‘You do not think so?’ asked Philammon bluntly.

‘You are young, you are young. Wait a while till you have seen as much as I have. A degenerate age this, my son; not like the good old times, when men dare suffer and die for the faith. We are too prosperous nowadays; and fine ladies walk about with Magdalens embroidered on their silks, and gospels hanging round their necks. When I was young they died for that with which they now bedizen themselves.’

‘But I was speaking of the parabolani.’

‘Ah, there are a great many among them who have not much business where they are. Don’t say I said so. But many a rich man puts his name on the list of the guild just to get his exemption from taxes, and leaves the work to poor men like you. Rotten, rotten! my son, and you will find it out. The preachers, now—people used to say—I know Abbot Isidore did—that I had as good a gift for expounding as any man in Pelusium; but since I came here, eleven years since, if you will believe it, I have never been asked to preach in my own parish church.’

‘You surely jest!’

‘True, as I am a christened man. I know why—I know why: they are afraid of Isidore’s men here.... Perhaps they may have caught the holy man’s trick of plain speaking—and ears are dainty in Alexandria. And there are some in these parts, too, that have never forgiven him the part he took about those three villains, Marc, Zosimus, and Martinian, and a certain letter that came of it; or another letter either, which we know of, about taking alms for the church from the gains of robbers and usurers. “Cyril never forgets.” So he says to every one who does him a good turn.... And so he does to every one who he fancies has done him a bad one. So here am I slaving away, a subordinate priest, while such fellows as Peter the Reader look down on me as their slave. But it’s always so. There never was a bishop yet, except the blessed Augustine—would to Heaven I had taken my abbot’s advice, and gone to him at Hippo!—who had not his flatterers and his tale-bearers, and generally the archdeacon at the head of them, ready to step into the bishop’s place when he dies, over the heads of hard-working parish priests. But that is the way of the world. The sleekest and the oiliest, and the noisiest; the man who can bring in most money to the charities, never mind whence or how; the man who will take most of the bishop’s work off his hands, and agree with him in everything he wants, and save him, by spying and eavesdropping, the trouble of using his own eyes; that is the man to succeed in Alexandria, or Constantinople, or Rome itself. Look now; there are but seven deacons to this great city, and all its priests; and they and the archdeacon are the masters of it and us. They and that Peter manage Cyril’s work for him, and when Cyril makes the archdeacon a bishop, he will make Peter archdeacon....They have their reward, they have their reward; and so has Cyril, for that matter.’

‘How?’

‘Why, don’t say I said it. But what do I care? I have nothing to lose, I’m sure. But they do say that there are two ways of promotion in Alexandria: one by deserving it, the other by paying for it. That’s all.’

‘Impossible!’

‘Oh, of course, quite impossible. But all I know is just this, that when that fellow Martinian got back again into Pelusium, after being turned out by the late bishop for a rogue and hypocrite as he was, and got the ear of this present bishop, and was appointed his steward, and ordained priest—I’d as soon have ordained that street-dog—and plundered him and brought him to disgrace—for I don’t believe this bishop is a bad man, but those who use rogues must expect to be called rogues—and ground the poor to the earth, and tyrannised over the whole city so that no man’s property, or reputation, scarcely their lives, were safe; and after all, had the impudence, when he was called on for his accounts, to bring the church in as owing him money; I just know this, that he added to all his other shamelessness this, that he offered the patriarch a large sum of money to buy a bishopric of him.... And what do you think the patriarch answered?’