But the chaplain of Rivoli was suddenly aroused from his inactivity by a shrill voice.
"How is this, sluggard?" cried the angry steward; "the stable is not swept yet, everything is out of place, and the horses of His Majesty and the Court will be here directly!"
"I don't care," answered Rainulph; "the manure may stay there; I shall not touch it!"
The steward could not believe his ears. The conduct of the formerly submissive chaplain seemed inexplicable.
"Are you mad? Have you not done that work a hundred times?"
"Yes, and more too! You have made me do the most menial drudgery, and I have complained in vain; but it is different to-day."
"I suppose that you hardly intend to appeal to the Emperor?" sneered the other. "You will make a fine thing of it. Don't you know, fool, that the Pope and the bishops are as much the servants of the Emperor as the chaplains are of the Castellan? I tell you it is the custom!"
"It is a bad custom, an impious custom! Priests were not ordained to clean out stables, but to discharge their sacred calling."
"Ah! what a noble transport! Wait a minute, till I teach you your duty!"
At that moment a horseman dashed up, and announced that the prelates were close at hand. The steward raised his eyes to heaven, tore his hair, ordered the chaplain to be locked up in one of the towers, and, entering the castle, mounted upon a turret.