THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT

 
 - ^^V-.. Jtace, ie -wifn me f Arc ye 
 mocking me, rascals ? " 
 
 Chapter JX ~
 
 THE WAYFARERS LIBRARY 
 
 PILGRIMAGE 
 
 C. E. Lawrence 
 
 LONDON: J.M.DENT & SONS LT? 
 NEW YORK E.PDUTTON & C9.
 
 PR 
 
 TO 
 
 LADY GREGORY 
 
 IN GRATITUDE FOR HER 
 
 HELPFUL CANDOUR, ENCOURAGEMENT, 
 
 AND INESTIMABLE FRIENDSHIP.
 
 FIRST EDITION ..... May 1907 
 REPRINTED ..... August 1907 
 SECOND EDITION .... July 1914
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I. GENESIS 5 
 
 II. ALYS . . . . . . .14 
 
 III. COWL AND MOTLEY ..... 24 
 
 IV. PILATE'S QUESTION 37 
 
 V. COMMENCEMENT OF THE QUEST ... 54 
 
 VI. ULF'S ANSWER ...... 67 
 
 VII. LILITH COMPLETES THE PROBLEM . . 79 
 VIII. AN APPEAL TO WISDOM .... 85 
 
 IX. " PERUEL! PERUEL! " .... 99 
 
 X. JOHN AND JEROME . . . . in 
 
 XI. ALTERNATIVES . . . . . .122 
 
 XII. EXPELLED . . - . . . . .134 
 
 XIII. A FOOL AND HIS MONEY . . . .145 
 
 XIV. DREAMS AND IDEALS . . . . 155 
 XV. LORDS IN THE FOREST . . . .166 
 
 XVI. FRIENDS OF THE FRIENDLESS . . .181 
 XVII. EARL'S MAN . . . . . .193 
 
 XVIII. DRUDGERY AND DISILLUSION . . . 204 
 XIX. RECOGNITION . . . . . -215 
 
 XX. THE TRIAL OF CHIVALRY .... 226 
 
 XXI. ULF SAYS Benedicite ..... 241 
 
 XXII. EXIT ALYS 252 
 
 XXIII. ONE WITH LAZARUS ..... 265 
 
 XXIV. PERUEL FINDS THE GATE . . . -275
 
 PILGRIMAGE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 GENESIS 
 
 THERE was mist over Argovie on a mid-winter 
 evening, scores on scores of years ago; a mist 
 which made most of the habitants of the fortunate 
 country who happened not to be within-doors, feel 
 grey and wretched. The waning moon was lost 
 in the clouds ; no stars were visible ; the night was 
 raw and dark. 
 
 The bell at the monastery of the Holy Saint 
 Dunstan rang curfew. Its gentle tones, floating 
 over wet fields and solitary homesteads, reminded 
 the folk who squatted by hearths or early to bed 
 lay snugly awake among the rushes, of the 
 brethren in the great ecclesiastical house who were 
 then for them and as ever raising suppliant 
 hands to God. 
 
 The call of the bell woke the winds, which sighed 
 and strained; and then, as they gathered force, 
 uncouthly sang. 
 
 5
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 The mist and clouds were eventually blown 
 away. The moon no longer hid a veiled face, but 
 shone over the dark wet land, and with the 
 stars made the night beautiful with a wasted 
 beauty. 
 
 Two worn wayfarers a man and a woman 
 toiled along a road of mire. It was heavy work 
 wading through that rutted, flooded thoroughfare, 
 and the man said so frequently. The woman who 
 painfully followed him was generally silent, but 
 now and then she ventured a protest. She was 
 indeed in sorry case. 
 
 At last she sank by the side of the road, and 
 leaned back against a bush, exhausted. 
 
 " On, you jade! " cried her companion, a rude 
 fellow, an unemployed soldier, in tarnished semi- 
 martial garments. 
 
 The woman shook her head despondently. 
 
 " On, on! " iterated the man, " this is no place 
 of lodgment! " 
 
 With a great effort the poor creature rose, and 
 clinging heavily to him, pulled herself painfully 
 along. He bore the burden for some little time 
 patiently; but then became suddenly impatient 
 and shook her off. She leaned against a long, 
 squat, wooden shed, fortunately there. 
 
 The discharged warrior, the same moment, 
 caught sight of the monastery over the brow of the
 
 Genesis 
 
 hill. The great gilt cross shone spectral in the 
 moonlight. 
 
 " Ha ! " he cried, a new hopeful note in his voice. 
 "A house of religious! A candle to St. Joshua 
 for that pretty picture! A weary man-at-arms, 
 who has fought for his country and sweet religion, 
 gets warmth and rest. If I can I will send for 
 you; and, if I can't, you can stay where you are, 
 idle jade. Perhaps your legs will move more 
 willingly on the morrow." 
 
 Leaving his almost insensible companion with- 
 out further word he strode sturdily to the place of 
 assured hospitality. 
 
 After waiting in the cold and loneliness for a 
 very long while, her pain growing every moment 
 greater, the deserted woman became desperate. 
 She rose and, groping along the weather-worn 
 wooden wall, came to a door against which she 
 pushed heavily, again and again. At last rotted 
 fastenings gave way, she lurched into the building. 
 It was quite dark. No moonlight penetrated there. 
 But it was warmer and drier in that mysterious 
 hostel than out in the world, and she did not fear 
 the unseen creatures whose restlessness now and 
 then rustled the straw. 
 
 She forgot her many diverse miseries in the 
 greater pain. 
 
 7
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 The voices of the winds grew louder, their song 
 more discordant. Presently blended with them 
 rose an infant's quavering cry. 
 
 Gradually as the hours marched ghostily by 
 the winds grew quieter : the new-born mortal, also, 
 ceased its plaint. 
 
 The mists rose once more from the marshes, 
 hiding the stars. The clouds, emboldened, crept 
 over the sky again, shrouding the moon, making 
 the darkness of the earth complete. Then fol- 
 lowed the silence of the night, the silence of sleep. 
 
 When Kelp the swineherd on the morrow went 
 to pay the customary early visit to his charges, it 
 was with no satisfaction that he saw the door of 
 the great sty open. He was, in truth, sore afraid 
 lest thieves or wolves had stolen or killed some of 
 the swine. In that case there would be angry 
 questioning from his monastic masters. 
 
 His anxiety was soon at rest. His practised 
 eye ranging along the lines of sprawling monsters 
 found all there and uninjured. Then, who or 
 what had caused the breakage of the door? 
 
 He soon saw evidence that some one had been 
 there in the night. There was in the filth more 
 than one human footmark: he could see, too, 
 from the freshness of the marks near the door that 
 the intruder had not long since been gone. He
 
 Genesis 
 
 went to the entrance and looked up and down the 
 road ; but there was no one in sight to break the 
 loneliness of the misty morning. 
 
 Kelp ceased to speculate and busied himself 
 with his menial duties. Suddenly he started, 
 stood stiffly upright, and exclaimed: 
 
 " Mother o' saints! what is here? " 
 
 An unusual sight for a pig-sty. Kelp scratched 
 his hairy jaw in amazement, and knit his brows, 
 perplexed. "Mercy o' me!" cried he, "here's 
 very fine work for a winter night ! Who put you 
 there, poor brat? " 
 
 A new-born infant was lying in a nest of foul 
 straw. A wretched little red mite he was, with 
 lips pursed together and lead-coloured eyes blink- 
 ing foolishly at a white line of sky which appeared 
 through a chink in the ceiling. He was kept 
 warm by a sow a panting monster of flesh 
 which sprawled beside him; an odious beast, but, 
 for the deserted weakling, a fortunate bed-fellow. 
 The warmth of the swine's body kept life in that 
 of the child. 
 
 Kelp contemplated the infant for a few moments. 
 Suddenly throwing into a corner the wooden 
 rake he had been using, he hurried to the cottage 
 in the hollow hard by to fetch Mause, his wife and 
 work-fellow. 
 
 Though eagerness and excitement caused him 
 9 A2
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 to fumble his words, he soon told her of the 
 discovery. 
 
 The Samaritans entered the door of the great 
 sty together. The babe was still lying quietly in 
 his foul cradle, blinking foolishly at the ceiling 
 streak of sky. 
 
 Mause uttered the woman's pitying cry. 
 
 " Some wastrel's whelp! " quoth the swineherd 
 gruffly. 
 
 " A motherless babe! " said Mause, as tenderly 
 raising the now whimpering foundling, she undid 
 her own poor clothing, and snuggled him kindly 
 in the warmth of her bosom. 
 
 So a hero God save the word! was born in 
 Argovie ; his first cradle, straw in a palace of pigs, 
 the property of the monks of St. Dunstan. So the 
 motherless offspring of worthless, feckless parents 
 found a father and mother, who, though poor in 
 world's wealth to the very extreme, were yet rich 
 in heaven's wealth kindness and charity. 
 
 Kelp's son, as the foundling came to be called, 
 was christened Luke ; and, as was meet for a child 
 so severely tried at the beginning of life, he throve 
 and prospered. 
 
 He lived heart and hand with Nature, and 
 Nature loved him. Mause often asserted her 
 
 belief that he was fairy's child. 
 
 10
 
 Genesis 
 
 Soon after he was able to walk he went with 
 Kelp to help in tending the swine, and accom- 
 panied them to the forests where they poked 
 for food, or fed on the acorns which strewed the 
 autumn avenues. While Kelp watched the pigs 
 at their groping and sleeping, the little Luke 
 played happily in childhood's holiday. 
 2 He come to know the truths of Nature as only 
 one who has lived, morning, noon, and night, in 
 the midst of her freedom, can know them. Flowers 
 budded and bloomed, and Luke watched their 
 history, till the petals faded, or fell in fruitfulness. 
 He knew the particular notes of every bird which 
 chirped, fluted, or sang; and had, through bread 
 kindness, many a feathered friend, wild to every- 
 body but him. 
 
