"Thou hadst ever a sharp tongue, Pierre, and little regard for thy betters; but I absolve thee. Nevertheless, I advise thee to the holy calling also. Then what could hinder me bestowing upon thee my Abbot's office? The best of all things would be at thy command—ease, wine, wenches, and a jolly fat trencher at all times. I warrant thee there is no life so merry and so bountiful as the command of a good fat monastery."
"Bravo!" shouted Pierre, who was immensely tickled by the Abbot's suggestion; and, bursting again into a roar of laughter, he cried, "well, this is too rich for anything! Pierre turned Saint; ha, ha, ha! 'Twould be after the most godly example of your Grace, I trow. Ha, ha! good! I'll wash it down, anyhow;" and he raised the tankard to his lips, and cried, "Drink to't, your Reverence. Here's to Saint Pierre of pious memory;" and promptly he drained the tankard to the bottom; then, bringing it down again with a bang upon the table, he fairly roared with laughter.
"Thou art an ass, Pierre! An arrant ass!" said the Abbot, who was considerably nettled at the freedom with which Pierre made a jest of him and his office. "Canst thou not see that after the Baron's death De Montfort will soon be quit of us if we cannot checkmate him? To jest under the gallows, and end it by swinging on them, is fool's work."
"Well, well, I'll turn the matter over carefully, I think," said Pierre a little more soberly. "Your Grace has done it, and I think there is something in it. I don't know how the sneaking method of doing things, after the dare-devil manner familiar to me, will suit my stomach. I have always liked the chase better than the game, and I confess I would rather fight it through, come what may.
"But," said he, bursting into a loud guffaw, as the ludicrousness of his turning monk thrust itself upon him, and relapsing again into the jocularity and bitter sarcastic tone familiar to him,—
"Now that you recommend it so strongly, I think I will retire from active duties, and grow fat and wheezy like yourself. Anyhow, it stands to reason, the bigger the paunch the more good sack wine it will hold, and that is an item. True, too, a lazy life and a lascivious appetite are bound to go together. Less force to labour, and more to lechery; that's the sum of it. I think I come to't, your Reverence. Beshrew me! what would any man have? for if he lust lustily, and be a jolly trencherman to boot, with his fill provided to him, what can he wish for more? My hand on it, your Reverence! I'll undertake the venture. It is a mad hazard, but I like it none the worse for that!"
"Then when wilt thou start on thine errand, Pierre? Time is precious. The Count knows I have possession of those letters, and, mark me, he will circumvent us if he can."
"Line my pocket with gold pieces and I'll start at cock crowing, and De Montfort may catch me if he can, when once I get the start of him."
Slowly at that instant the door opened behind them, and Oswald, Wulfhere and a couple of attendants, armed to the teeth, entered, and closed the door behind them, whilst one stout yeoman set his back against it. The countenance of Vigneau fell on the instant as though a sword had pierced him, and he became livid as death. Hastily clutching at the letters lying on the table, he endeavoured to thrust them into a recess of the cabinet, and he fairly cowered in abject terror before these strange visitants. On the contrary, Pierre whipped out his broadsword, and fiercely stood at bay; his savage valour being in striking contrast to the crouching cowardice of the Abbot.
"Give place, master," said Wulfhere, advancing on Pierre; "this fellow is mine. You have already had your revenge. Now, blood-thirsty villain," said he, addressing Pierre, "I told thee, did I not, that the time would come when thou shouldest answer to me for thy cruelties and murders? the time has come now; and thou canst no longer shirk the fate that has long awaited thee."