Chapter XXIII: "guilty or Not Guilty."

A dead silence followed the reading of the dying confession of Guy, son of Roger.

The mighty Conqueror looked around, as if he would read men's hearts.

Etienne de Malville was flushed, and seemed ready to sink into the earth for shame, as though he himself were responsible for the guilt of his father.

Wilfred of Aescendune, on the other hand, looked like one whose innocence was vindicated; there was an expression of joy on his face--joy, however, so tempered by other feelings, that it could not be called exultation.

"It is a forgery--a vile and shameful forgery," cried Etienne.

"Thou didst thyself recognise the mark," said the king sternly. "We pardon thine excitement, but do not forget the presence of thine elders."

"Can I sit thus tamely, and hear my dead father accused of the vilest crimes?"

"Justice shall be done his memory--justice, neither more nor less," said the Conqueror sternly.

"I claim, then, my privilege to meet the accuser in knightly combat."

"The accuser is dead. Wilt thou go to purgatory to meet him? for we trust his penitence has saved him from going farther and faring worse. Keep silence, and do not further interrupt the course of justice. We can pity thee, believing thee to be incapable of such deeds thyself."

Then, turning to the court:

"Is there any other evidence, verbal or written, bearing upon this question?"

"There is, my liege," said Bishop Geoffrey.

"What is it?"

"A letter addressed to me by the murdered prior of St. Wilfred's Priory, who perished in the flames on the fatal night of which we have heard so much."

"Its date?"

"The night in Ascensiontide, three years agone, in which the prisoner left his stepfather's protection and made a vain attempt to reach me at Oxenford, striving to bear the missive of which this is a copy."

"And the original?"

"Fell into the possession of the late baron, his stepfather, after Eustace, Count of Blois, had borne the lad back again by force."

"Hast thou satisfied thyself of the authenticity of the copy?"

"I have; it was attested by Prior Elphege himself, in the presence of the Benedictine from whom I received it."

"Then read the letter."

And amidst breathless attention, Geoffrey read:

Elphege, prior of the house of St. Wilfred at Aescendune, to the noble prelate Geoffrey, Bishop of Coutances, now resident at Oxenford, sendeth greeting.

It will not have escaped thy remembrance, most holy father in God, that on the fatal field of Senlac--fatal, that is, to my countrymen, for I am not ashamed to call myself an Englishman--thou didst favourably notice a youth, who sought and found his father's dead body, by name Wilfred, son of Edmund of Aescendune.

Nor wilt thou forget that thou didst intercede for the boy that he might retain his ancestral possessions, which boon thou didst only obtain at the cost of his widowed mother's marriage with Hugo, Lord of Malville, outre mer.

It was then settled that the two boys, Etienne de Melville and Wilfred of Aescendune, thereby thrown together, should each inherit the lands and honours of their respective sires; but that, should the latter die, the united estates should fall to Etienne de Malville, did he still survive.

In this arrangement, we naturally saw danger to our own precious charge--for our spiritual child he was--Wilfred of Aescendune.

His mother died the year after the Conquest, and passed, as we thought, happily from a world of sin and sorrow.

The boy, at first disconsolate with grief, recovered his health and spirits after awhile, and if allowed to live, might assuredly grow to man's estate, and perpetuate his ancient line.

If allowed, I say, for we have just received evidence that the mother was poisoned, and we tremble with horror lest the boy should share her fate.

This evidence is in the form of a dying confession, which, at the request of the poor penitent, we have written with pen and ink.

When thou hast read it, for the love of God and of His saints, especially of our father Benedict, stretch forth thine hand and protect the unhappy bearer, the youthful lord of Aescendune.

We commend him with all confidence to thy care.

Given at St. Wilfred's priory, in the octave of Ascension, 1068.

"Hear ye the confession enclosed," said Geoffrey.

It is five years since I fled the face of my lord, Edmund of Aescendune, for I had slain his red deer, and sold them for filthy lucre, and I feared to meet his face; so I fled to the great city, even London, where I was like to starve, till a Jew, who saw my distress, took pity on me, and gave me shelter.

His name was Abraham of Toledo, and he was mighty in magic arts, and in compounding of deadly drugs to slay, or medicines to keep alive. He made me his servant, and I, albeit a Christian man, soon learned to do the bidding of the devil at his command.

One day there came a Norman noble, and bought of my master a liquid, which would cause those who drank but one drop, daily, to die of deadly decline within the year. I heard the bargain made as I was compounding some drugs within a recess of my master's chamber. No sooner was the man gone than Abraham descended the stairs, calling for me. I managed to reach him without raising his suspicions, when he bade me follow the retreating stranger, not yet out of sight in the gloom, and learn his name. I did so; it was Hugo de Malville, the new lord of Aescendune.

I knew of his marriage, and felt sure whom he wanted to destroy; but I dared not show myself at home. At length an incurable disease seized me, and I determined to unburden my conscience, and dragged myself here, only to learn that the sweet lady of Aescendune had died within the year, with all the symptoms of rapid decline, and upon my sod I charge Hugo de Malville with the murder.

Given in the infirmary of the house of St. Wilfred, in the month of May, 1068.

This dying confession was made in our hearing this day.

Elphege, Prior.

Ceadda, Sub-Prior,

Tuesday in Oct., Asc., in the year of grace, 1068.

After a moment's silence, Odo of Bayeux, the Conqueror's half brother, and a hateful oppressor of the poor English, rose up:

"This letter does not afford any absolute proof of the guilt of our departed brother in arms, Hugo of Aescendune. He may have bought the liquid; there is no proof he administered it--people die of decline daily."

