Aldam shook off the mailed fingers.
"What! What!" he cried. "Would you lay hands in violence upon one of God's anointed? … Stand back, Sir Aymer de Lacy … and you, too, Sir John de Bury, lest I smite you both with the Church's anathema."
A gasp of horror came from the monks, and even the two Priors were appalled at the threat—dire enough, indeed, to most men in that age, but little short of Hell itself to such as were cloister-bred.
De Lacy folded his arms again over his battle-axe.
"It was no purpose nor intent of mine," he said, "to offer you violence———"
"Nathless, it was done," the Abbot broke in arrogantly, "and naught but sharp penance can atone for it and for your deeds here this day."
De Lacy smiled contemptuously. "Methinks, lord Abbot, you are strangely dull of brain to fancy you can fright us so. Believe me, we care as little for your curse as for your broken chair. Nor did I speak in apology for my action. I meant no violence then; yet if we do not get true answer to our questions, be assured there shall be violence both meant and done."
The monks groaned aloud; but the Abbot only shrugged his shoulders.
"You have heard," De Lacy went on with steady menace; "and do not think it is an idle boast. Answer! have you the Countess of Clare within the bounds of Kirkstall Abbey?"
Aldam raised his hand in seeming horror. "Think you that the monks of Benedict———?" he began.