 His very dear companions were the trees. For 
 hours he would sit silent on a bough, watching the 
 sunlight playing on the fluttering leaves, listening 
 to the music of the wind among the branches, 
 thinking dreaming of the manifold wonders of 
 the world. There was no mystery of the all- 
 mysterious day which his little mind did not try 
 to fathom. He was a true child, a persevering 
 inquirer; an infant grandfather of science. 
 
 Especially did he love at the evening hour to 
 clamber to some high tree-top to watch the sun 
 set, and have wondering thoughts about that 
 
 ii
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 strange other-world whereto the great, swelling, 
 golden orb of life and luminance drifted for sleep. 
 
 Then when darkness had come, and the moon 
 and stars were shining, his speculations still 
 further increased in range. The stars were to 
 him, in those early days, holes in the floor of 
 heaven, the ceiling of the earth; the moon was a 
 silver ship wherein angels were sailing. How he 
 longed to be sailing with them in that shining 
 vessel ! Hours upon hours he spent staring at the 
 stars, wishing he could peep within those tantalis- 
 ing, twinkling holes, and see God on His throne. 
 
 The child's only instructors were Brother Hilary, 
 the bursar of the monastery, and Mause, his foster- 
 mother. The chief instruction he received from 
 them were in the dogmas and legends of the 
 Church, accompanied with kindly chidings from 
 the monk; and the more fantastic legends of the 
 world, blended with the scoldings of an affectionate 
 over-worked mother, from Mause. 
 
 This weird instruction fed the child's imagina- 
 tion, and prompted even wilder speculations and 
 dreams. He was continually brooding over the 
 problems of infant-theology, fitting the incompre- 
 hensible facts of life to the theories his untamed, 
 unchallenged, childish imagination built from the 
 fragments of religious truth supplied him by his 
 teachers. 
 
 12
 
 Genesis 
 
 Every natural fact held for him its especial 
 supernatural meaning. He believed the clouds 
 were smoke from the fires of hell ; that a rainstorm 
 was a flood of passionate tears brought from the 
 place of sorrows on the bosom of the naughty 
 clouds; that a rainbow was verily and truly an 
 archway, along which souls marched from earth to 
 heaven. Oh, how he longed to find the beginning 
 of that archway, to tread the celestial way ! 
 
 For ten untroubled years the simple, wise child 
 lived with Kelp and Mause, and learnt the first 
 lessons of life. Those ten years had no history. 
 
 Luke's life story practically began when little 
 Alys, the tiny, yellow-haired daughter of Godfrey, 
 chief huntsman to Earl Rudolph, the lord of the 
 district, having strayed into the forest, entered 
 his life. 
 
 .Alys was not in the least afraid of any person, 
 or of the real or imaginary monsters of the wood. 
 
 " Who are you, dirty boy? " she asked. Luke 
 was so enchanted with her young beauty, and the 
 royal manner in which her minute ladyship 
 addressed him, that for a time he could only stare 
 and wonder; then he laughed.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 ALYS 
 
 LUKE was one of Nature's children; afraid of 
 nothing, save meanness and wanton cruelty. 
 Without hesitancy he accepted the new-comer into 
 the democracy of his playmates which included no 
 other earthly child, none but dream-children. She 
 was to him just one more of the infinite wonders of 
 the forest; another occupant of fancy's brilliant 
 realm, sharing existence with flowers, fairies, and 
 the other happinesses met by him in vision- 
 wanderings through the mystic wonderlands of 
 religion and sleep. 
 
 Alys was not one of Nature's children. She 
 was as artificial a maid as it was possible to find in 
 the simple land of Argovie. 
 
 At first she received Luke's confidence and 
 laughter with young haughtiness and the sem- 
 blance of offence ; but]soon the original, natural talk 
 of the brown-skinned boy, and the brightness of 
 intelligence in his deep-grey eyes the redemp- 
 tion of an ugly face wore away prejudices, and 
 caused her to forget his rags and his unaffected 
 air of equality. 
 
 14
 
 Alyj 
 
 She condescended to listen to his gossip about 
 the pigs, his comrades ; and then told him some- 
 thing of herself how she was the daughter of a 
 strong man who hunted and slew all manner of 
 fierce four-footed creatures; how magnificent her 
 father was in his forest-livery of brown and green ; 
 how proud, rich, and powerful was Godfrey's 
 master, the great, glad, long-bearded lord, who 
 owned oh, to her little mind how very much he 
 owned ! all the world so far as she had known it. 
 
 Luke listened with happy eagerness. Here was 
 more^food for his hungry imagination. This little 
 maid had brought new folk to people the countries 
 of his dreams. She sat in prim stateliness beside 
 him on a felled tree-trunk, and told all she knew 
 of her life and the important, unimportant people 
 she^dwelt among. 
 
 As she sat there talking, heedless of all but her 
 tale, Luke gazed and wondered. Now he knew 
 how Titania looked; but Titania, in her most 
 royal and fairy moments, could not have excelled 
 in beauty this huntsman's daughter. So he told 
 himself. 
 
 It was the hour of evening, when even the ugli- 
 nesses of the earth, through the mellow luminance 
 of the setting sun, take on temporary beauty. As 
 the sun-rays, lighting the maid, illumined the 
 little face and form, Alys looked lovely indeed.
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 The prim linen cap, the golden hair which hung 
 about her brow and ears and touched her neck, 
 the blue eyes, the red lips, soft skin, and small 
 white teeth; the simple green frock, the brown 
 hands clasped on her knee, the small shoes of 
 untanned leather, combined to make for Luke a 
 memorable picture. 
 
 " Do you know any angels? " he asked, quite 
 honestly. 
 
 "No," she answered with simplicity similar to 
 his. " Old Uncle Noel, our priest, keeps them 
 locked in the chapel. Do you? " 
 
 "I? No. I'm too wicked." 
 
 "Are you?" she asked, and edged slightly 
 away from him. 
 
 Luke prodded the soft mould with his brown 
 toes as he talked, and she, in her turn peeping at 
 him, thought " What a dirty boy! " 
 
 He was lost in humble contemplation for some 
 long minutes. " Yes, I am a sinner! Brother 
 Hilary says so often, and my mother Mause says 
 so sometimes; but Kelp, my father, thinks better 
 of me he says I have the innocent soul of a pig. 
 Father keeps the pigs of the monastery, and knows 
 them all so well from Jezebel, the big sow, to 
 Blossom, the squeaker that few men and very 
 few women, he says, are better than pigs. They 
 
 are more kind-hearted than people think. I never 
 
 16
 
 Aly* 
 
 see the angels; but I listen for them often, and 
 sometimes hear them singing by the brook when 
 the monks are chanting vespers ; and often when I 
 sit in the tree watching the sun hide behind the 
 hill I hear the noise of their wings. That is only 
 in the evening. They generally sleep in the day- 
 time so as not to see men being wicked if they 
 can help it; and fly all over the world in the 
 night when bad people are asleep and stars are 
 shining. That is when they kiss the children." 
 
 " Do they kiss the children? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Who told you? " 
 
 " Whispers." 
 
 " Do they kiss me? " she asked, looking with 
 large dilating eyes at the boy. 
 
 Throughout his life he remembered those eyes 
 and that moment. 
 
 " You know they do! " 
 
 " Oh! " said she, and blushed. 
 
 "Oh! " said he, and blushed too. The con- 
 versation was getting beyond their years. 
 
 To banish the mutual embarrassment he passed 
 for a time from conversation to activity. He 
 showed her how cleverly he could climb a tree, 
 and swung from the branches with an indifference 
 to danger which made her quake. 
 
 Then, having played sufficiently on her anxiety,
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 he came down, bringing with him as peace- 
 offering, a squirrel. The small prisoner peered 
 with keen, beady eyes at the temporary master 
 and mistress of its fate; and when it was given 
 liberty went without eagerness, for the grasp of 
 the boy had been very gentle, and the creature 
 was too ignorant of men to be frightened. 
 
 The instinct of hospitality came suddenly to 
 Luke. He thrust his hand into the rough satchel 
 which was slung across his shoulder and offered 
 her bread, nuts, and acorns. She was suspicious 
 of the acorns, not having tasted that kind of fruit 
 before; but soon was munching the better kinds 
 of food cautiously. For a little while appetite 
 displaced speech. 
 
 Presently they talked again of all-important 
 trivialities, till after a while Alys said, " Have you 
 any legends? Boy, tell me a story." 
 
 He told her one or two of the tales of saints 
 folk-lore swathed in a halo of mediaeval sanctity 
 which he had heard Mause and her gossips telling 
 on winter nights, while they crouched round the 
 crackling fire in the darkened room. But Alys 
 did not care for saints, she wanted to hear of 
 knights and dragons. She cared not for ascetic 
 heroes or prayerful heroism; but liked much love 
 and a little fighting. 
 
 Luke had no knight-and-dragon stories; but 
 18
 
 Alyi 
 
 he had wits, and for a small silent while cudgelled 
 them for a theme. So long was the period of 
 silent meditation that Alys grew impatient. 
 
 Luke had only the faintest knowledge of the 
 wonderful world of which Alys wanted to hear; 
 but, spurred by her too evident impatience, he 
 tumbled into the task of tale-telling on his own 
 account. The tale told him, rather than he 
 the tale. 
 
 " There was a wonderful great lord," he said, 
 " who lived in a great house a palace of gold, 
 and flowers, and shining whiteness." 
 
