Chapter XXVII: The Prior of St. Margaret's

LADY PATON was playing on the virginal in the pleasant summer parlour, where she and Sir Miles had so often met before she went to the convent, and where he had given her the little bit of the New Testament he himself had translated into English. Cicely was alone, thinking of all that had happened since that day, and how eventful her life had been, and how unlikely it seemed at one time that she should ever see the old home again. And yet, here she was, playing on the virginal, and likely to be here for a month or two longer at least, for she and her husband both desired to prolong their visit that they might hear the wonderful sermons that were preached in the Parish Church—both by the Archbishop, Cranmer, and also by his more uncompromising friend, Latimer. He did not hesitate to preach the truth, even to the King himself; and Cicely was hoping that Henry might yet be brought to repentance for the murder of the Queen, when the door opening into the garden was hastily pushed back, and her husband appeared looking greatly disturbed.

"Cicely, Jack Bunce has come, bringing a letter from Margery, and most portentous news from home."

"Oh, Miles! is our Harry ill?" asked Lady Paton with a gasp.

"Nay, nay, sweetheart! both our darlings are well. Margery says they have grown an inch she thinks; and they are good and obedient little knaves."

"Then, wherefore should Margery send to you in such hot haste?" asked his wife, with a sigh of relief.

"Well, we heard here, almost as soon as we came, that the Vicar-General, Master Cromwell, was determined to carry out what our master the Cardinal began—the suppression of the monasteries. We did not think that this commission would affect us, and we paid little heed to it, although I heard of what was afoot before I left home. Now, Master Cromwell is not one to let any matter sleep, and so our monastery at home has been seized by order of the King and Vicar-General; and all the monks have been turned out, and have gone to claim a shelter and a home from Margery."

"Oh, poor Margery! what would she do?" exclaimed Cicely.

Sir Miles smiled as he took his sister's letter out to read a piece of it to Cicely. "This is what she says: 'I am a witless woman, as you know, Miles; and so, when the brethren came to demand that I should give them food and shelter, I told them that ours was a house of work, and none could eat within its doors who did not perform such work as they were able to accomplish; that we ruled our house by the Word of God, which said, "If a man will not work, neither shall he eat."' One of the brethren told her this command was for common people, but not for monks and holy men; and she told him our house was not for monks, but for common men, who earned their bread before they ate it." And Sir Miles laughed again as Sir Harry came in and the story was repeated to him.

But Sir Harry looked grave as he read the letter. "I see she speaks of the Prior being placed in the best chamber," he remarked.

"Yes, the poor old Prior hath but a short time to live, and my Lord Privy Seal might have let him end his days in his old home. Margery hath done as I would myself, in giving him the best chamber."

"But what of these lusty knaves, the monks?" asked his father.

"Ah! they may not be left loose like wolves among sheep. I must depart with all speed in answer to this summons," said Sir Miles; and he glanced at his wife to see what she would say to this sudden termination of their visit.

Lady Paton looked perplexed. Like her husband she had found this return to her old home and the great world very pleasant; and she was charmed and helped by the new order of preaching introduced by the Reformers. She said something about hoping to learn more from Master Latimer before she went home.

"Well, sweetheart, shall I leave you here for awhile?" said Sir Miles, with a wistful look at his wife.

"She will be right welcome," said her father; "though, I doubt not, Master Latimer will say, as he hears aught of this coil, that it is not the amount of God's truth that we know, but what we do, that makes us true Reformers, and true Christians. But this is a matter you must decide for yourselves," he added. "You must bid your messenger rest, Miles, and his beast, too, if you think of starting on your journey to-morrow."

As Sir Harry Guildford said this, he left the room to go and tell his wife of the sudden change in affairs, for he had little doubt what Cicely's decision would be when she had time to think calmly over the matter.

