A Monk of Cruta

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

"We will race," Antonio answered, whose boat was the fastest. "The first to reach her shall have the stranger's money!"

"No, no! that is not fair," chorused the others. "We will draw lots!"

Then up rose old Guiseppe, the father of them all. He shook his head, and turned a sorrowing face seawards. "Peace! children. You are like chattering seabirds squabbling over a bait which will never be yours. Yonder ship will need no pilot! She is no stranger to Cruta!"

They looked at her, and shook their heads. "We have never seen her before," they said.

"Some of you are too young to remember her," the old man continued, "and you were all away when she was here within a twelvemonth ago! But I know her! Three times has she entered this harbour, and each time has she left sorrow and grief behind her. It is the ship of the English lord who stole away the daughter of our Count many years ago!"

There was a little murmur of suppressed wonder. Then, as though moved by a common instinct, every face was turned upward to the castle wall.

The Count had gone. But, even as they looked, he reappeared, leading another figure by the hand. They held their breath with wonder. No one had ever seen him there save alone, and now a woman stood by his side. They could see nothing of her, save her long hair flowing in the breeze, and the bare outline of her figure. "Who was she? Guiseppe must know! Who was she?" they asked him eagerly.

He shook his head. "Better not ask," he answered. "Better not know! Strange things have happened up there! It is not for us to chatter of them!"

"One night as I sailed homeward," Antonio said, in a low tone, "I heard strange cries from the castle. The night was still, and the breeze brought the sound to my ears. They came from up above, and when I strained my eyes I fancied that I could see a white figure—the figure of a woman—standing on the castle walls. She was crying for help, but suddenly, as though a hand were placed over her mouth, her cries ceased, and the figure vanished. It was three nights before the English lord died at the monastery!"