 " I should like to see that house! " 
 
 " And the knights and huntsmen of this great 
 lord, and their ladies, they never did anything evil, 
 but killed bad men, and hunted cruel animals, and 
 loved the flowers, and made the palace happy. 
 They were all so good that evil men were fright- 
 ened of them, and did not dare go near the palace. 
 If they met the great lord or any of his knights in 
 the wood, they fled and hid behind the bushes, 
 hoping to escape from him. But always they 
 hated themselves because they were such cowards, 
 and always they wanted to enter the palace to 
 see the pictures which were there. But they 
 dared not go to the gate, and whenever they saw 
 it the gate was all silver, flashing like sunshine 
 they ran away." 
 
 19
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " Why didn't they creep in at night-time? " 
 
 " Because because the great lord kept lamps 
 burning round the palace, and the gate and 
 windows were all guarded by knights. But early 
 one day a bad man, who was tired of being wicked, 
 was bold enough to run to the gate and put his 
 hand on the silver bugle that hung before it. He 
 put the bugle to his lips and blew, but no sound 
 came. He blew, and blew, and blew; but no 
 sound ever came; and yet it was just like his own 
 black bugle and he could always sound that. 
 Then he tried to force himself between the silver 
 bars, to get into the palace that way; but he 
 could not do so. It was as if hands which he 
 could not see were always pushing him back. At 
 last, he sorrowed with despair, and sat on the 
 white steps and wept. The moment he wept, 
 a knight, very stern, appeared on the wall 
 above. 
 
 " ' Why are you here? ' he asked. 
 
 " The enemy who wanted to be a friend 
 answered, ' I must come in and live in your 
 palace. It is like being dead to live outside.' 
 
 " ' You willed it,' said the knight very sternly." 
 
 " What did the cruel, good knight mean by 
 saying, ' You willed it ' ? " asked Alys. 
 
 " He meant, I suppose, that the bad man had 
 done wrong against the great lord, and so, of course, 
 
 20
 
 Alyj 
 
 could not live in the palace, where there were 
 only his friends. 
 
 ' I am very, very sorry,' said the bad man. 
 
 '"Go away and show that you are/ answered 
 the stern knight. So the bad man went to the 
 wild wilderness; but before he said good-bye to 
 the silver gate he put his hand inside the bars and 
 plucked some flowers to keep for good remem- 
 brance." 
 
 "Yes, and then?" 
 
 " He went into the wilderness." 
 
 "Yes, and then?" 
 
 " That is all," answered Luke, puzzled. 
 
 " No, no, tell me more. He went into the 
 wilderness and killed lions and dragons, and 
 rescued a lovely princess who looked like me; and 
 then went back, and the great lord opened the 
 gate himself, gave him a lovely robe, and made 
 him a knight. He married the princess, who 
 turned out to be the great lord's daughter, and 
 lived to kill many bad men. Is that not so ? " 
 
 " I really do not know." 
 
 " Oh, you are a silly boy ! All stories must end 
 in some way." 
 
 " Yes, but I don't know the ending of that one." 
 
 " But you were making it up ? " 
 
 "Yes I was making it up; but I couldn't 
 make up any more." 
 
 21
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " Well, tell me another." 
 
 " No, let us listen for angels' wings." So they 
 set themselves deliberately to their exalted pur- 
 pose, and were very, very still. 
 
 Slowly the sun went down. Slowly his legacy 
 of small pink clouds passed, leaving only the 
 greyness of twilight behind. The children, for- 
 getful of the flight of day, still sat side by side, 
 eagerly listening for the sough of passing angels' 
 wings. 
 
 Luke was roused from his reverie, and Alys 
 frightened by the sound of Kelp's rough voice. 
 
 " Naughty brat! " he said, as he saw the boy 
 sitting on the tree-trunk. " Your mother is 
 anxious about you. Why are you still squatting 
 there? " Then, catching sight of Alys, he cried, 
 " Ah, small maid, who are you? " 
 
 Alys suddenly felt lonely and frightened at 
 sight of the swineherd, who certainly with his 
 tanned skin, naked arms and legs, feet in buskins, 
 and matted hair and beard was no god of beauty. 
 
 But the gaunt man knew how to be gentle. 
 
 " Do not be afraid," he said softly, as he raised 
 her and seated the little girl on his shoulder. 
 " Are you lost? Where do you live? " 
 
 As she did not answer, Luke said, " Her father 
 is huntsman to Lord Rudolph." 
 
 " Oh, your father is big Godfrey, eh? " 
 
 22
 
 Alys 
 
 " Yes, man," answered Alys. 
 
 " Then we shall soon find him. Take hold of 
 my hair! " he said. 
 
 Alys clutched the tangled locks to steady her- 
 self, and Kelp began his two-mile journey through 
 the forest towards Godfrey's home. 
 
 " Good-bye! " Luke called out to her. 
 
 " Go home! " was all the answer he received 
 from Kelp. 
 
 That was Luke's farewell for many a day to 
 Alys the daughter of Godfrey. He did not stir 
 while there was the possibility of seeing the strayed 
 fairy, his foster-father's burden. At last the two 
 passed into the darkness, and the boy went 
 slowly home.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 COWL AND MOTLEY 
 
 DURING the following year Kelp died, and was 
 laid to rest in a corner of the graveyard where, in 
 humble equality, the monks and lay-servants of 
 the great house were buried. Luke, child though 
 he was, became swineherd in place of his foster- 
 father, and daily drove the pigs to and from their 
 pastures in the adjacent forests. 
 
 He had in full measure shared the love of Kelp 
 for his charges. He knew the creatures all, from 
 the herd's patriarch to the smallest member, and 
 appreciated and sympathised with each one's 
 individuality; for pigs, as men, have their frets 
 and fancies, and the test of the true swineherd 
 is to know the particular idiosyncrasies of their 
 charges. 
 
 The boy was perfectly proud of his occupation, 
 and rejoiced in its responsibility. Although the 
 other herdsmen and servants of the monastery 
 looked with various degrees of contempt on the 
 keeper of pigs, Luke was as Kelp had been 
 
 in his unaffected simplicity, happily superior 
 
 24
 
 Cowl and Motley 
 
 to their superiority. So Mause and he remained 
 the monks' tenants, and the days sped fleetly. 
 The seasons came and went, the unregarded years 
 crept by. 
 
 Although the years went by unregarded, with 
 no eventful history, they were a period of proba- 
 tion and continuous development to Luke. He 
 had no book-learning to speak of, nor any eager- 
 ness even to set eyes on the treasures in the 
 scriptorium, of which, indeed, he had only vaguely 
 heard; but his mind was keen, his eyes alert; 
 there was little of natural life he was not well- 
 acquainted with. And always he was dreaming 
 of the world invisible elfs and angels were his 
 day-long companions. 
 
 To him in those free days this world of reality 
 was in truth the unreal world this earthly exist- 
 ence was far more a fancy and a vision than the 
 weird country of his day-dreams. Imagination 
 lent enchantment to every object in life: all the 
 individuals ofj Argovie whom Luke knew, he 
 idealised and how little they deserved it! But 
 the boy was the happier for being an idealist 
 during those young, untroubled years. 
 
 Luke's best-known acquaintances after Mause, 
 who sacrificed herself to the dull god household- 
 work were, to outward seeming, a strangely- 
 contrasted pair. How far they differed within is 
 
 25
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 known only to the Giver of souls. Probably the 
 difference was not so great. 
 
 A big-browed, thin-faced monk walked slowly 
 through the wood which skirted the southern 
 boundary of the monastery lands. He was no 
 shaveling, for his head needed no razor. Baldness 
 supplied him with a more than adequate tonsure. 
 He strode along; hands clasped behind him. His 
 eyes were small and narrow, through them no 
 glimpse of the soul could be gained; they hid 
 and not displayed the light within. The thin lips 
 drooped at the corners, for Brother Hilary was a 
 disappointed man, and had the reputation, among 
 the monks at least, of being morose and sour. He 
 was the loneliest brother in the monastery, and the 
 least loved. Yet Luke had for him an affection 
 felt for none of the others; the boy knew that his 
 sourness was only the mask of sweetness of heart ; 
 that the rasping tongue, when there was necessity, 
 could utter words of healing and comforting. 
 
 Brother Hilary had been Luke's instructor, and 
 though able to teach him little more than the 
 ordinary store of mediaeval ignorance, had through 
 his companionship raised and stimulated him. 
 The dreams of the swineherd were nobler and 
 more exalted because of the trend of Hilary's 
 teaching and the influence of his personality. 
 
 When the monk, a brown figure, wandering in 
 26
 
 Cowl and Motley 
 
 meditation through the wood, came upon Luke, 
 the boy was sitting on the low bough of a tree, 
 switching with leafy branch the bristly back of a 
 hog which nosed laboriously about the decayed 
 vegetation. 
 
 " Lazy lad! " said the monk. 
 
 " The wasps have been teasing Hilary ! I am 
 giving him comfort." 
 
 " Wasps ? Hilary ? Who ? " 
 
 " That's his name." 
 
 "The hog's? " 
 
 " Yes, Father. He he's the best of the 
 herd!" 
 
 " Oh," mumbled the monk gazing curiously 
 at the boy. " Who gave the beast that 
 name? " 
 
 " I did, Father. I like him." 
 
 "Oh! " growled the other once again. " Are 
 you the name-giver? " 
 
 '' I name them all." 
 
 " After the reverend brethren? " 
 
 " No, Father. I only call the most respectable 
 swine by the reverend names. Hilary is the best 
 of the company." 
 
 "Oh!" The pig's reverend namesake con- 
 tinued his way musing; there was the suggestion 
 of a smile about the lips, leaving Luke once more 
 to his humble employment and the luminous 
 
 27
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 thoughts which flashed in endless procession 
 through his brain. 
 
