The House of Walderne Part 8

"Tell me the whole story," said the Earl of Leicester.

"Pardon me, my good brother, I want to hear how he defends himself."

And Martin began:

"We were in the woods, when we heard a great rustling, and saw a doe crossing the path, very frightened, but for all that she kept stopping and looking back, and we saw a little fawn by her side, who couldn't keep up; then we heard the hound baying behind, and the poor mother trembled and started, but wouldn't leave her little one, but bleated piteously to the wee thing to make haste. I never saw an animal in such distress before, and I could not bear it, so I stood in the track to stop the dog, and he rushed upon my spear.

I was very sorry for the good hound, but I was more sorry for the doe and her fawn."

"And thou wouldst do the same thing again, I suppose?" said the Earl of Leicester.

"I couldn't help it."

"And what didst thou do, Hubert?"

"I tried to stop him, but I couldn't."

"Thou didst not feel the same pity, then, for the deer?"

"No, my lord, because I thought dogs were made to hunt deer, and deer to be hunted."

"Thou art quite right, my lad," said he of Warwick, "and the other lad is a simpleton--I was going to say a chicken-hearted simpleton, but he was brave enough when his own neck seemed in danger, nor does he fear much for his back now--

"What dost thou say, boy?"

"My lord, if I have offended you, I refuse not to pay with my back."

"Get ready for the scourge, then," said the earl his lord, half smiling, and evidently trying his courage, "unless thou wilt say thou art sorry for thy deed."

"I am ready, my lord. I would say anything I could say without lying, rather than offend thee, but what am I to do? Let me bear what I have to bear."

"Nay," said the earl, "it may not be. My brother of Warwick, canst thou not forgive him? I will send thee two good hounds in the place of poor Bruno. Dost thou not see the lad has sat in the school of Saint Francis, who pitied and loved everything, great and small, as Adam de Maresco, my good friend at Oxford, tells me, and so all G.o.d's creatures loved him, and came at his call--the birds, nay, the fishes?"

"Dost thou believe all this, my boy?" said he of Warwick.

"Yes, it is all true, is it not? It is in the Flores Sancti Francisci."

The earl smiled.

"Come, my boy, I forgive thee.

"My good brother of Leicester, the lad is made for a Franciscan; don't spoil a good friar by making him a warrior."

"And Franciscan he shall be.

"Say, my boy, wouldst thou like to go to Oxford and study under my worthy friend, Adam de Maresco?"

Martin's eyes sparkled with delight.

"Oh yes, my lord.

"Thank you, my Lord of Warwick."

"Thy punishment shall then be exile from the castle; thou may'st cease from the sports of the tilt yard, which thou hast never loved, and Father Edmund shall take thee seriously in hand."

"Oh, thanks, my lord, O felix dies."

"See how he takes to Latin, like a duck to the water.

"Hubert, thou must go with him."

Hubert's countenance fell.

"Oh no, no, my lord, I want to be a soldier like my father; please don't send me away.

"Oh, Martin, what a fool thou art!"

"Fool! fie! for shame! thou forgettest in whose company thou art.

Each to his own liking; thou to make food for the sword, Martin perhaps to suffer martyrdom on a gridiron, like Saint Lawrence, amongst the heathen."

"He is the stuff they make martyrs from," muttered he of Warwick.

"No, Hubert, you may stay and work out your own destiny, and Martin shall go to Oxford."

"Oh, Martin, I am so sorry."

But Martin was rapturous with joy.

And so, more soberly, was another person joyful--even the chaplain, for he saw the making of a valiant friar of Saint Francis in Martin. That wondrous saint, Francis of a.s.sisi {10}, whose mission it was to restore to the depraved Christianity of the day an element it seemed losing altogether, that of brotherly love, was an embodiment of the sentiment of a later poet:

He prayeth best who loveth best, All things both great and small, For the dear G.o.d, who loveth us, He made and loveth all.

And wondrous was his power over the rudest men and the most savage animals in consequence. All things loved Francis--the most timid animals, the most shy birds, all alike flocked around him when he appeared.

The brotherhood he had founded was unlike the monastic orders; its members were not to retire from the world, but to live in it, and devote themselves entirely to the good of mankind; they were to renounce all worldly wealth, and embrace chast.i.ty, poverty, and obedience--theirs was not to be the joy of family life, theirs no settled abode. Wandering from place to place they were to live solely on the alms of those to whom they preached the gospel of peace.

Established only at the beginning of the century of our tale, it had already extended its energies throughout Europe. They came to England in 1224, only four clergy and five laymen. Already they numbered more than twelve hundred brethren in England alone; and they were found where they were most needed, in the back slums of the undrained and crowded towns, amongst the hovels of the serfs where plague was raging, where leprosy lingered--there were the Franciscans in this the heroic age of their order, before they had fallen from their first love, and verified the proverb--Corruptio optimi est pessima. Under their teaching a new school of theology had arisen at Oxford; the great Bishop of Lincoln, Robert Grosseteste, was its first lecturer, the most enlightened prelate of the day; and now Adam de Maresco, a warm friend of Earl Simon, was at its head. To his care the earl determined to commend young Martin.

Chapter 5: Martin Leaves Kenilworth.

Martin was henceforth relieved of his customary exercises in the tilt yard and elsewhere, which had become distasteful to him in proportion as the longing for a better life had grown upon his imagination. Of course the other boys treated him with huge contempt; and sent him metaphorically "to Coventry," the actual spires of which august medieval city, far more beautiful then than now, rose beyond the trees in the park.

But the chaplain saw this, and with the earl's permission lodged the neophyte in a chamber adjacent to his own "cell," where he gave himself up to his beloved books, only varying the monotony by an occasional stroll with his friend Hubert, who never turned his back upon his former friend, and endured much chaffing and teasing in consequence.

Most rapidly Martin's facile brain acquired the learning of the day--Latin became as his mother tongue, for it was then taught conversationally, and the chaplain seldom or never spoke to him in any other language.

And after a few months his zealous tutor thought him prepared for the important step in his life, and wrote to the great master of scholastic philosophy already mentioned, Adam de Maresco, to bespeak admission into one of the Franciscan schools or colleges then existing at Oxford. There was no penny or other post--a special messenger had to be sent.