The servers now brought in supper. It was a vigil, and therefore meat, eggs, and butter were forbidden; but luxury, apart from these, being unforbidden to such as preferred the letter to the spirit, the meal was sufficiently appetising, notwithstanding this. Beside some fishes whose names are inscrutable, our ancestors at this time ate nearly all we habitually use, and in addition, whelks, porpoises, and lampreys. There were soups made of apples, figs, beans, peas, gourds, rice, and wheat. Fish pies and fruit pies, jellies, honey cakes and tarts, biscuits of all descriptions, including maccaroons and gingerbread, vegetables far more numerous than we use, salads, cucumbers, melons, and all fruits in season, puddings of semolina, millet, and rice, almonds, spices, pickles—went to make up a menu by no means despicable.
Supper was half over when Sir Godfrey bethought himself of Perrote’s appeal and suggestion.
“Pray you, holy Father,” said he, “have you in your abbey at this season any of them called the poor priests, or know you where they may be found?”
The Abbot’s lips took such a setting as rather alarmed his host, who began to wish his question unasked.
“I pray you of pardon if I ask unwisely,” he hastily added. “I had thought these men were somewhat in good favour in high place at this time, and though I desire not at all to—”
“Wheresoever is my Lady Princess, there shall the poor priests find favour,” said the Abbot, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. “The King, too, is not ill-affected toward them. But I forewarn you, my son, that they be not over well liked of the Church and the dignitaries thereof. They go about setting men by the ears, bringing down to the minds of the commoner sort high matters that are not meet for such to handle, and inciting them to chatter and gabble over holy things in unseemly wise. Whereso they preach, ’tis said, the very women will leave their distaffs, and begin to talk of sacred matter—most unbecoming and scandalous it is! I avise you, my son, to have none ado with such, and to keep to the wholesome direction of your own priest, which shall be far more to your profit.”
“I cry you mercy, reverend Father! Truly it was not of mine own motion that I asked the same. ’Twas a woman did excite me thereto, seeing—”
“That may I well believe,” said the Abbot, contemptuously. “Women be ever at the bottom of every ill thing under the sun.”
Poor man! he knew nothing about them. How could he, when he was taught that they were unclean creatures with whom it was defilement to converse? And he could not remember his mother—the one womanly memory which might have saved him from the delusion.
Sir Godfrey, in his earnest anxiety to get out of the scrape into which Perrote had brought him, hastily introduced a fresh topic as the easiest means of doing so.