 The boy, although neither he nor any one else 
 was aware of it, had built for himself, out of 
 the material of earth-things, a cathedral of glow- 
 ing idylls. Its ceiling, the crystal blue of the 
 sky; its walls, the hills and trees; its floor, the 
 grass and rivers; it was a building, mind-made, 
 infinite in expanse; and Luke in his simple 
 splendid isolation alone lived within it. His 
 utter unworldliness, and pure exaltation, kept 
 him solitary. There was no other man, woman, 
 or child like him in that earlier chapter of the 
 Argovian world. Yet was he, with all his humi- 
 lity and exaltedness, a natural boy, with the 
 simple hopes and ambitions of natural boy- 
 hood. 
 
 Luke proved his naturalness and humanity ; for 
 his best hopes and thoughts came to be clustered 
 mainly about a girl, a girl idealised. The bright 
 picture of little Alys, which had gladdened and 
 glorified a bygone autumn afternoon, remained 
 with him an unfading picture painted with living 
 colours on the tablets of his mind. Wherever he 
 went that bright young creature also wandered, 
 and grew with him. In his most royal dreams 
 dazzling were those dreams sometimes she shared 
 
 his throne, or, more frequently, knew him as her 
 
 28
 
 Cowl and Motley 
 
 loyal subject, and accepted his reverences with 
 appropriate majesty. 
 
 Since the vision of Her had first come, he had 
 gone through the natural stages of childhood and 
 hobbledehoyhood. His mind alone had never 
 been hobbledehoy. As his faculty for idealising 
 had grown, so the picture of the Perfect She grew 
 in glory, increased with every perfection ; until it 
 was as far beyond Alys as the heroes of the golden 
 age were, in their attributes, superior to ordinary 
 men. 
 
 Luke's second friend, Ulf, was that kind of sage 
 whom fools call a fool. He was jester to Earl 
 Rudolph, and a true, good fellow. Luke loved 
 him, and Ulf reciprocated the affection. Each 
 trusted the other completely; both swineherd and 
 jester were gentlemen. 
 
 Their acquaintance had come about casually. 
 Ulf, like Touchstone, loved meditation in a forest. 
 He rejoiced in the world's relief from the world's 
 fopperies and unrealities; and knew that in the 
 leafy loneliness he could be himself, and not the 
 ape of himself as men and his master insisted he 
 should be. 
 
 One day in his wanderings he had come upon 
 Luke, and the pair drifted from casual converse 
 into good acquaintance, from good acquaintance 
 
 into comradeship. When Ulf was alone with 
 
 29
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Luke he forgot to be a thing of quip, pun, or 
 merry inconsequence, and returned to his true self 
 a mordantly sensible man; but let Hilary or 
 some other any other human being join them, 
 and Ulf was in motley again, a bubbling fount of 
 fool-wisdom and artificial wit. 
 
 It was unfortunate for Ulf that Earl Rudolph's 
 father had one morning, long before, heard him 
 make a good joke out of season. From that 
 moment the boy was marked for the motley. His 
 natural wit had, through habit and the demands of 
 the market, been debased into a mechanical kind 
 of humour; he had become a popular jester with a 
 reputation which tended to tyrannise. Like many 
 another good clown he often hid a tired heart with 
 a glad face, and eclipsed a sigh with some smiling 
 impertinence. 
 
 His face was grey, his hair flecked with silver. 
 In his eyes was a slumbering weariness, the ghosts 
 of slain energies ; always a shadow lurked behind 
 his laughter. 
 
 Less than ten minutes after the monk had 
 passed, Luke heard the tinkling of little bells 
 which announced the approach of Ulf. At the 
 same moment there seemed to be an added 
 twittering among the birds, as though they wel- 
 comed a friend. 
 
 " Good-morrow, Lucas, enemy of Israel," rang 
 3
 
 Cowl and Motley 
 
 out Ulf's greeting. " And how are the children 
 of Ham?" 
 
 The jester ran along the avenue, leapt lightly 
 over a felled tree trunk, and, after he had prodded 
 a self-indulgent pig with his bauble, threw himself 
 on a soft bed of springy grass at the foot of an oak. 
 He lay there for a small while, breathing hard and 
 smiling. 
 
 Presently a robin which had been whistling 
 in the branches flew down and perched on his 
 foot. Ulf stuck the base of his bauble, its top 
 ornamented with a debased version of his own 
 head, into the earth, and very cautiously so 
 as not to displace red-breast raised himself to 
 a seated position. Other birds finches, tits, 
 linnets, sparrows, thrushes, starlings, blackbirds 
 were constantly arriving, until Ulf had thirty 
 to forty around him. Then from his pouch he 
 took handfuls of corn and broken bread and 
 tossed them to the birds. At once there were 
 excited squabblings and scramblings. Ulf 
 watched the business with a cynical smile. 
 "The world of men in little!" was his com- 
 ment. 
 
 One by one the birds flew away; but while the 
 jester was there, the robin remained moving or 
 perching near him. 
 
 " Lucas, son of Kelp, you live a happy life,"
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Ulf said. Luke was still wielding the leafy branch 
 to comfort the pig. 
 
 " There are worse things than being born a 
 swineherd if you have no itch for cheers," Ulf 
 continued, contemplatively. " You can be as 
 miserable as you like, and the world will not 
 pester you to make it laugh. The man who is 
 born with weakness for roaring should be his own 
 wit-maker. But here I am grumbling again. 
 Heaven chide me ! I am always grumbling ; I pray 
 your pardon! " 
 
 " Talk till you find peace in yourself, Ulf," Luke 
 answered. 
 
 " To think that out of prose-making comfort 
 may come. You are the only one who allows this 
 jaded dog to growl, without minding his growling. 
 If you had been born a monk or nun, Luke, you 
 would ere this have had sickly visions and been 
 on the straight road to canonisation. Happy 
 swineherd ! Blessed protector of pig ! The hogs, 
 your followers, really ought to be gentlemen. But 
 I will cease this plaint and complaint. What have 
 been your dreams to-day? " 
 
 " Oh, teU me of yourself, Ulf." 
 
 " No. Ulf the fool is tired of Ulf the fool." 
 
 " Tell me of yourself, Ulf, until you have growled 
 away your melancholy. The Earl has not smiled 
 at your witticisms? " 
 
 32
 
 Cowl and Motley 
 
 . " Has he not! I wish he would realise their 
 seriousness now and again. It is heart-breaking ! 
 If I read the Commandments to him he would 
 bellow because of their humour. He laughs at 
 everything I say; the worse my jokes are, the 
 more he roars. To-day I served up seven oddities 
 that are falling to pieces with age. His laughter 
 came like a burden of thunder after every one of 
 them. If he has not heard them fifty times during 
 the last five years I am a musty mummy. And 
 not only he, but the entire company of rascals who 
 eat his food and bear swords for him grinned in 
 chorus." 
 
 "Poor Ulf! Why do you serve up jokes? 
 Why not be quite serious and only utter wise 
 sayings, always. Then they would see you were 
 sage, and find a true fool to take your place." 
 
 "Happy innocence! I wish the angels had 
 laid me in Mause's cradle. A hundred times have 
 I uttered words of wisdom with all the gravity of 
 a fledged priest, and never have they laughed 
 more heartily than then. So strongly have they 
 the ha-ha disease, that they grin at everything I 
 utter, be the words foolish or true. And now my 
 growl has ended; the dog lies him down to hear 
 of the swineherd's visions." 
 
 " I have no visions; but, of course, in the soli- 
 tudes I needs must think." 
 
 33
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " Did the lady of the dreams come 
 again? " 
 
 " She did. The day which passes without one 
 visit from her is a day of clouds and dreariness. 
 She sat on that throne " Luke pointed to a 
 wild-rose bush " and wore a crown of gold, less 
 golden than the hair which shone beneath it; 
 and as I knelt before her, she touched my shoulder 
 with the point of her sceptre and said, ' Luke, 
 my one subject. Be brave man and true; and, 
 ere you die, you shall be noble knight, and perhaps 
 wear a coronet on your brow.' " 
 
 Already the swineherd felt the pressure of the 
 golden rim. The light of exaltation shone in 
 Luke's eyes. He stared with rapture at a patch 
 of blue sky which gleamed between the dark- 
 green foliage before him. He was verily in a 
 palace of dreams in his own cathedral, wherein 
 was no other man; though Ulf's feet were not so 
 far from the threshold. 
 
 The jester had no spirit of mockery within him 
 then. He entered with full sympathy into the 
 imaginings of his companion. He gazed with 
 real reverence and something of adoration at the 
 youth's sunburnt face, and honestly wished that 
 within his own soul a flame of similar inspiration 
 might be kindled. 
 
 " You have never told me her name," he said 
 34
 
 Cowl and Motley 
 
 quietly. " What name have you given the dream- 
 lady? " 
 
 Luke's rapture passed from him. He looked 
 gently down into the face of his friend, and 
 answered with the solemnity of the splendidly 
 simple. " I must not tell you her name. It is 
 enshrined here." With simple gesture he touched 
 his breast. 
 
 " Ugh! I'm tired of love's sickness, selfishness 
 and caterwauling sentiment. For ten minutes 
 yesterday there were lovers meawing under my 
 very ears. I had tried to avoid talking to any one 
 by pretending to be asleep. I snored like an 
 ambitious trumpeter; and that was my reward. 
 Her eyes are blue, I know." 
 
 " You don't ; but they are blue the colour of 
 cornflowers." 
 
