“In the name of God,” ran the commendatory letter, “we would have your highness or holiness to know that the bearer of the present letters, our brother, has asked our permission to go peaceably on pilgrimage to Jerusalem, either for his own sins, or to pray for our preservation. Thereupon, we have given him these present letters, in which we salute you, and pray you, for the love of God and Saint Peter, to receive him as your guest, to be useful to him in going and coming back, so that he may return in safety to his house; and as is your good custom, make him pass happy days. May God the Eternal King protect you, and keep you in his kingdom!”
Thus provided, the pilgrim found hostels open for him, and every castle and monastery ready to receive him. Long and weary his journey may have been, but it could not have been tedious to him with eyes to see and observe, when every city was a sort of new world, when a new country lay beyond every hill, and new manners and customs were marked on every day. The perils and dangers of the way were not until the Mohammedan conquest—nor indeed after it, until the time of Hakem—very great. True, the woods harboured wild beasts, but the pilgrims travelled in bands; and there were robbers, but these did not rob those who had nothing. The principal dangers were those of which they knew nothing, the diseases due to malaria, exposure, sun-stroke, fatigue, and change of climate. These, and not the Turks, were the chief enemies of pilgrims. And in spite of these, known and unknown, dangers, there cannot be a doubt that the pilgrimage to Syria was a long series of new and continually changing wonders and surprises. The church which blessed the pilgrim, also celebrated the act of pilgrimage, and a service has been preserved which was performed on the Second Sunday after Easter, in the cathedral of Rouen. Of this the following is an abridgment:—In the nave of the church was erected a fort, “castellum,” representing that house at Emmaus where the two travellers entered and broke bread with Christ. At the appointed time two priests, “of the second seats,” appointed for the day, came forth from the vestry, singing the hymn which begins “Jesu, nostra redemptio.” They were to be dressed in tunics, “et desuper cappis transversum,” were to have long flowing hair and beards, and were each to carry a staff and scrip. Singing this hymn, and slowly marching down the right aisle, they came to the western porch, when they put themselves at the head of the procession of choristers waiting for them, and all began together to sing, “Nos tuo vultu saties.” Then the priest for the day, robed in alb and surplice, barefooted, carrying a cross on his right shoulder, advanced to meet them, and “suddenly standing before them,” asked, “What manner of communications are these that ye have one to another as ye walk, and are sad?”[[42]] To which the two pilgrims replied, “Art thou only a stranger in Jerusalem, and hast not known the things which are come to pass there in these days?”
[42]. We take the words of the authorized version.
“What things?” asked the priest.
“Concerning Jesus of Nazareth,” they replied, with the words which follow.
“Oh, fools!” said the priest, “and slow of heart, to believe all that the prophets have spoken.”
And then, feigning to retire, the priest would there have left them, but they held him back, and pointing to the “castellum,” entreated him to enter, singing, “Abide with us, for it is towards evening, and the day is far spent.” Then singing another hymn, they led him to the “Fort of Emmaus,” when they entered and sat down at a table already spread for supper. Here the priest brake bread sitting between them, and being recognised by this act for the Lord, “suddenly vanished out of their sight.” The pilgrims pretending to be stupefied, arose and sung sorrowfully (lamentabiliter), “Alleluia,” with the verse, “Did not our hearts burn within us, while he talked with us by the way, and while he opened to us the Scriptures?”
Singing this twice they walked to the pulpit, where they sang the verse, “Dic nobis Maria.” After this, another priest, dressed in a dalmatic and surplice, with head muffled up like a woman, came to them and sang, “Sepulcrum Christi Angelicos testes.”
He then took up a cloth from one place, and a second from another place, and threw them before the great door of the choir. “And then let him sing, ‘Christ has risen,’ and let the choir chaunt the two other verses which follow, and let the women and the pilgrims retire within; and the memory of this act being thus recalled, let the procession return to the choir, and the vespers be finished.”
These ceremonies were not, of course, designed to meet the case of pilgrimages undertaken by way of penance. These were of two kinds, minores peregrationes, which were pilgrimages on foot to local shrines, such as, later on, that of St. Thomas-à-Becket, for instance; or majores, to Rome or Jerusalem. The latter, of which Frotmond’s pilgrimage—which will be described further on—is an example, were for murder, sacrilege, or for any other great crime. One of the rules as regards a murderer was as follows:—“Let a chain be made of the very sword with which the crime was committed, and let the neck, arms, and body of the criminal be bound round with this chain; thus let him be driven from his native country, and wander whither the Pope shall direct him, till by long prayer he obtain the Divine mercy.”