He had thought a good deal about this projected suppression of the monasteries; and he knew that, unless the revenues of these poor and smaller houses were devoted to the providing pensions for those who should be expelled, the want and misery of the kingdom would be increased tenfold, for another army of beggars would be let loose upon the world. Under these circumstances, travelling would become more difficult and dangerous than ever; and so, it was not a question of Lady Paton staying a few days or weeks longer at Greenwich, for it might be many months before an opportunity occurred for the journey to Woodstock to be undertaken.

Sir Miles said something of this as Sir Harry Guildford left the room. "Miles, we have never been parted since you took me to your home," murmured the lady, dropping her eyes to the floor for a minute. Then she lifted them and turned to her husband. "I cannot let you go without me," she whispered, as she rose and threw herself into his arms. But, having made her decision, she burst into tears of regret that this pleasant visit had been so summarily ended. "I did so want to stay a little longer with mother and Maud. Poor Maud! she has no children, and does not even want them, because she would not be allowed to teach them the truths she has learned to love, and her life would be more bitter than it is."

"Poor Maud!" said Sir Miles pityingly, as he caressed his wife. "It is well she lives here close at hand, that she may have the comfort of coming home very often. She needs the old home more than you do, my Cicely."

"Yes, she does, and I can see that God is good to both of us."

"Yes, and I am not without hope that Walter may yet learn that there is something more than new opinions to be learned from God's Word, and that it is something better than mere perversity, that sets men's hearts upon studying it at all costs."

"Oh, Miles! what would our lives be without this sure hope to rest upon?" said Lady Paton, and then her mother came in and Cicely turned to meet her, the tears shining in her eyes as she looked up into her mother's face. "I could not help it, mother," she said, half-pleadingly.

"You have decided, then, my child," said Lady Guildford, and then she and Cicely sat down together in the pleasant summer parlour, and Sir Miles crept away to begin his preparations for the journey. He was very glad, very thankful that his wife had decided to go back with him; although he was very sorry to take her from her parents and the dear home nest so soon. Still, in these uncertain, unsettled days, it was best that they should be together, especially in the unforeseen circumstances that had so suddenly arisen.

So the next day they went the first stage of the journey by water, sleeping the night at the Westminster hostelry, and setting out at daybreak on horseback as they came towards Woodstock.

It soon became apparent to the travellers, that the monastery near their own home, was not the only one from which the monks had recently been driven, for every mile or two they would meet little groups of monks looking weary and footsore already from the unwonted exertion of walking so far. These were not mendicant friars, who journeyed up and down the country picking up a living as they could, but men who had lived an idle life, many of them old and unfit for labour of any kind now.

Sir Miles and Lady Paton spoke to one or two as they passed, asking where they were going; all told the same tale,—they were bound for London, where they hoped some provision would be made for them out of the revenues of their monasteries.

"Good may eventually come of this," remarked the gentleman; "but it should have been done with less haste and less harshness."

But the sight of these unwonted travellers made them push on towards home with more haste, for although Margery and Rankin between them might be trusted to devise ways and means for the proper control of the household, there was no telling what might happen when the monks were quartered among the tenantry.

It was late at night when Paton Hall was at length reached, but Margery and the steward were on the watch, in the hope of seeing the travellers return. Their coming was a great relief to Margery and the steward, for the poor old Prior was not expected to live many days; and the responsibility of having a sick man in the house, and only a young priest to attend upon him, was rather trying in the absence of the master.

"The poor old fellow will not have anybody else near him but Father John, who is a doctor and a priest, too, it seems, and has to be nurse as well now," said Margery, when she explained the situation of affairs to her brother.

Lady Paton was too weary to think of anything, and went to bed as soon as possible; but when Sir Miles had had some supper, and removed the dust of travel, he sent a servant to announce his arrival to Father John, and ask whether he would like to see him at once, or would prefer to wait until the morning.

The old man lying on the bed roused up at the sound of voices, and feebly called to the young priest. "I want Miles Paton," he whispered, when the young priest leaned over him; "and give me the casket we brought with us," he added.

"It is justice, my son; justice that must be done before there can be peace again for our holy house," he said, when Sir Miles came to him.