 " I knew it. Girl's eyes are always blue or 
 brown to lover's sight often black to husband's. 
 Tis a sadly deceitful world. I knew a damsel 
 once. Her eyes were green as grass dirty grass, 
 and I told her so. She swore at me, spat at me, 
 hissed at me, like a cat-goose. I had uttered the 
 truth which is beyond forgiveness. Ever after- 
 wards I declared they were blue; and she nearly 
 married me! " 
 
 Luke laughed; the small spell of gloom that 
 hung over the jester was dispelled. It was a 
 
 35
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 time of happiness to both of them. The sombre- 
 ness of Ulf's spirits was never too heavy for 
 sympathy to fail to break it; light-hearted 
 converse with his unspoilt friend soon restored 
 him to normal genial content. It was the arti- 
 ficial life in the castle of the Earl and the know- 
 ledge of the waste of his own individuality which 
 depressed him. Out of doors, in Luke's society, 
 he was a renewed man.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 PILATE'S QUESTION 
 
 THEY were aware of footsteps approaching the 
 tread of sandals among crackling twigs and brittle 
 last-year leaves. Ulf seized his bauble. The 
 jester re-entered his skin. He looked round 
 archly, with pursed lips and quizzical eyes to see 
 who was coming. At the same time, the friendly 
 robin flew to a branch overhead whence he watched 
 his fellow-mortals, and now and then piped his 
 confident note. 
 
 Re-enter Brother Hilary. At sight of Ulf his 
 lips compressed more severely. The monk had 
 no love for the motley. It was, he thought, the 
 worst livery for laymen, and Ulf knew he thought 
 so. As also did Luke, but he was fully loyal to 
 his friend, and not in complete sympathy with 
 his mentor from the monastery in that respect. 
 
 Ulf rose to his feet, being nothing if not courtly 
 in the presence of a representative of Mother 
 Church; but he compromised with his inherent 
 passion for independence by leaning against a 
 
 37
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 tree, prepared for the inevitable verbal assault, 
 which was not long in coming. 
 
 " Your master hunts? " Hilary asked. 
 
 "No, truly," answered Ulf, " he is visiting the 
 Abbot of St. Anthony's." 
 
 "St. Anthony's! Then you were well-advised 
 not to go with him. The Abbot has poor humour 
 and heavy hands for merrymen." 
 
 " Truly I was well-advised I have company 
 better suited to me here. What more could fool 
 desire? " 
 
 A sparkle awoke in Hilary's eyes. In his heart 
 there was laughter, but from Luke and Ulf the 
 hilarity was hidden. 
 
 " And what does the Earl at St. Anthony's? " 
 
 " Truly I know not, unless it be to put more 
 gold into the Abbot's coffers." 
 
 "Gold, rascal?" 
 
 " Silver, also. The Church does not despise the 
 little fishes." 
 
 " You speak with a flippant tongue, fool." 
 
 " That is the fool's mark. Am I to be blamed ? 
 It is only men of learning and reverence who 
 speak with hesitation. Where else than in the 
 pulpit do we hear stuttering, and stammering, and 
 the singsong business. Truly the message which 
 they must give is too heavy for the weak mouths 
 of men? " 
 
 38
 
 Pilate's Question 
 
 " You are a shrewd fellow, Ulf." 
 
 " Ay, Father, shrewd and good," exclaimed 
 Luke enthusiastically. 
 
 " Good? That is another sort of pigeon." 
 
 " Ulf is a good man, Father. I know him best 
 of all. He should have been a priest and worn 
 the Church's livery instead of this red and yellow. 
 There is a deal of kindness and truth hidden under 
 his quaintness of speech. His thoughts are as 
 wise as yours." 
 
 " As mine? " 
 
 " As wise as any man's." 
 
 "What, Ulf the jester?" 
 
 " Yes, Father, he." 
 
 " Luke, what does this mean ? What sprite has 
 entered your wits? " 
 
 Then Ulf arising from his real self, spoke. 
 
 " Reverend Father," said he, " Luke is wrong. 
 I am neither good nor shrewd." The ring of 
 honesty in his voice grew deeper as he continued. 
 " Had I been either, I could not, should not, be 
 wielding this." He swung the bauble, while the 
 bells on his arm jingled. "It is a mad world. 
 Life itself is the chief insanity. And nothing is so 
 mad as the brainpan of the philosopher. Your 
 crack-brained jester is the only sane man; he 
 shows his sanity by not endeavouring to hide his 
 madness. Do you follow my illogic? " 
 
 39
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " I do not," said Hilary, decisively. 
 
 " I think I do a little! " Luke exclaimed. 
 
 " Oh, then you also will be wearing cap and bells 
 before the big sow has her fifth farrow. Good 
 day! God bless you, Ulf the fool." 
 
 " Will not the Reverend Father stay with two 
 of the world's sheep a little longer; or does this 
 old ram's pessimistical bleating jar his ears? " 
 Ulf asked, a new tone of entreaty in his voice. 
 
 Hilary stopped suddenly and pondered. He 
 turned, and sat by Luke on the fallen trunk; a 
 smile shone more conspicuously in his eyes, 
 though his straight lips were still set sternly. 
 
 " What then is your new humour, merryman ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 " Tell me this, Father. I can ask it of you. It 
 is a question I have long bothered my brains 
 with. Pontius Pilate asked it long ago. What 
 is truth?" 
 
 Hilary looked reflectively at the enquirer. Then 
 he said : 
 
 " Truth is what the Church teaches, my son." 
 
 " And the truths which the Church does not 
 teach, Father? " 
 
 " There are none, my son." 
 
 " Oh, that is soon settled." 
 
 " The Church has no uncertainties." 
 
 " Its preachers often have." 
 40
 
 Pilate's Question 
 
 " In their preaching, perhaps; not in their faith. 
 That is a stronghold built upon a rock." 
 
 Luke had listened to the brief abrupt colloquy 
 with curious interest. Neither of the speakers 
 was like his ordinary self. Ulf was more direct 
 than ever he had known him; his speech had 
 become quite without crotchet and conceit ; while 
 the monk, although he had spoken with confidence, 
 was more genial than was his wont. Perhaps he 
 recognized now, for the first time, the true metal 
 of Earl Rudolph's jester, and was glad to talk with 
 a man. 
 
 " Faith is a fine lady," Ulf said, " but what if 
 she ride a wrong horse? " 
 
 " Meaning, that the faith may be in what is 
 wrong? " 
 
 " Even so, Father." 
 
 " Then we return to my first answer. What 
 the Church teaches is the truth. The truth 
 cannot be wrong." 
 
 " But the Church may be wrong." 
 
 "Hush!" Brother Hilary said, as he looked 
 swiftly around. " If you were not a privileged 
 fool " his mind recognised quite well that Ulf 
 was not a fool " I should be severe on you for 
 those silly words. Do not even think the thought, 
 nor you, Luke. It is itself a sin. The Church 
 cannot be wrong, do wrong, or teach wrong. The 
 
 41 B2
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 saints and angels are our guardians. Faith may 
 be, as you say, a fine lady; but she cannot ride 
 on any horse but the right one, if the steed comes 
 out of the Church's stable." 
 
 In his eagerness, Ulf had approached the monk 
 and was standing looking down on him. He had 
 been punctuating his words with the foolish 
 bauble, which, indeed, mocked his earnestness. 
 The robin flew from the tree and perched upon his 
 shoulder, but Ulf's restlessness sent it back to the 
 bough. Hilary's eyes shone with keen intellec- 
 tual brightness. Luke forgot everything pigs 
 and dreams in the interest of this quickening 
 encounter. 
 
 " Why has the jester suddenly turned theo- 
 logian? " the monk asked. 
 
 " Because the fool has loneliness; and he who 
 is lonely, watching men and animals, trees and 
 flowers, flourish and fade and die, thinks and 
 thinks." 
 
 " The curse of loneliness ! " exclaimed the monk, 
 almost with emotional earnestness. 
 
 Perhaps the man imprisoned in the cowl, with 
 the fetters of the thrice-knotted girdle about his 
 waist, told something of a secret in those four 
 words. 
 
 "But thought is a compensatory blessing!" 
 
 cried Ulf. 
 
 42
 
 Pilate's Question 
 
 " Is it ? " said the monk. " I am not so sure of 
 that. Thought is sometimes an enemy, too often 
 the beginning of sin " 
 
 " And a friend, and at least the beginning of 
 wisdom. Dame Wisdom is an old woman no man 
 can rail against." 
 
 " I believe, with Luke, that you ought not to 
 be wearing motley," cried Hilary, suddenly 
 looking up. 
 
 " Are my jokes so bad? " 
 
 " It is the man, not the merryman, I am think- 
 ing of." 
 
 " Well, I'll be frank too. You are the first 
 monk for whom I have felt the beginning of 
 respect yes, that's a true confession; though I 
 have made many a shaveling vanity thy pets 
 are clerical ! purple by flattery. The man of God 
 of these days sad the days! is a kind of lady. 
 The minds of both are twin-sisters. But you, 
 Father, are no such monk. You, Father, are a 
 man ; and if I should not be wearing motley, you 
 would have been better out of a cassock." 
 
 "Ha! you say things freely," said Hilary; 
 " but you have the liberty to do so. A fool has 
 many privileges." 
 
 " You don't mean to say you envy me! " 
 returned the other, venturing to give words to 
 the tone in the monk's voice. 
 
 43
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Hilary did not at once answer these words 
 but gazed before him, a far-away look in his eyes. 
 Perhaps, in mind-mockery, he saw himself and 
 Ulf in changed clothes, each playing and living 
 the other's part. If only it might have been 
 even for a little while! his hidden heart would 
 insist on saying. If only it might have been! 
 He imagined himself in motley, living the life 
 irresponsible, living the life he despised, playing 
 with people; quips and fancies, fair examples of 
 fool's wit, flashed through his brain. The im- 
 possible fancy pleased him strangely. He gave 
 rein to it. In his soul's secrecy he knew he re- 
 volted often against the restraint of the cloisters, 
 and was wearied with their confinement. He 
 wished to go beyond Argovie, to lands over the 
 sea, to discover those mysterious places where 
 dwelled 
 
 " The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
 Do grow beneath their shoulders." 
 
 But no more of this folly ! Vows had been sworn, 
 and there was an end of the dreaming ! Hilary, 
 brushing aside his momentary discontent, was 
 faithful monk once more. 
 
