"Verily, verily," nodded the little man placidly, "I have here in my wallet a twig from Moses' burning bush, with the great toe of Thomas a' Didymus, the thumb of the blessed Saint Alban—"
"Ha, rogue!" quoth Giles, "when I was a monk we had four thumbs of the good Saint Alban—"
"Why then, content you, fond youth," smiled the Pardoner, "my thumb is number one—"
"Oh, tall brother," quoth Giles, "'tis an irreverent knave, that maketh the monk in me arise, my very toes do twitch for to kick his lewd and sacrilegious carcase—and, lord, he would kick wondrous soft—"
"And therein, sweet and gentle lord," beamed the little buxom man, "therein lieth a recommendation of itself. Divers noble lords have kicked me very familiarly ere now, and finding me soft and tender have, forthwith, kicked again. I mind my lord Duke Ivo, did with his own Ducal foot kick me right heartily upon a time, and once did spit upon my cloak—I can show you the very place—and these things do breed and argue familiarity. Thus have I been familiar with divers noble lords— and there were ladies also, ladies fair and proud—O me!"
"Now, by the Rood!" says Beltane, sitting up and staring, "whence had you this, Giles?"
"My lord, 'twas found by the man Jenkyn snoring within the green, together with a mule—a sorry beast! a capon partly devoured, a pasty— well spiced! and a wine-skin—empty, alas! But for who it is, and whence it cometh—"
"Sweet, courteous lord,—resplendent, youthful sir, I come from north and south, from east and west, o'er land, o'er sea, from village green and market-square, but lately from the holy shrine of the blessed Saint Amphibalus. As to who I am and what—the universal want am I, for I do stand for health, fleshly and spiritual. I can cure your diseases of the soul, mind and body. In very sooth the Pardoner of Pardoners am I, with pardons and indulgences but now hot from the holy fist of His Holiness of Rome: moreover I have a rare charm and notable cure for the worms, together with divers salves, electuaries, medicaments and nostrums from the farthest Orient. I have also store of songs and ballades, grave and gay. Are ye melancholic? Then I have a ditty merry and mirthful. Would ye weep? Here's a lamentable lay of love and languishment infinite sad to ease you of your tears. Are ye a sinner vile and damnèd? Within my wallet lie pardons galore with powerful indulgences whereby a man may enjoy all the cardinal sins yet shall his soul be accounted innocent as a babe unborn and his flesh go without penance. Here behold my special indulgence! The which, to him that buyeth it, shall remit the following sins damned and deadly—to wit: Lechery, perjury, adultery, wizardry. Murders, rapes, thievings and slanders. Then follow the lesser sins, as—"
"Hold!" cried Beltane, "surely here be sins enough for any man."
"Not so, potent sir: for 'tis a right sinful world and breedeth new sins every day, since man hath a rare invention that way. Here is a grievous thing, alas! yet something natural: for, since men are human, and human 'tis to sin, so must all men be sinners and, being sinners, are they therefore inevitably damned!"