CHAPTER VIII
“BEHOLD THE FIELDS ARE WHITE”
The Prior’s heart was ready, and it seemed to him as he passed up the village and saw the huddled, helpless people, that his little maid led him by the hand.
Brother Simon, Brother Leo, and the novices turned aside to speak comfort and carry succour to the sick and fearful, and to bury the dead; for three unshriven souls had passed to judgment and mercy. Hilarius made straight for the ale-house.
As he crossed the green, the door opened and Dickon stumbled blindly down the steps. At sight of a monk he cried out, and suddenly sobered, dropped on his knees, while the topers and roysterers staring from the open doorway fell into silence.
Hilarius pushed back his cowl and stood bareheaded in the scorching sun of that windless day; it came to his mind that he was very weary.
“Hear, O my children, the Lord hath sent me to succour you, lest ye go down quick into the pit. Return, every one of you, for the arms of His love are still stretched wide upon the Rood, and the very hairs of your head are numbered. Repent ye, therefore, and confess each one of you his sins, that I may prepare him for the work of the Lord; and take comfort also, for they that are with us are mighty.”
One by one the men, sobered by the shock of great surprise, confessed and were shriven under the summer sun: only the man Dickon was not among them. Then the Prior bade them get to work as he should direct; and he set a watch that no man should flee the village; and all obeyed him.
Early and late the Prior toiled with the Brethren and his band of workers, nursing the sick, burying the dead, and destroying the pestilent dwellings.
Brother Leo was the first to whom the call came: he answered it like a soldier at his post.
As the Prior rose from the pallet of his dead son, one bade him come quickly, for a dying man had need of him. It was Dickon.