At the "Sign of the Golden Fleece"

by Emma Leslie

He made but a short stay at Greenwich this time, and was relieved when he got back to learn that everything had gone smoothly while he was away. Most of the monks, who had left the neighbourhood at the time of the suppression of the monastery, had strayed back to their old haunts during the previous winter, and had by degrees been forced into the ranks of the workers, in one capacity or the other; and it was how these grumblers might act during his absence that made Sir Miles anxious to return with as little delay as possible. He was relieved, therefore, to hear that his care and anxiety was quite needless, that the monks were beginning to learn that they were better off after all than many from other monasteries, who came begging; for here they were sure of employment by which they could earn sufficient to live upon, and Sir Miles considerately made their tasks as light as he could at first, that they might gradually learn, as his other tenants had done, that work was a blessing and not a curse.

There was, perhaps, another inducement for these idlers to apply themselves to the mastery of this work problem. Sir Miles had decided that the monastery lands should be devoted to the benefit of the brethren, as far as possible; and so, when a monk had proved himself a good servant and workman, he might rent a piece of the old farm land, and set up as a small farmer on his own account. Sir Miles did all he could to develop this ambition, and in several cases with marked success, but there were others who could not shake off the sloth that seemed to have crept into their very bones and brains, so that they would not try to do anything beyond their allotted tasks, and when they were accomplished they would lie down in any sheltered corner to sleep for the rest of the day.

Of course these, and the old and sick among the community, had to be kept near to Paton Hall itself, for some of the tenants, having learned the worth of work, were by no means disposed to be as merciful as their master. They would have forced these unwilling workers to do as much as the man who had learned to take a joy and delight in accomplishing a good, creditable piece of work, whether on the farm, or on the building of cottage or barn. For during the summer, work of both kinds went on with unabated energy; and now that the old monastery and its lands had come into Sir Miles' possession, there were more cottages and homesteads to be built, and the materials of which the old monastery had been constructed, or at least a good portion of them, were given by the Commissioners to build these scattered homesteads for the new farmers and yeomen.

Sir Miles quite intended to pay his promised visit to Greenwich the following year, but the only time he could conveniently leave home the following summer Lady Paton was very ill, and her illness continued so long that all thought of such a journey had to be abandoned. So messengers were sent to and fro with letters, by which means some home news reached Paton Hall, but—lest mischief should befall—nothing of great interest, either in public or private concerns, was entrusted to these letters and messengers.

Early in the summer of 1539 a messenger arrived from Greenwich, announcing that Master Marvin, with his wife and infant daughter, were on their way to Paton Hall, and would probably arrive a day after the letter reached them.

It caused quite a commotion in the household to hear such news as this, and Lady Paton did not know whether to be glad or sorry that her brother-in-law was coming. For her sister there would be an unstinted welcome, and Lady Paton was pleased to hear that a baby had come at last. But Walter Marvin—she could only shake her head and wonder.

Sir Miles laughed, and reminded his wife that it was possible that Walter Marvin had changed since he had taken up the study of God's Word. But the lady shook her head again. "He was such a bigoted Catholic," she added. "You said yourself he would only read 'Coverdale's Bible.'"

"Well, well, we shall see when the travellers arrive. You and Margery must have their chambers made ready, for I would not have them think we do not gladly welcome them. So give them of the best, dear dame, and I will order fresh rushes to be cut, that all may be in readiness when they arrive."

But it was not until two days had passed that the travellers were seen slowly wending their way through the village, with a cavalcade of horses and mules that quite startled Sir Miles when he went out to meet them.

"We have come to settle among you," said Master Marvin, when he had greeted Sir Miles, and led him to where Maud was sitting on as comfortable a pillion as her husband could contrive for her. She smiled and looked so happy, as she held up her baby, that Sir Miles wondered what it could all mean.