Par le morsel ki ferm s’ahert.
Morz est li senglant felun;
Mut out force la benaicun,
Ke duna a mors vertu,
Par unc la mort provée fu.
‘Atant’ se escrie li rois,
‘Treiez hors ceu chen punois.’”[1085]
This form of ordeal never obtained the extended influence which characterized some of the other modes, and it seems to have been chiefly confined to the populations allied to the Saxon race. In England, before the Conquest, it was enjoined on the lower orders of the clergy who were unable to procure conjurators,[1086] and it may be considered as a plebeian mode of trial, rarely rising into historical importance. Its vitality, however, is demonstrated by the fact that Lindenbruck, writing in 1613, states that it was then still in frequent use.[1087]
Aimoin relates a story which, though in no sense judicial, presents us with a development of the same superstition. A certain renowned knight named Arnustus unjustly occupied lands belonging to the Benedictine Abbey of Fleury. Dining at the usurped property one day, and boasting of his contempt for the complaints of the holy monks, he took a pear and exclaimed—“I call this pear to witness that before the year is out I will give them ample cause for grumbling.” Choking with the first morsel, he was carried speechless to bed, and miserably perished unhouselled, a warning to evildoers not to tempt too far the patience of St. Benedict.[1088] Stories such as this are by no means uncommon, and are not without interest as a portion of the armory by which the clergy defended themselves against their unquiet neighbors. Of kindred nature is an occurrence related about the year 1090, when Duke Henry of Limburg was involved in a quarrel with Engilbert, Archbishop of Trèves, and treated with contempt the excommunication and anathema inflicted upon him. Joking upon the subject with his followers one day at dinner, he tossed a fragment of food to his dog, remarking that if the animal ate it, they need not feel apprehensive of the episcopal curse. The dog refused the tempting morsel, though he manifested his hunger by eagerly devouring food given him by another hand, and the duke, by the advice of his counsellors, lost no time in reconciling himself with his ghostly adversary. This is the more remarkable, as Engilbert himself was under excommunication by Gregory VII., being a stanch imperialist, who had received his see from Henry IV., and his pallium from the antipope Guiberto.[1089]
In India, this ordeal is performed with a kind of rice called sathee, prepared with various incantations. The person on trial eats it, with his face to the East, and then spits upon a peepul leaf. “If the saliva is mixed with blood, or the corners of his mouth swell, or he trembles, he is declared to be a liar.”[1090] A slightly different form is described for cases in which several persons are suspected of theft. The consecrated rice is administered to them all, is chewed lightly, and then spit out upon a peepul leaf. If any one ejects it either dry or tinged with blood, he is adjudged guilty.[1091]