Sir Miles looked at the young priest, and touched his forehead, to indicate that the old man was wandering in his mind.

But Father John shook his head. "He has told me all about the casket, and what it contains, since he has been lying here. One or two of the other brethren also know of its existence, and that is why he begged me to stay by him to the end, that I might deliver it into your hands if he should not live to do it himself."

"I can go in peace now," feebly uttered the dying man; and as he spoke he took the casket from Father John, and with his last remaining strength he placed it in Sir Miles' hand. "Receive the blessing of an old man with it," he gasped, and then he closed his eyes as though his work on earth was done.

Sir Miles sat and shared the watch of the young priest, for they could see the end was very near now, and in less than an hour the old Prior had crossed the river we call death, a placid smile resting on his face, as though he had died with the comfort of the thought that justice had been done at last.

"What did he mean by giving me this?" said Sir Miles, when the last breath had been drawn.

"I have written a statement at my master's dictation. I may tell you this, that nearly all the monastery land belongs of right to the Patons. By force or fraud this has been taken from your ancestors, and this casket contains the old deeds, and a statement of how they were obtained, and my master bade me tell you to claim your own again."

Sir Miles rose and shook his head. "That will be of little use," he said, as he left the room, but he took the casket with him, and sending a servant to the priest for orders, he retired to his chamber. Sir Miles saw some of the younger monks the next day, and told them that if they remained there they must accommodate themselves to the rule of the household, which was,—work for everybody who was able to work. But if they liked to try their fortune elsewhere, their wallets should be well-filled for a three days' journey; and he advised that those who had friends should go to them, and see whether they could render them any help; or, they could go to London, and try, as others were doing, to obtain a pension or employment from the Vicar-General, who was directing all these matters.

For the older monks, some of whom were past work and quite friendless, well, Sir Miles would provide for these for the present, although he warned them that he could only give them plain, homely fare, and that he should expect them to keep their own quarters clean, and not make mischief with either the tenants or the servants.

It was the best he could do, and all he could do at present; and having settled this matter, temporarily at least, he took the casket to Margery's room, that he might examine its contents in peace.

The documents it contained were much more clear and explicit than he expected to find them; and some of the so-called leases that granted lands to the Prior and brethren of the holy house of Saint Margaret were signed by his own father. Indeed, it seemed that each ancestor in turn had been mulcted of some portion of their estate—the Paton lands thus growing smaller with each generation, while the property of the Saint increased in proportion. Masses and absolutions seemed to have been the price paid for these so-called leases.

But in reading them; and noting the dates, Sir Miles found that in no single case was there an absolute gift of the land, and that most of these leases had fallen in, although the land had in no instance been given up to its original owners; so that, as the old Prior said, it was just that all but a very small portion of this monastery land should revert to the Paton family, and not become the property of the King, or Master Cromwell, his Vicar-General.

Now, the question was, would the Vicar-General and the Commission be disposed to do him justice in this matter? Sir Miles scarcely thought this was likely, still, it was worth trying; and he resolved to ask Father John to make a fair copy of these documents, and also of the statement made at the Prior's dictation; and these, with a letter from himself, he resolved to get placed before Cromwell with as little delay as possible.

He found that the young priest was more than willing to do his part in this matter, for he was very grateful for the asylum given to himself and his old master, and that Sir Miles would order that his funeral should be conducted with the same ceremony as if he had still been at the head of the community. For all the monks had been requested to stay and take part in the ceremony, whatever their future movements might be.

But before the old Prior was buried, a messenger was despatched to Greenwich with a letter to Sir Harry Guildford, placing in his hands the documents copied by the young priest, and asking him to seek a favourable opportunity of laying them before the Vicar-General, who was also my Lord Privy Seal, and held other offices under the King, so that he was now almost as powerful a statesman as Wolsey had been in the height of his power.

