It was Prior Matthew who summed up and delivered judgment in Montjoy’s hall. “Ride with us now to Silver Cross, Montjoy—and do you come also, Edmund the Preacher, and you, Master Eustace Bettany, and any and all others who will! Yea, make throng and procession! What! Shall there be division between Silver Cross and Middle Forest who have dwelled together since the Confessor’s day? Sometimes eh, Middle Forest?—we have quarrelled, but not for long, have we? Ours, after all, one bed and one hearth! Doth Silver Cross grow rich and great, it is for Middle Forest. Doth Middle Forest increase, Silver Cross goes smiling. Remember the saintly abbot—Abbot Robert—and how did he and his monks when befell the Plague! Remember war, and we stood together. And now Heaven blesseth both, and Holy Well, a thousand years from now, shall still be Holy Well!”
He had it now—Mark and he had it in their four hands! If they carried it carefully, and they would do so, four hands obeying the Prior of Westforest’s head. Now for the trouble maker, the crazed one who failed to see or hear Interest though she shouted at him and pulled him by the robe! Prior Matthew gave a short order to Silver Cross monks. “Take him!”
Brother Norbert, Brother Anselm, Brother Wilfrid and the others fell upon Brother Richard. Short, hard struggle, and they had him. Brother Norbert bound his arms with hempen girdle. As he still shouted accusations, at the Prior’s nod they gagged him. “Not holy man who may be holy man again, but Apollyon who now hath seized the tower and speaketh from the gate!”
Montjoy sat in his lord’s chair and looked straight before him. Truth, truth—is it not profoundly likely to be here? Were it not for Hugh of Saint Leofric, could ever he have doubted it? The monk’s tale,—fantastic, like a romaunt! Say, darkly, it is true; what other can cry Aye! and strengthen it, or No! and dash it into dreams? Who other but Morgen Fay?
It formed in Montjoy’s mind that that harlot must be found.
Prior Matthew, Brother Richard silenced, had present eyes for the Black Friar there to one side, standing grimly for Saint Leofric. “Now and here!” said within the Westforest chess player. Matthew spoke in his dry, reasonable voice.
“Ride you, too, with us, Friar Martin! You shall have mule. What! Saint Leofric and Saint Willebrod, be sure they ride together! Shall we not make England and Christendom ring for that all this corner of earth, this side river, that side river, Silver Cross and Saint Leofric alike are blessed? Bridge over river shall be to you and be to us, and I see it built thick and high with booths and rooms for pilgrims! The Princess of Spain goes to-day to Saint Leofric’s tomb, to-morrow to Holy Well! To-day the Dauphin heareth mass in Silver Cross, to-morrow goeth in procession around Saint Leofric his church! Both ways he passeth through Middle Forest. Common good—common good! What else is worth anything in this life? The more massive the bruit, the broader, higher, shooteth the fame of all!”
It was undeniable! Black Friar thought somewhat surlily, “If I go I can at least take account of all to Prior Hugh. And there is something in ‘If you can’t increase apart, increase together’!”
Rested that fanatic, Father Edmund the Preacher. Better always have Father Edmund preach for you, not against you! He could any time whip calm sea into storm. The chess player considered him, to whom just now Morgen Fay, the harlot, stood for all harlotry, whether of brain or heart. When all heinousness was believed of Morgen Fay, then would the countryside be roused at last, then would every man, woman and child become huntsman! Father Edmund meant to continue to believe Brother Richard’s story. Why not? She was capable of it. Certain abbeys of this later time were capable. Father Edmund was one to cry under the Pope’s great window, “Reform! Reform!”
Prior Matthew saw the weather thickening. Presently from that quarter lightning flash and thunder clap! “Boldness my wisdom!” he breathed.