Geoffrey the Lollard

by Frances Eastwood

It seemed as though there was scarcely an hour in the twenty-four in which the clanging of the bell did not arouse the luckless inmates to repair to the chapel for prayers, and woe to any one who were so unfortunate as to break any one of the strict rules of the house, for the slightest punishment of the abbess was a thing to be dreaded. Perhaps it was to lie for hours stretched in the form of a cross on the cold pavement of the cell or chapel; to stand in a painful posture before some shrine, till the offender fainted from weariness; to go day after day with the least possible quantity of the coarsest food that could keep soul and body together; or perhaps, in extreme cases, the holy lady would herself apply the scourge to the naked back of the criminal, accompanying each blow by a pious exhortation, or a passage in the life of a saint, until both voice and hand were too wearied to perform their part any longer.

"And now daughter," she would say, as her victim was led away, "go in peace; may this slight correction save thee from the pains of hell! Go in peace, and forget not in thy prayers to thank Our Lady and the saints that thou hast been placed here, where thy soul is so well cared for!"

It was quite doubtful whether the offender ever experienced the gratitude which was expected of her for the benefits received at the reverend Lady's hand, but it was thought that Mother Beatrice quite enjoyed these little opportunities for doing good, and either found, or made them, as often as possible.

It was after one of these occasions, when she was resting from the benevolent fatigue she had just undergone, that the porteress came bustling in, with an unusual air of excitement, to inform her of the arrival of the captain and his men.

The abbess received the soldier with the cold dignity befitting her situation; but as soon as she had heard the story, her heart palpitated with joy and triumph, in a manner quite unusual to one covered with the serge robe of her order. Her ruling passion was for governing, and forcing those around her to an absolute subjection to her will; and she had lately begun to weary of the contracted scope given to her powers in this quiet convent. The sins which she was called upon to punish were, after all, mere peccadilloes, and her subjects were so subdued by severity that there was no hope of a serious enough rebellion among them to excite her faculties in putting it down; but here were intrusted to her two heretics, made all the more interesting by being of the opposite sex, and yet not old enough to bring a scandal upon the convent if it received them within its walls. She promised the captain to do all she could to draw from them the secret of their father's hiding-place and that of Lord Cobham, and to keep them safely till the archbishop, who was then in London, should return, and decide what was to be done with them.

When the captain and his troop had departed, she ordered her prisoners to be brought into her presence. The boys had at first been rather rejoiced at the thought of being placed under female care, but one look at their stern jailer was sufficient to alarm them. Hubert shrank to his brother's side, but Geoffrey drew himself up proudly, and returned her scrutiny by an unabashed and not very polite stare.

The wily prioress noticed this, and determined that they were very different characters, and as such must be differently treated. "Come hither, my pretty boy," she said, throwing as much tenderness as possible into her voice; and, drawing him gently toward her, she questioned him concerning his journey and his fatigue in such a way that his answers, at first confined to monosyllables, became more full, and he was soon talking with her quite freely, unheeding the signs by which Geoffrey, who was standing moodily by the door, tried to check him. At that moment the convent-bell pealed out its summons, and the abbess, arising, said, "Come, my little page, we will go to hear some of that music you were just telling me you loved so dearly;" and before the elder lad had time to put in a word, the superior and her charge had left the room. As the door closed behind her, another opened, and the porteress, entering, bade him follow her. He obeyed, though secretly determined not to be led to chapel, as he conceived Hubert must have been. His fears were groundless, as he soon discovered; it was not the abbess's plan to try him that way. He followed his guide through several passages and courts to a low damp-looking cell, and when Sister Ursula had shown him the pitcher of water and piece of bread for his refreshment, that were placed in a niche serving for a table, she withdrew, and bolting the door, left him to his own reflections.

His first impulse was to examine his prison. The only light admitted was from a small window, or rather slit in the wall, which was well barred; and it was not till his eyes became somewhat accustomed to the dim light, that he found he was in a good-sized room, some twenty feet square, and built entirely of stone. It had evidently been originally intended for a cellar; but that it had sometime been used as a prison was also evident, as there was a chain fastened to the wall, and the door was strong, and well provided with bolts and bars. On a shelf covered with cloth, at the side, stood a crucifix, and behind it hung a rude sketch of the Virgin, with the legend, "Ora pro nobis, peccavi!" in black letter. The boy gave a scornful glance at this, and then threw himself down on the heap of straw in the corner intended for his bed.

At first he buried his face in his hands in anxious thought, but soon started up, and began a careful examination of the walls and floor of his prison. His object was this. In the arrangements for flight at the hut on the cliff the preceding night, it will be remembered that the sheets of parchment containing parts of the Bible had been divided among the people. Geoffrey's share he carried in a bag under the cloth jerkin that he wore, and he was afraid lest the prioress should undertake to search him, and so discover those precious pages, which he would then not only lose forever, but which would prove witnesses sufficient to send him, without further question, to the stake. He therefore wished to find some place where he might secrete them, if a search seemed probable.

In the darkest corner of the room, partly concealed by a recess, he found a door, which had evidently, by the cobwebs gathered thickly over it, not been opened for a long time. Induced by the decayed appearance of the wood, he applied his shoulder to it, and one forcible push sent it bursting in, and nearly choked him with dust. At first his heart beat high, for he thought he had found a way of escape; but he was soon disappointed. It only opened into what seemed to have been an entrance or vestibule to the old cellar, for there were marks where some steps had been fastened into the wall; and a doorway, half-way up the side, had been built up with a different kind of stone. The walls were, however, much thinner, and the window larger. After making himself sure that there was no way to it except through the outer cell, he placed his parchments in a crevice under the window and returned to the other room, replacing the door so as to make all look as much as possible as it did before.