Having despatched his letter, and assured Margery and Cicely that he did not expect anything would come of it, he took up the task of ordering his enlarged household. He found, to his great astonishment, that the young priest had found a New Testament in the library of the monastery. It was a translation by Erasmus into Latin, and there was no doubt that the words of life had taken root in the heart of the young man, so that to him the expulsion from the monastery had come as a release from bondage. Miles wondered how many secret disciples there were scattered up and down the country in these hot-beds of ignorance, superstition, and corruption.

But many or few, there were many who had been brought up under the conditions that ruled in these so-called religious houses, and for these some provision ought to be made. And so he resolved that, if his petition was granted, and the old Paton lands again came into his possession, he would portion them out as farms among the monks who were willing to work, and would settle upon them as tenants. They should be let at a small rental, that might be paid in kind for the first year at least; but nothing was to be given. Sir Miles set his face like a flint against the old system of beggary in any shape or form; and one of the first things he asked the young priest to do, was to write, in clear, bold English letters, the injunction: "If a man will not work, neither shall he eat," and this was securely fastened up over the entrance-hall, that all who came to his door might know the rule of his household; and the servants were always ready to assure the new comers that Sir Miles enforced this rule, as well as having it written that all might read it.

A few of the monks, who had done the greater part of the farm work at the monastery, were not at all averse to taking service under Sir Miles and his steward, while others, who thought it was beneath the dignity of a monk to earn his own living, did not stay long after the funeral of the Prior. They were bent upon going to London, to see if something in the way of a pension could not be obtained from the King, that they might end their days in the idleness in which they had lived for so many years.

Sir Miles was not sorry to see these depart; and having taken care that plenty of bread and bacon were put into their wallets, he saw them set out with something like a sigh of relief, though he could not help wondering how long it would be before some of them were back again.

For Father John there was plenty to do; he could gather the children of the tenants into one of the barns, and teach them to read. He could also carry on the service in the church, which stood on the edge of the monastery grounds. It had been built for the village by one of his ancestors, so that Sir Miles considered that he had a perfect right to use this still, without waiting for the decree of the commissioners concerning the rest of the land.

However, he did not have to wait very long for this, and it was altogether more favourable than he expected. The Vicar-General would send an agent to examine the documents upon which Sir Miles Paton based his claim; and if he found them to be as they were represented, the land would be handed over to Sir Miles, upon such terms as the commissioners should deem equitable. Nor did he have to wait very long for the arrival of this agent, for in the course of the following week he came from Oxford, to test the validity and genuineness of the original parchments contained in the casket.

To his great astonishment, Sir Miles found that this man knew all about his past life, and what was going on at Paton Hall,—how he had received and treated the monks when they were expelled.

It simply amazed Sir Miles to hear how all his movements were known, until he reflected that this of espionage that was doubtless part of the system was now carried to such lengths, that no man and no home was safe from its inquisition. Fortunately for him, the Reformation, which he had helped to bring about through his help to Master Tyndale, was no longer a barrier to the favour of the King and his council; and the Vicar-General so far approved of his system of making men work wherever it was possible, that, by the advice of the council, he was ready to hand over all the land belonging to the monastery, providing he was willing to undertake that those who could work he would employ in some way or other, and that the aged, who were no longer capable of working, he would feed and nourish so long as they should live. He was also to provide a stipend for the priest of the parish, and that the said priest should also teach the children of the village the Lord's Prayer and the Ten Commandments in English, and also to teach the reading of the English tongue where it was possible.

"Why, it is just what I should desire to do!" exclaimed Sir Miles, when his visitor read over the conditions, which he understood had been drawn up by Cromwell himself. "You may assure the Vicar-General that the monastery lands shall be let out at a low rental among the monks themselves, and that they shall have all the help needful to establish themselves as yeomen among the other tenants."

"My lord knows that his will in that particular will be carried out," said his visitor; "and if we can only dispose of the other monasteries in a like fashion, it will be good for all who are concerned in the matter." He stayed for a day to see how Sir Miles had disposed of the land that had descended to him at his father's death; and the look of the thriving little homesteads, and the village itself, was an assurance to the agent that this monastery land would be well used under Sir Miles Paton.