"May I produce and question a witness before the court," said Geoffrey, "in the absence of the prisoner?"

"Certainly," replied William.

A signal was given to an expectant usher of the court. Wilfred was led out, and in a few moments two wardens entered in charge of another prisoner.

He was tall and haggard; a long beard descended to his waist. His peculiar nose--the most marked characteristic of his race, long and beak-shaped, yet not exactly aquiline--marked the Jew. He looked anxiously around.

"Thou art Abraham of Toledo?"

The Hebrew bowed submissively.

"A compounder of poisons?"

"Say rather of medicines, lord; for the making of one is the rule--of the other, the exception."

"Thou dost not deny the accusation, which places thy life at the mercy of the court?"

"I will own all, and throw myself on its mercy, trusting that the relief I have oft afforded in bodily anguish, maybe allowed to atone, in its measure, for any aid my fears may have driven me to lend to crime."

"It is thine only chance, Jew, to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

"I am at your lordship's disposal."

"Didst thou ever deal with Hugo, sometime lord of Malville. and afterwards of Aescendune?"

"Once only."

"On what occasion?"

"He sought a medicine."

"A medicine?" said Geoffrey, sternly; "thou triflest."

"Nay!--a poison, I would have said."

"Of what specific nature?"

"To produce the symptoms of decline--the patient would sink and die."

"What was the appearance of the poison?"

"Dropped in water it diffused at first a sapphire hue, but after exposure to the air the hue of the ruby succeeded."

"Didst thou know the purpose for which he bought the drug?"

"My lord, I did not, nor do I know now; my humble occupations do not lead me amongst the mighty of the land, save when they seek my humble shop."

"Still thine offence, Jew," said the stern voice of the Conqueror, "is a damnable one, and lendest itself readily to the purposes of crime.

"Let the unbeliever be removed in custody.

"My lord of Canterbury, he is a heretic--perchance a sorcerer; let the Church see to him."

And so the poor Jew was removed to his dungeon.

"And now with your favour," said Geoffrey, "I would ask a few questions of the prisoner, in your presence."

"The permission is given," said William.

Wilfred was again conducted before the court.

"Thou hast dared to brand thy late stepfather as the poisoner of thy mother; wilt thou state any cause or justification thou mayest have, over and above that indicated by the letter and confession we have read?"

"I did not dream of such guilt before I heard that confession, months after the death of my mother."

"Hadst thou ever seen medicine administered to her?"

"Frequently, by the baron her second husband himself. He called it the elixir of life, and stated he had obtained it at a high price, from a noted Jewish physician."

"What was its colour?"

"A drop only was let fall into water, which it tinged with a greenish hue, as of a sapphire."

"Didst thou mark any peculiarity?"

"On one occasion, when, owing to very sudden sickness, the medicine was not taken, my sister and I marked with surprise, that the medicine thus diluted had changed to a crimson colour."

General sensation. Etienne hid his face in his mantle; the churchman and nobles conferred together. William spoke:

"Thou hast thy lesson perfect, boy. Didst thou ever see this Jew Abraham?"

"Never; or he had not lived to tell thee."

"Then there is no possible collusion between the witnesses--I appeal to thee, my lord of Coutances?"

"None; I will answer for it as a bishop. It was a providential thought, which led me to interrogate the Jew respecting the appearance of the medicine, and one utterly unpremeditated."

"Remove the prisoner," said the king.

While Wilfred was absent, William conferred with his lords spiritual and temporal. This was no court wherein the popular element found place; the whole issue of the trial lay with the mighty chieftain--the rest were but his consultees.

We will not record the deliberations, only their result.

After half an hour had passed--a time of dread suspense to the prisoner--Wilfred was again summoned to the bar.

William addressed him:

"We have duly considered thy case, Wilfred of Aescendune, and fully acquit thee of the guilt of sacrilege, while we also admit that there were causes, which might go far to justify thy rebellion against thy stepfather, and to mitigate the guilt of armed resistance to thy king.

"We are not met to judge thy stepfather; he has been called to a higher and an unerring tribunal, and there we leave him, satisfied that the Judge of all the earth will do right.

"For thee--the guilt of rebellion and of bearing arms against thy king for three whole years has to be expiated; but if thou art willing to take the oath of allegiance on the spot, and bind thyself to discharge the duties of a subject to his king, we will consider thy case favourably, and perchance restore thee, under certain conditions, to thy ancestral possessions. Speak, what sayest thou--dost thou hesitate?"

Every eye was fixed on the prisoner.

He stood there, firm as a rock, and looked bravely into that face whose frown so few could bear.

"My lord of Normandy," he said, "by birth I owe thee no allegiance, and I cannot acknowledge that thy masterful and bloody conquest of an unoffending people has given thee any right to demand it. I cannot betray the cause for which my father bled and died, or ally myself to my mother's murderers. You have acquitted me of deeper guilt. I can now die for my country without shame."

The Conqueror heard him patiently to the end.

"Thou knowest, then, thine inevitable fate?"

"I accept it. Ye have robbed me of all which made life worth living."

"Thou must die, then: but we spare thee torture or mutilation. Prepare to meet the headsman within the castle yard, at the third sun-rising after this day--

"and, my lord of Coutances, since you have taken so much interest in this young English rebel, we charge thee with the welfare of his soul."

And the court broke up.