The Priest started—looked suddenly back—halted, and drew himself up—then turned again, and moved a few paces slowly onwards, as if irresolute what he should do.—Again he halted, and again he moved on, whilst Sir Walter’s footsteps were hurrying fast up to him.—At length, he seemed to have made up his mind to abide that parley which he now saw he could not escape, and, turning sharp round to face the Stewart, he planted himself firmly in the way before him.
“What would’st thou with me, Sir Knight?” demanded he, in a haughty and determined tone.—“After the rude and unwonted message which thou hast just dared to send to me, a holy minister of the Church, methinks that thou canst dare to approach me now, for no other purpose, than to sue penitently for pardon and absolution at my hands.”
“A holy minister of the Church!” exclaimed Sir Walter.—“A minister of the holy Church, if thou wilt—but thyself most unholy.—My sins, God pardon me!—are many.—But albeit that I am at all times ready to kneel in confession, and in humble penitence, before that true and godly servant of Christ, the good and pious father, Peter of Dounan, or any other such as he, I will never bend the knee before one, whose wickedness has been the dishonour and reproach of the district, ever since it hath been cursed with his presence, and who yet profanely dares most impiously to approach the holy altar.”
“Brother! brother Walter!” cried Patrick Stewart, endeavouring to moderate Sir Walter’s growing ire; “what madness is this! Think of the sacred character he wears, however little common fame may give him credit for supporting it. Think how——”
“Silence, I say, Patrick!” cried Sir Walter, in an authoritative tone, which he had never before assumed to his brother. “Again I say, thou knowest not the secret reasons which move me at this moment. That foul swine, whose sensual snout hath been in every man’s dish, and who hath uprooted that very vineyard which hath been confided to his care, must be forthwith cast out. He must be no longer permitted to live. Seize him and bind him!”
“Lay not a hand on me, good sirs, if you would avoid the thunders and excommunications of the Church,” cried the priest, now no longer proud, but trembling, and in an humble tone.
“Seize him and bind him, I say,” cried Sir Walter. “If there be any one man among the Clan-Allan here—if there be one Clan-Allan Stewart, I say, who in his conscience believes that he doth not deserve to die by fire, that man hath my leave to sit apart, and bear no faggot to the pile that is to consume him. Who among you is there that doth not know his misdeeds? Not a man answers. Then is he condemned by all. Let each man, then, get him to the wood, and bring a faggot of the driest fuel, and let him forthwith be brent, and his ashes scattered to the winds, so that the earth may be no longer polluted with his carcase, and that even the very memory of him may perish!”
“Brother, brother!” cried Patrick Stewart, in a tone of entreaty; “do not bring upon yourself the terrors of the Church. His fame, indeed, is none of the best; but, whatever be his sins, bethink thee that ’twere better to let him be tried by that sacred tribunal to which he is naturally amenable.”
“By the holy Rood, which this traitor to his crucified Master has so wickedly profaned, he shall not live an hour,” cried Sir Walter, rising in his rage. “I am but the executioner of God’s justice on him; and he shall die, be the consequences what they may. See!—see how busily the fellows toil! Their hearts are in the work. The labour is a pleasure to them. Not a man hath stood aloof from it, far less hath any one dared to speak in his cause. Why, then shouldst thou speak brother Patrick? Though thou knowest not all, thou knowest quite enough to know that he hath well earned the fate I have awarded him. But though thou art ignorant of all that now impelleth me, I tell thee that I have enough to satisfy bishop or pope, if need were, that I am now doing the Church good service. But, be that as it may, I trust the time will never come when the chieftain of Clan-Allan shall not dare to deal with all within the bounds of Stradawn, whether churchman or layman, as his pleasure may dictate. Ha! see, the pile is already heaped high, and now they are preparing to set fire to it; that shows no want of good will; and see, of their own accord, they prepare to drag him to it!”
“Then, brother, though I am the younger, I must needs interfere,” cried Patrick Stewart, rushing forward to throw himself between the men of the clan, and their terrified victim; “such a deed as this must never be done by thee, my brother.”