 "No, I do not envy you! " came his answer 
 abruptly. " From my soul I have pity for you! " 
 
 Luke was greatly impressed by their converse. 
 All his infancy, his boyhood, and during the early 
 
 44
 
 Pilate's Question 
 
 days of youth, he had lived with happy wander- 
 ings in a world of fancy. His mind had drifted 
 through regions of glorious vision, of glittering 
 insubstantialities ; but the recent colloquy be- 
 tween jester and monk had roused his reasoning 
 faculty and quickened his sense of enquiry. He 
 wanted to hear more of men's^thoughts, to probe 
 deeper into the depths. 
 
 The monk was, however, too wary to resume a 
 dangerous topic in his presence. Ulf, perhaps for 
 the same reason, was content not to continue the 
 word-wrestle then. With hasty farewell, he went. 
 
 The robin followed him a little way, and then 
 returned. Ulf twice whistled its call; the bird 
 piped instant answer. 
 
 The jester strode through the forest until he 
 came to a river. He kept to its left bank until it 
 broadened into a lake, fringed with rushes and 
 troubled with wild growth. Then, turning to the 
 left, he ascended a smooth and grassy hill till he 
 came to a cottage, nested among fir-trees. 
 
 He tapped at the door, which was opened at 
 once by an old woman, who greeted him gladly. 
 There was welcome written largely in her smile. 
 
 " Good morrow, good mother," he greeted her 
 heartily. 
 
 " Good morrow, good friend," said she. " The 
 maid has been looking for you this two hours." 
 
 45
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " Foolish maid ! " said he teasingly, loud enough 
 to be heard in the room beyond. " Does she not 
 know that my lord the jester has the business of a 
 kingdom to transact ; and cannot waste time with 
 infants until the affairs of the wide world have 
 been adjusted? " 
 
 His words were answered by a girl's soft voice 
 with a plaintive ring in it. 
 
 " You are so late, you had forgotten me! " 
 
 He passed through the front room, into the 
 chamber beyond. On the floor was a litter of 
 straw, and there a young girl was lying. Her face 
 was pale, the eyes heavy and dark with illness. 
 She was restless. Fever had grip of her. 
 
 " Nay, child," Ulf assured her in kind, low tones, 
 for he loved her. " I will never forget you." 
 
 At the words her dull eyes flashed, for the 
 moment lost their heaviness. She sat up sud- 
 denly, seized his hands. 
 
 " And never will forget me? " she asked 
 passionately. 
 
 " Hush! " said he; with cool fingers he touched 
 her hot wrist. " I will never forget you." 
 
 "Never?" 
 
 "Never! Never!" His deliberate assevera- 
 tions comforted her. He softly kissed her hand. 
 
 " I am better now," she murmured, and sank 
 
 back, closing her eyes. 
 
 46
 
 Pilate's Question 
 
 He sat on the floor by her side, and, crooning, 
 sang her a little song. She listened intently till 
 the ditty was ended. Then her lips uttered a 
 sigh; and for a while there was silence. After- 
 wards she spoke again. Her voice was firmer 
 now, less querulous. 
 
 " There are many fine ladies in Earl Rudolph's 
 hall," she said 
 
 " Are there ? " asked he, and made a wry face at 
 her mother, who happened then to be entering. 
 The grimace made the old woman laugh. She 
 was one of Ulf's appreciative audience. 
 
 The sick girl heard the laughter, and, her 
 jealousy ablaze, looked up. " What are they 
 like?" 
 
 " The fine ladies ? Oh, massive, magnificent, 
 monumental, big, short, fat, thin; aged twenty, 
 thirty, forty, but after all just women." 
 
 " Some of them must be very beautiful." 
 
 " Beautiful? The Earl's mother was very 
 beautiful, before she died thirty-seven years ago 
 this very morrow. She was my first love," he 
 murmured with mock pathos, " although when I 
 told her she had a mouth for mushrooms and 
 ought to say baa when she hungered, she thanked 
 me, in effective fashion, with her own fair hands." 
 
 The mother giggled anew, and went from the 
 room. The ghost of a smile, moved by her 
 
 47
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 mother's mirth, crossed the ill maiden's face. Ulf 
 in his heart rejoiced at the sight. 
 
 " Is there not one very lovely lady there now? " 
 she persisted. 
 
 " There is, as lovely as Mayday moonlight, as 
 frosted apple-blossom." 
 
 "And who is she?" 
 
 "She? The deaf one!" 
 
 "The deaf one! Why? " 
 
 " Because she can't hear what I say, so I need 
 not say anything. I love Mistress Few-words, 
 and dote on my Lady Silence." 
 
 " You will never forget me? " again she whis- 
 pered with the inconsequence of jealous love. 
 
 " Never! Never! " once more he assured her. 
 Once she took his hands and clung to them. 
 
 The old woman returned, bringing wheaten 
 cakes on a platter, and cider in a wooden mug. 
 Yorg, the husband of the house, followed. 
 
 " Heh, Ulf! " said he. That was his greeting. 
 He also saluted his daughter. " Heh, wench! " 
 and without waiting for reply, clattered out of the 
 room and cottage, back to his boat and nets, for 
 he was of the trade of Simon Peter. 
 
 " The goodman is talkative," was Ulf's com- 
 ment, as he put down the emptied mug. 
 
 " He means much," said the wife, refilling it. 
 
 " You talk instead," murmured the girl to Ulf. 
 48
 
 Pilate's Question 
 
 He looked at her with lips pursed. " My tongue 
 is so weary of wagging," said he. " But you shall 
 have a story to think about after I am gone. You 
 know the magic pool." 
 
 " I know no pools now! " complained the poor 
 maid. 
 
 ' You mean the one surrounded by osiers, 
 where Long Wat killed the river snake! " cried 
 the mother eagerly. 
 
 " No, not that one ! And you did not know the 
 old woman who lived by it either. I will tell you 
 about her. Dame what was her name ? I forget 
 never mind! Many hundreds of years ago, 
 before even I was born, an old, old woman lived 
 in this wood; and not far from her cottage was 
 a pool of water, with a belt of osiers nearly 
 round it." 
 
 " I knew it ! " said the maid's mother exultantly. 
 
 " It dried up seventy-two years before the oldest 
 person now living was born, and of course the 
 osiers died soon after." 
 
 " Let him talk, mother! " said the maid 
 severely. 
 
 " Well, the old woman got her livelihood by 
 making and selling simples compounded from 
 herbs she found in the wood; and by scraping 
 together what small monies she could, and starv- 
 ing when there was nothing else to be done, she 
 
 49
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 managed to exist. She was very old, very lonely, 
 and very poor, havingjnot even a cat's friendship. 
 As for humankind, they mocked and derided her, 
 the saints ! One day the woman, in her search for 
 a choice herb which was necessary for a medicine 
 she was compounding, wandered to the pool, and 
 there by the side of it rested, stared at the green 
 water, and thought of her weariness and sorrows. 
 She saw her own face mirrored there: what a 
 scarred, seamed, grief-worn face it was! Every 
 one of its wrinkles told of disappointments. 
 
 " But a better time was at hand. A fairy or 
 was it an angel ? I don't remember came down, 
 and with wand of silver touched the pool. The 
 old woman stared. Were her purblind eyes 
 deceiving her? No, that was her countenance, 
 but many of the wrinkles were gone, the hair was 
 now not completely white. There was still a 
 suggestion of hope in the brave face. It was she 
 as she was ten years before! Ah, happy days 
 done! And ten years, twenty years earlier still. 
 How different she had been then; and how much 
 more hopeful, before Time, the ancient tyrant, the 
 thieving rascal, had taken the years and nearly all 
 the hope away. Her mind, in imagination, saw 
 herself again in middle years. The bloom was 
 still on her face, the light of hope in her eyes was 
 there it was! The water gave back the image.
 
 Pilate's Question 
 
 The face in the pool was thirty years younger 
 than the face looking into it. 
 
 " An exultation the exultation of strong life 
 ran again through the heart of the dame, her veins 
 throbbed with renewed warmth and healthful 
 certitude. The joy of younger days was wildly 
 alive within her. How brave was she how proud 
 of her hopes and intentions, in early womanhood ! 
 As a changing picture the face and form in the 
 reflection went youthwards. From the depth of 
 green waters a young face smiled. There was 
 brightness in the eyes, brown hair hung in clusters 
 about an unwrinkled brow, white teeth gleamed 
 between lips which now . . . 
 
 " Once again the old woman lived her dead life. 
 The lover for whom she had waited nearly three- 
 score years seemed once more possible. Would he 
 never be back from that marauding expedition 
 whence every one of his companions had returned, 
 though with wounds and shame? He alone had 
 remained away, leaving her to long for him, and to 
 wait until hope had to be buried. But now with 
 renewed youth impossible hopes revived. An 
 excess of the happiness of budding womanhood 
 caused her eyes to become tear-dimmed. That 
 small sacrifice to emotion took pain from the old 
 dame's heart. 
 
 " When she looked again, it was not a woman
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 who gazed at her from the pool, but a girl a child 
 a babe. Then it seemed to the over-eager dame 
 that the mortal image faded, departed, changed. 
 Out of the pool smiled an angel-face. Changed 
 though it was, she knew it. It was her own face 
 re-perfected. How beautiful is mortal immor- 
 talised! From that spiritualised state she had 
 come to this earthly existence. To that she was 
 going! 
 
 " The grey face was alive with yearning and 
 exultation. The bent form leaned over the pool. 
 Aged lips went to touch angel lips. A flood of joy 
 suffused her. As the lips mortal and immortal 
 met at the surface of the pool, darkness a dark- 
 ness thronged with light closed about her. The 
 old dame's life was ended; now she lived! " 
 
 Ulf stopped to look at the girl who was weeping. 
 The mother, who stood there listening, had been 
 all the while waiting to laugh, and had not laughed 
 at all. 
 
