To the south-west of the village of Cholsey (Chelseye) the Berkshire downs sink into the level plain of the valley of the Thames. Here, therefore, there was that broken ground which always accompanies the transition from a higher to a lower level, and several spurs of the higher ranges stretch out into the plain like peninsulas; while in other places solitary hills, like islands, which indeed they once were, stand apart from the mainland of hills.
One of these hill islands was thickly clothed with wood in those days, as indeed it is now. And to the north-west there lay a "moated grange."
A deep moat, fed by streams which arose hard by, enclosed half an acre or less of ground. This had been laid out as a "pleasaunce," and in the centre was placed a substantial house of stone, of ecclesiastical design. It was a country residence of the monks of Reading Abbey, where they sent sick brethren who needed change of air, to breathe the refreshing breezes which blow off the downs.
Such a general sense of insecurity, however, was felt all over the country by clericals and laics alike, that they dug this deep moat, and every night drew up their drawbridge, leaving the enclosure under the protection of huge and faithful mastiffs, who had been taught to reverence a monk's cassock at night, but to distrust all parties wearing lay attire, whether of mail or otherwise.
A level plain, between outlying spurs of the downs, lay to the west, partly grazing land, partly filled with the primeval forest, and boggy and dangerous in places. Here the cows of the abbey grazed, which supplied the convalescents with the milk so necessary in their cases; but every night each member of the "milky herd" was carefully housed inside the moat.
There was great preparation going on at the grange of Lollingdune, so called from its peculiar position at the foot of the hill. The Abbot of Reading, as we have elsewhere learned, was expected on the morrow. He was a mighty potentate; thrice honoured; had a seat in the great council of the kingdom; wore a mitre; was as great and grand as a bishop, and so was reverenced by all the lesser fry.
So the cooks were busy. The fatted calf was slain, several fowls had to pay the debt of nature, carp were in stew; various wines were broached—Malmsey, Osey, Sack, and such like; devices in pastry executed, notably a pigeon-pie, with a superincumbent mitre in pie-crust; and many kinds of sweets were curiously and wonderfully made.
At the close of the day sweet tinkling bells announced the approach of the cavalcade over the ridge of the hill to the eastward; and soon a dozen portly monks, mounted on sleek mules, with silver bells on their trappings, for they did not affect the warlike horse, and accompanied meetly by lay attendants, laden with furniture and provisions for the Abbot's comfort, approached by the "under-down" road, which led from the gorge of the Thames at Streatley. The whole community turned out to meet them, and there was such an assembly of dark robes that the bailiff of the farm jocosely called it "Rook-Fair."
"Pax vobiscum fratres omnes, clerici atque laici. I have come to repose my weary limbs amongst you, but by St. Martin the air of these downs is fresh, and will make us relish the venison pasty, or other humble fare we may receive for the sustenance of our flesh. How are all the invalids?"
"They be doing well," said Father Hieronymus, the senior of the monks at Lollingdune; "and say that the sight of their Abbot will be a most salutary medicament."