The parson of the neighboring church protested that it seemed hurtful to God and to Holy Church that offerings should be appropriated by any one except the parson within whose parish the chapel is found. Wherefore he prayed "for God and Holy Church and for the souls of our lord the King's father and his ancestors, that he may have the keeping of the said chapel annexed to his church, together with the charge of the bridge." And he further promised "that he will take heed with all care to maintain them well, for the profit and honor of Holy Church, to please God and all the people passing that way."
To this strange medley of the human and the divine the King made his usual cautious reply, "Ly roi s'avisera," for this Adam was not without powerful friends at court; and, before the matter was satisfactorily adjusted, there came along this bridge one day a short, rotund traveller who, although in pilgrim's garb, yet rode a most excellent mount. This fellow drew in his rein and looked in frank amazement at certain clear signs of repair which were going on about him.
"What then! by Our Lady, hath the old skinflint yonder of his own free will taken to yield some of the silver from his maw, or hath he been forced to?"
"Nay," replied one of the laborers, pausing for an instant in the placing of a heavy stone, "Nay, trust Adam Fenere not to give up aught of what is once between his fingers; nay, 'tis him yonder that did set us all working, 'tis him yonder."
The pilgrim looked in the direction indicated, and was surprised to see a poor priest, of delicate build and saintly aspect, of the kind that attracts women to the bosom of the Church (or, as this fellow Stott was accustomed to put it, to the bosom of the Churchman), who yet was directing the work of repair with great vigor, even carrying and placing stones that seemed all too heavy for his strength.
"H'm, h'm," murmured the pilgrim to himself. "Seems better fitted to be a boudoir saint than a builder of bridges."
"Good morrow," he cried to the poor priest, who now looked up wearily from his task, pressing a lean hand to his brow, "good morrow! How comes it, Sir Russet-priest, that I find you doing this work? Surely those hands have been accustomed rather to the turning of the pages of a breviary than to the placing of stones."
The young poor priest flushed deeply, and there shot from his eyes that flash which in certain men is more compelling than the flash of steel; yet he answered quietly, "I do the work of my Master, wheresoever it leads me."
"And do you hold the building of bridges in greater repute than the saying of Aves, or is it mayhap that you wish to become a famous pontiff?" the fellow chuckled.