 " That is the worst story you ever told," said 
 she. 
 
 "No, mother, it was beautiful. It was said to 
 comfort me. Dear Ulf! You are much more 
 heavenly than the priest. He frightens me with 
 flames; but you make death to mean love and 
 happiness. I I shall be glad to be dead." 
 
 " Hush, Lilith ! " said Ulf kindly. " You are to 
 52
 
 Pilate's Question 
 
 be well again ; to be strong again ; to go with me 
 one day to look for the place where the magic pool 
 was. Mother! " he continued, " that was a poor 
 sort of story for a fool to tell. Come, answer me 
 this : why is a choked chimney like a rotten fish ? 
 You can't guess ? Because neither of them can be 
 smoked. I hope that's good enough for you." 
 
 It was. The mother laughed and repeated to 
 herself question and answer, while the jester, 
 ashamed of himself for making the sacrifice of 
 folly, took tender leave of Lilith and returned to 
 his mirthful, miserable duties. 
 
 53
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 COMMENCEMENT OF THE QUEST 
 
 SHORTLY after Ulf had gone, Hilary said to Luke, 
 " That is a good man, though he speaks queerly, 
 and asks strange questions. There is some sorrow 
 at the back of his heart which makes him doubtful 
 of the truth ; but you and I we are not doubtful." 
 
 Luke answered " No " ; and when the word was 
 spoken, for the first time knew he did not possess 
 all the confidence he had done. 
 
 Ulf 's enquiry had made him not exactly doubt- 
 ful, but eager to question himself. He wanted 
 again to be alone, so that unhindered he might 
 struggle with newborn whys and wherefores. 
 Now there was to be a query behind every fact in 
 life. He was already asking himself Ulf's ques- 
 tion, "What is truth? "adding to it, "What 
 is true? " 
 
 He glanced towards Hilary. Should he tell the 
 monk that the word " No " did not convey all his 
 answer. Hilary was his friend, and could be 
 depended upon to treat his difficulties sympatheti- 
 cally. But the stage for such confidence had not 
 
 54
 
 Commencement of the Quest 
 
 yet come. He must strive first to help himself 
 before going to others. 
 
 The monk had shrewdly divined something of 
 Luke's quandary. " Keep to your dreams," he 
 counselled, " leave doubts and questionings to Ulf 
 and me. Holy Church has a bridge over every 
 difficulty; so the peace which dwells in faith be 
 with you, Luke ! " 
 
 He raised his hand in hurried benediction and 
 walked away. Luke watched the monk's head 
 bend in thought, one hand, in the wonted manner, 
 clasp the other behind his back, outward evidence 
 of deep meditation within. Hilary was praying 
 in thought, praying with passion that the soul of 
 the swineherd should be saved from afflictions of 
 doubt. 
 
 As soon as he was alone, Luke began, in helter- 
 skelter fashion, to self-question. 
 
 " Why was I born to tend swine; while Ulf 
 must'make mirth for Earl Rudolph ? Why should 
 Rudolph be lord, the owner of lands and servants; 
 while Hilary is destined to spend his days cowled 
 and cloistered ? Were the circumstances of earth- 
 being an accident a lottery ; or was God by these 
 seeming accidents working out a plan? " 
 
 Question after question such as these ran, pell- 
 mell, through Luke's mind. He wanted the truth 
 the truth about many things. How could he 
 
 55
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 find it ? Truth must be where ? The skies wore 
 a yeil impenetrable. But divine justice was 
 throned beyond. Chaos was not king. Person- 
 ally, he was sure it was so. The Church taught it ; 
 and, as Hilary had said, the Church could not 
 teach wrong. But, oh for some reason for the 
 faith! He sighed and yearned for an acceptable 
 reason for it ! 
 
 The truth! the truth! his heart cried out. The 
 truth! the truth! 
 
 Luke was only beginning to enquire; yet 
 already he knew something of the pain, not of 
 doubt, but of wanting to know, of yearning to 
 understand. Having bitten of the apple of the 
 forbidden tree, he was hungry for more of the 
 fruit. There was purpose in the counsel the monk 
 had left with him, that he should keep to his 
 dreams and let questioning be; but such counsel 
 was not for him, it was not manly counsel. Better 
 wrestle with mysteries, wrestle without hope of 
 victory, than sleep among the mysteries and never 
 realise there were mysteries. 
 
 Luke was baffled, of course; but even in those 
 early moments of enquiry when he rather made 
 a catalogue of questions than enquired he was 
 passing from boyhood to intellectual manhood. 
 The taste of the forbidden fruit, at least, puts an 
 end to childhood. 
 
 56
 
 Commencement of the Quest 
 
 Luke walked about the forest for a little while, 
 to see that none of the swine was straying. 
 During those minutes of peace the fever of enquiry 
 left him ; he only saw the glory of nature, and the 
 much goodness in life. Here was gladness enough 
 for soul and body! Earth gave of its plenty 
 joyously, and was full of delights. The sky was 
 clamorous with the songs of birds, the wood 
 exultant with nature's multitudinous beauties. 
 How sweet and beautiful in God's universal 
 domain is this little green world ! With zest and 
 delight of mind Luke observed existence on that 
 sunny, breezy, glorious afternoon. 
 
 He returned to his feast of contemplation. At 
 least he was certain of this fragment of truth 
 culled from the world-book of beauty God ruled ! 
 Proclaimed also, in this exultant life, in yonder 
 trees and flowers, in those joyous and confident 
 bird-voices, was this part of the divine truth God 
 loved! Given that a government of love over 
 all things and the rest was of no importance. He 
 decided to speak of this to Ulf on the morrow. 
 Might not he be able to help his friend in his 
 quandary ? 
 
 The thought about Ulf caused him to look again 
 for the robin. It was perched on a low branch of 
 the oak tree, piping at slow intervals. While 
 Luke was watching, it flew from the bough. 
 
 57
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 There was immediate catastrophe. As a veritable 
 bolt from the blue, a hawk descended, and struck 
 the bird. Luke rose and shouted. The hawk 
 stayed neither to complete its stroke, nor to seize 
 its prey; but, frightened by human interference, 
 went. Ulf's feathered friend lay quivering dead 
 upon the ground ! 
 
 It was the tragedy of an instant, and something 
 more than that ; for it came as a red footnote to 
 the first page of Luke's speculations. 
 
 "God ruled! God loved!" so, in youth's 
 happy confidence, he had but moments ago been 
 thinking. And here was an answer ! How could 
 an act of cruelty, of complete injustice, such as 
 this, be permitted, if divine love really ruled? 
 Here was purposeless pain and undeserved sudden 
 death. How could they exist in a God-created, 
 God-dominated world? 
 
 Cold despair swept over him. But, even then, 
 his worst pain was for Ulf , because the robin being 
 dead, his friend had for ever lost something of 
 which he was fond. 
 
 Luke picked up the bird. Poor limp handful 
 of clay and feathers! How different from what 
 had been so little a while before ! Working with 
 his fingers he hollowed a grave, and buried the 
 fragment of ruined life. He was oppressed with 
 the strangeness of things; of the mysteries called 
 
 58
 
 Commencement of the Quest 
 
 death, and the experiences called life! New 
 questions framed themselves and clamoured for 
 reasonable answer. Why had a happy creature 
 suddenly, cruelly, been deprived of life; and the 
 world thereby made poorer for lack of its melody ? 
 Why? The truth! the truth! 
 
 But what did he mean by the truth ? For long 
 he puzzled at that basic question, till at last his 
 brain, eagerly groping, found the definition. What 
 he wanted to discover in his search for the truth, 
 as he called it, was some manifestation of God's 
 actual ruling in the world, some positive mani- 
 festation, open and evident to the simplest of 
 enquiring minds. 
 
 Problems of all kinds beset him. For long he 
 pondered, but could not probe them. At the back 
 of his brain there reposed the certainty that all 
 was right, that love was dominant in the universe, 
 that mercy and justice reigned; but at present 
 difficulties predominated. 
 
 Deliberately, for that day, he gave up the prob- 
 lem. He called to his swine, and drove them home. 
 
 Through the night weird dreams haunted him ; 
 mind-fever held him. Mocking faces shone from 
 the darkness, faded, were gone. In the eyes of 
 every face was repeated his monosyllabic question 
 " Why? " On the lips of every one there was a 
 sneer. 
 
 59
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Luke was awake before dawn. He went out of 
 the hut in which Mause and he dwelt, and gazed 
 at the burning stars. In his heart's doubt he 
 gained comfort from them. They spoke to him 
 of eternity, of what is immortal. For this little 
 life has its absolute certainties. Birds are brought 
 into existence now and dead to-morrow; death 
 comes to man as to birds in multitudinous 
 ways. The longest life is little more than a hand- 
 ful of days. But the stars God's sentinels ! are 
 always there shining always, although clouds 
 may for a while obscure them. But still Ulf's 
 robin-redbreast was dead ; and Luke's question 
 the question of the dream-faces was unanswered. 
 
 The uncertainty grew stronger as shuddering 
 dawn advanced. He vowed to ask Ulf ; and then 
 to question Hilary. He must have some answer, 
 good or bad, from one or both. If the man of the 
 world could not comfort his heart and mind, there 
 was the Churchman. If the monk could not 
 answer he must continue to grope for the truth 
 alone until he found it, or knew that it was 
 definitely and undoubtedly beyond human scope. 
 
 Ulf did not come that day, but Hilary did, so 
 Luke sought counsel from him. The monk lis- 
 tened with sympathy to all there was to tell, but 
 could give no words of healing. The tragedy of 
 
 the redbreast was no traged}' to him. To Luke, 
 
 60
 
 Commencement of the Quest 
 
 whose life had been spent in the woods, every 
 breathing thing was a fragment of divine life; a 
 bird as truly such a fragment as was a man; but 
 to Hilary a bird was a bird only, of no more im- 
 portance in the scheme of existence than a leaf 
 or a beetle. 
 
