young woman?"

Isel could do nothing in a hurry,--more especially if any mental process was involved.

"Well, maybe I might," she said slowly. "Who is it, I pray you, and what are her qualifications?"

"It is the daughter of my waiting-woman, and grand-daughter of my old nurse. She is a good girl--rather shy and inexperienced, but she learns quickly. I would have taken her into my own household, but I have no room for her. I wish to find her a good place, not a poor one. Do you know of any?"

As Isel hesitated, Haimet took up the word.

"Would it please you to have her an anchorhold maid?"

"Oh, if she could obtain such a situation as that," said Aliz eagerly, "there would be no more to wish for."

The holiness of an anchoritess was deemed to run over upon her maid, and a young woman who wore the semi-conventual garb of those persons was safe from insult, and sure of help in time of need.

"My youngest sister goes into Saint John's anchorhold next month," said Haimet, "and we have not yet procured a maid for her."

"So that is your destiny?" said Aliz, with a smile to Derette. "Well, it is a blessed calling."

Her manner, however, added that she had no particular desire to be blessed in that fas.h.i.+on.

"That would be the very thing for Leuesa," she pursued. "I will send her down to talk with you. Truly, we should be very thankful to those choice souls to whom is given the rare virtue of such holy self-sacrifice."

Aliz spoke the feeling of her day, which could see no bliss for a woman except in marriage, and set single life on a pinnacle of holiness and misery not to be reached by ordinary men and women. The virtues of those self-denying people who sacrificed themselves by adopting it were supposed to be paid into an ecclesiastical treasury, and to form a kind of set-off against the every-day shortcomings of inferior married folks.

Therefore Aliz expressed her grat.i.tude for the prospect, as affording her an extra opportunity of doing her duty by proxy.

Derette was in advance of her age.

"But I am not sacrificing myself," she said. "I am pleasing myself. I should not like to be a wife."

"Oh, what a saintly creature you must be!" cried Aliz, clasping her hands in admiration. "That you can _prefer_ a holy life! It is given to few indeed to attain that height."

"But the holy life does not consist in dwelling in one chamber,"

suggested Gerhardt, "nor in refraining from matrimony. He that dwelleth in G.o.d, in the secret place of the Most High--this is the man that is holy."

"It would be well for you, Gerard, and your friends," observed Aliz freezingly, "not to be quite so ready in offering your strange fancies on religious topics. Are you aware that the priests of the city have sent up a memorial concerning you to my Lord the Bishop, and that it has been laid before King Henry?"

The strawberry which Gerhardt's tool was just then rounding was not quite so perfect a round as its neighbours. He laid the tool down, and the hand which held the carving trembled slightly.

"No, I did not know it," he said in a low voice. "I thank you for the warning."

"I fear there may be some penance inflicted on you," resumed Aliz, not unkindly. "The wisest course for you would be at once to submit, and not even to attempt any excuse."

Gerhardt looked up--a look which struck all who saw it. There was in it a little surface trouble, but under that a look of such perfect peace and sweet acceptance of the Divine will, as they had never before beheld.

"There will be no penance laid on me," he said, "that my Father will not help me to bear. I have only to take the next step, whether it lead into the home at Bethany or the judgment-hall of Pilate. The Garden of G.o.d lies beyond them both."

Aliz looked at him as if he were speaking a foreign tongue.

"Gerard," she said, "I do hope you have no foolish ideas of braving out the censure of the Bishop. Such action would not only be sin, but it would be the worst policy imaginable. Holy Church is always merciful to those who abase themselves before her,--who own their folly, and humbly bow to her rebuke. But she has no mercy on rebels who persist in their rebellion,--stubborn self-opinionated men, who in their incredible folly and presumption imagine themselves capable of correcting her."

"No," answered Gerhardt in that same low voice. "She has no mercy."

"Then I hope you see how very foolish and impossible it would be for you to adopt any other course than that of instant and complete submission?"

urged Aliz in a kinder tone.

Gerhardt rose from his seat and faced her.

"Your meaning is kind," he said, "and conscientious also. You desire the glory of your Church, but you also feel pity for the suffering of the human creatures who dissent from her, and are crushed under the wheels of her triumphal car. I thank you for that pity. In the land where one cup of cold water goeth not without its reward, it may be that even a pa.s.sing impulse of compa.s.sion is not forgotten before G.o.d. It may at least call down some earthly blessing. But for me--my way is clear before me, and I have but to go straight forward. I thank G.o.d that I know my duty. Doubt is worse than pain."

"Indeed, I am thankful too," said Aliz, as she rose to take leave.

"That you should do your duty is the thing I desire.--Well, Isel, our Lady keep you! I will send Leuesa down to-morrow or the next day."

Aliz departed, and the rest began to think of bedtime. Isel sent the girls upstairs, then Haimet followed, and Agnes went at last. But Gerhardt sat on, his eyes fixed on the cold hearth. It was evident that he regarded the news which he had heard as of no slight import. He rose at length, and walked to the window. It was only a wooden shutter, fastened by a b.u.t.ton, and now closed for the night. Looking round to make sure that all had left the lower room, he threw the cas.e.m.e.nt open.

But he did not see Isel, who at the moment was concealed by the red curtain drawn half-way across the house-place, at the other end where the ladder went up.

"Father!" he said, his eyes fixed on the darkened sky, "is the way to Thy holy hill through this th.o.r.n.y path? Wheresoever Thou shalt guide, I go with Thee. But 'these are in the world!' Keep them through Thy name, and let us meet in the Garden of G.o.d, if we may not go together.

O blessed Jesu Christ! the forget-me-nots which bloom around Thy cross are fairer than all the flowers of the world's gardens."

Note 1. In the medieval mystery plays, Noah's wife was always represented as a scolding vixen.

CHAPTER SIX.

TAKEN IN THE NET.

"There is no time so miserable But a man may be true."

Shakespeare.

"Berthold, hast thou heard the news?"

"I have, Pastor. I was coming to ask if you had heard it."

"Ah, it was told me last night, by one that meant it kindly. I knew it would come sooner or later."

"What will they do, think you?" Gerhardt hesitated. It was not so easy to guess in 1165 the awful depths to which religious hatred could descend, as it would have been some two centuries later. They knew something then of the fury of the Church against open unbelievers or political enemies; but persecution of Christians by Christians on account of nothing but their belief and the confession of it, was something new at that time.