The abbat’s feast, which began at one hour before noon, did not end until the hour of Ave Maria; nay, even then it was not finished, but only suspended for a short season by the evening service in the choir; for, after one hour of the night, the refectoriarius, or controller of the refectory, re-appeared in the hall with waxen torches and bright lanterns, and his servitors spread the table for supper.
As Abbat Thurstan returned to the refectory, leading by the hand his guest the Abbat of Crowland, that dispossessed prelate said to his host, “Tonight for finishing the feast; to-morrow morning for counsel.”
“Aye,” responded Thurstan, “to-morrow we will hold a chapter,—our business can brook no further delay—our scouts and intelligencers bring us bad news,—King Harold comes not, nor sends—the Camp of Refuge needs a head—our warriors want a leader of fame and experience, and one that will be true to the Saxon cause, and fearless. Woe the while! where so many Saxons of fame have proved traitors, and have touched the mailed hand of the son of the harlot of Falaise in friendship and submission, and have accepted as the gift of the butcher of Hastings the lands and honours which they held from their ancestors and the best of Saxon kings—where, I say, may we look for such a Saxon patriot and liberator? Oh, Harold! my lord and king, why tarriest thou? Holy Etheldreda, bring him back to thy shrine, and to the Camp of Refuge, which will cease to be a refuge for thy servants if Harold cometh not soon! But, courage my Lord of Crowland! The Philistines are not upon us; our rivers and ditches and marshes and meres are not yet drained, and no Saxon in these parts will prove so accursed a traitor[[88]] as to give the Normans the clue to our labyrinths. The saint hath provided another joyous meal for us. Let us be grateful and gay to-night; let us sup well and strongly, that we may be invigorated and made fit to take strong and wise counsel in the morning.”
And heartily did the monks of Ely and their guests renew and finish their feast, and hopefully and boldly did they speak of wars and victories over the Normans, until the drowsiness of much wine overcame them, and the sub-chamberlain of the house began to extinguish the lights, and collect together the torches and the lanterns, while the cellarer collected all the spoons, taking care to carry the Lord Abbat’s spoon in his right hand, and the spoons of the monks in his left hand, according to the statutes of the Order. It was the last time that the feast of Saint Edmund the Martyr was kept in the true Saxon manner in the great house at Ely. The next year, and the year following that, the monks had little wine and but little ale to drink; and after the long years of trouble although the cellars were getting filled again, the true old Saxon brotherhood was broken up and mixed, a foreigner was seated in the place of Abbat Thurstan,[[89]] and monks with mis-shaven tonsures and mis-shaped hoods and gowns filled all the superior offices of the abbey, purloining and sending beyond sea what my Lord Thurstan had spent in a generous hospitality, among true-born and generous-hearted Englishmen. But in this nether world even the gifts of saints and the chartered donation of many kings are to be kept only by the brave and the united: conquest recognises no right except as a mockery: the conquered must not expect to be allowed to call their life and limbs their own, or the air they breathe their own, or their wives and children their own, or their souls their own: they have no property but in the grave, no right but to die at the hour appointed for them. Therefore let men perish in battle rather than outlive subjugation, and look for mercy from conquerors! and, therefore, let all the nations of the earth be warned by the fate of the Anglo Saxons to be always one-hearted for their country.
This patriotic and eloquent appeal may be very appropriately reiterated at the present day. The sentiment which it inculcates is as essential now as it was when the Saxons were defending the “Camp of Refuge.” Is it not consolidation rather than extension which is needed for the well being of our country? Will not the future greatness of our nation hinge upon the development of the highest principles of humanity—the unity, loyalty and virtue of its peoples?
CHAPTER V.
THE MONKS OF ELY TAKE COUNSEL.
At as early an hour as the church services and devotional exercises would allow, Thurstan opened a chapter in the chapter-house, which stood on the north side, hard by the chief gate of the church. As his lordship entered, he said—the words that were appointed to be said on such occasions—“May the souls of all the deceased brethren of this house, and the souls of all true believers, rest in peace!” And the convent replied, “Amen!” Then the Lord Abbat spoke again, and said, “Benedicite,” and the convent bowed their heads. And next he said, “Oh Lord! in thy name!” and then, “Let us speak of the order.” And hereupon all present crossed themselves, and bent their heads on their breasts, and the business of the chapter commenced. Only the prior, the sub-prior, the cellarer or bursar, the sacrist, and sub-sacrist, the chamberlain or treasurer, and the other chief officials or obedientiarii, and the other cloistered monks, maturi fratres, whose noviciate had been long passed, and whose monastic vows had been all completed, had the right of being present in chapter, and of deliberating and voting upon the business of the house and order. All that passed in chapter was, in a manner, sub sigillo confessionis, and not to be disclosed by any deliberating member to the rest of the convent, or to any of them, and much less was it to be revealed to any layman, or to any man beyond the precincts of the abbey. In these consultations, on the day next after the festival of Saint Edmund’s, the monks of Ely sat long with closed doors. When they came forth of the chapter-house it was noticed that the face of the Lord Abbat was very red, and that the faces of the prior and cellarer were very pale. A lay-brother, who had been working on the top of the chapter-house out-side, repairing some chinks in the roof, whispered to his familiars that he had heard very high words passing below, and that he had distinctly heard my Lord Abbat say, “Since the day of my election and investiture no brother of this house has been loaded with chains, and thrown into the underground dungeon; but, by the shrine of Saint Etheldreda, were I to find one traitor among us, I would bind him and chain him, and leave him to rot! And were there two of our brotherhood unfaithful to the good cause, and to King Harold, and plotting to betray the last hopes of England and this goodly house, and its tombs and shrines and blessed relics, to the Norman, I would do what hath been done aforetime in this abbey—I would bury them alive, or build them up in the niches left in our deep foundation walls!”[[90]]
Now the gossips of the house, making much out of little, went about the cloisters whispering to one another that some sudden danger was at hand, and that my Lord Abbat suspected the prior and the cellarer of some secret correspondence with the Norman knights that garrisoned Duke William’s castle near unto Cam-Bridge.
“If it be so,” said Elfric, the novice from Spalding, “I would advise every true Saxon monk, novice, and lay-brother, to keep their eyes upon the cellarer and the prior!”