 So Luke, in his search for truth, first tried 
 Hilary, who, in the peculiar difficulty that had 
 arisen, could not help. The monk was, however, 
 eagerly anxious to keep that young soul for the 
 Church ; and begged Luke to consult other of the 
 monks, and to brood patiently and prayerfully 
 over what they had to say, for, as he argued, 
 only the Church could help in that and all other 
 soul-trouble. 
 
 " The innocent is asking for a mad martyrdom," 
 was his own secret, sad comment. 
 
 Iij the evening after vespers when the herd 
 was pent, and he was free, Luke went to the 
 monastery. With eager feet he began his search 
 for truth. The mysterious ideal whose votary he 
 had sworn to be, called to him with alluring voice, 
 and baffled him. 
 
 For the first time in his life he hastened over 
 the meadow, and through the cluster of oaks 
 which stood between Mause's dwelling and the 
 monastery, without regarding the bats, which, with 
 
 shrill squeaks of happiness, circled above him, or 
 
 61
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 the thick clusters of dog-daisies which starred the 
 grass at his feet. They were details in that book 
 of truth he was passionate to read, but he ignored 
 them then; his enquiry was, for the time being, 
 introspective. 
 
 He reached a side -portal, and tapped. A 
 wicket slid aside ; a pale face peered through the 
 grating. Luke asked to see Brother Clement, 
 whose reputation for wisdom and knowledge was 
 wide, the favourite vanity of the community. He 
 was admitted at once. 
 
 Hilary happened to be pacing along the corridor 
 as the swineherd entered. The monk smiled on 
 hearing that it was Clement whom Luke had asked 
 to see, and pointed to the entrance of an additional 
 chapel dedicated to St. Hugo which Luke 
 obediently entered, while Hilary stayed to speak 
 with the brother at the gate. 
 
 Luke knelt as soon as he was within, and began 
 the saying of his circle of prayers. When they 
 were finished, he continued to kneel there in a 
 waking dream. Lights glimmered above and 
 beside the altar. Out of the gloom a silvern 
 representation of the Crucifixion shone dimly. 
 There were, in front of him, other objects of 
 adoration, devotion, or superstition : but he heeded 
 them not. His eyes looked beyond the altar, 
 
 beyond the chapel, beyond the world. Being the 
 
 62
 
 Commencement of the Quest 
 
 complete dreamer, there was no limitation to his 
 imaginings. His speculations wandered through 
 the universe. 
 
 In his simple-hearted exaltation, they ranged 
 well towards the unthinkable. He was able in 
 his purity of soul and reverence to realise some- 
 thing of the presence of God; but only and 
 always as King of Love. Luke, in his natural 
 innocence, was able to comprehend God as sym- 
 pathetic Omniscience. He could not conceive 
 God as other than completely helpful and loving; 
 and yet, in perfect reverence still, he was asking 
 his soul insistently the awful question How 
 could the all-knowing, all-powerful God of Love 
 permit such a fact of unmerited, unnecessary 
 suffering and slaughter, as his eyes that day had 
 witnessed ? 
 
 Luke in his communion with the eternities was 
 unaware of the passing of many minutes. Clement, 
 whom he had come to consult, did not appear or 
 send any summons or message, yet Luke was 
 unconscious of the neglect . In the dreadful silence 
 of the chapel he forgot Brother Clement, and every 
 other human pawn in life's puzzling game. His 
 mind was pondering the problems of heaven, and 
 had no need, in that hour of exalted reverie, for 
 puppets of earth. 
 
 Weary with gazing at the altar-glimmer, he 
 63
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 closed his eyes, and sank forward, his face hidden 
 in his hands. For the little moment he seemed to 
 Jose grip of his personality. His subliminal self 
 called to him with a voice, which his governing 
 senses had hitherto made mute. 
 
 " Peruel! " whispered the voice of his soul. 
 
 Luke's lapse into swoon-sleep was merely 
 momentary, yet within that fragment of time he 
 had heard a strange, new, mysterious word, and 
 seen visions of blurred brightness. Almost im- 
 mediately complete consciousness returned; he 
 was staring at white candles with their points of 
 yellow flame, and the faded, ornate, altar-furni- 
 ture. The voice and visions of the momentary 
 lapse were forgotten as he re-awaked. He was 
 Luke the swineherd once more, conscious of his 
 ignorance, asking still the fool's and the wise man's 
 question "Why?" 
 
 But although the vision-voice was forgotten, 
 other voices were speaking within him, putting 
 into his mind many perplexing thoughts, rousing 
 that intolerable dragon, doubt. 
 
 " How foolish is prayer! As if a man crouch- 
 ing on his knees in front of a crucifix or painted 
 image is any the better for mouth-work! A 
 God of love ? What does that mean when human 
 beings, and beings less than human, live to be 
 
 wronged, and die to be forgotten? Where is 
 
 64
 
 Commencement of the Quest 
 
 omnipotent love there ? Life after death ? 
 Phew! Look in a coffin! Life after death! 
 Phew!" 
 
 Such were some of the thoughts which tumbled 
 through Luke's mind. He abhorred and resisted 
 them. He knew they were not really his ideas 
 it was as if evil personalities were making a play- 
 thing of his brain. Still they distressed him 
 exceedingly. He felt the full burden of responsi- 
 bility because of them. They were of his mind, 
 therefore, surely, part of his personality ! So even 
 while he resisted them, he suffered grievously 
 because of them they were his. 
 
 The troublesome thoughts not only continued, 
 but became every moment more annoyingly 
 insistent. The struggle to suppress them added 
 to the agony. In his perplexity, he prayed 
 passionately for light and the strengthening of 
 his faith; but during that hour of trial, in that 
 place of prayer, it seemed as if the tempters had 
 no real spiritual opponent to cope with them; 
 they could perplex and torment the swineherd 
 untroubled by angel enemy. 
 
 So, in mocking throng, fiends ranged behind 
 him ; and answered his agonized appeals with still 
 more perplexing thoughts. Luke had no know- 
 ledge of their nearness to him. He felt, indeed, 
 
 much alone in that hour of doubt's darkness; 
 
 65 c
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 but still fought steadily against the assaults of the 
 invisible. 
 
 The torture at last became so intense that his 
 physical being protested against the strain. He 
 sprang to his feet with a moan on his lips, fled 
 from the chapel, and, heedless of the call of the 
 gatekeeper, passed out of the monastery, making 
 no pause in his flight until he was again in Mause's 
 dwelling. 
 
 When in the end he did pause, it was to 
 feel profoundly ashamed and weak; defeated, a 
 coward. 
 
 He could not see himself as the angels saw him. 
 
 66
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 ULF'S ANSWER 
 
 THE evil thoughts which had occurred to Luke in 
 the chapel caused him to be conscious of profound 
 unworthiness, a sense of humiliation accentuated 
 during the cool meditations of the morrow. A 
 very brown-mooded swineherd tended the pigs 
 and drove them afield that morning. 
 
 So sad was he, that he prayed to have loneliness 
 during the day, that he might indulge the luxury 
 of brooding over his problems, and have an oppor- 
 tunity of fighting the doubts which now merci- 
 lessly beset him. 
 
 He hoped to be lonely. Life's lottery brought 
 him the reverse. The customary solitude of the 
 woods was invaded by strangers of the least 
 looked-for kind. Ulf, too, it was who unwillingly 
 brought them. 
 
 The jester had been proceeding to their usual 
 meeting-place when he stumbled on a party of 
 girls, who, with frolic and infinite shrillness, had 
 been decking themselves with large white daisies 
 
 strung about green trailers torn from the hedges 
 
 67
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 and thickets. They were happy country girls, 
 thoughtlessly enjoying life's spell of laughter 
 before household care should claim them for 
 its own. 
 
 A fool in motley was always game for the 
 sportive. So Ulf, who had more than a fair 
 proportion of kindness in his nature, after giving 
 them food for mirth with several sayings, per- 
 mitted himself to be harnessed with green things, 
 to wear a crown of June poppies, and be driven, 
 capering, through the avenues towards the 
 monastery. One of the girls walked in front, 
 wielding Ulf's bauble, and strutting like an over- 
 important major-domo ; the remaining five walked 
 hand in hand, the outer two holding leafy reins, 
 while they all at the height of shrill voices sang 
 country songs. 
 
 Ulf danced, fully entering into their mood of 
 irresponsibility, until Luke was before him. The 
 girls stopped their singing, looked more or less 
 disdainfully at swine and swineherd, and were 
 not intending to stay; but Ulf insisted on going 
 to his friend. 
 
 Luke appeared not pleased at the interruption, 
 though he was glad to greet Ulf, to whom he 
 breathlessly told of the death of the bird. 
 
 A cloud passed fleetly over the jester's face. 
 
 He shook himself free from the creepers, but 
 
 68
 
 Ulf's Answer 
 
 the shrunken crown of poppies still encircled his 
 cockscomb. 
 
 " Pack home, you melody makers," he said, as 
 he snatched his bauble from the girl who held it. 
 
 " Saucy fool ! " cried one with a flash of petulant 
 anger. 
 
 "He wants to gossip with the pigs!" said 
 another, and giggled; while a third swept an 
 impudent curtsey to Luke, and strutted away, her 
 nose in the air, a sneer on her upper lip. 
 
 " Silly wench! " said Ulf gruffly, " you are not 
 worthy to breathe the same air with him! " 
 
 ' You forget your manners, fool! " she answered 
 shortly. " Dirty company has ruined your judg- 
 ment ! " 
 
 " Dirty motley, dirty swineherd, dirty pigs! " 
 jeered another, and the six laughed in chorus. 
 
 " Run away home, princesses," Ulf growled, 
 " I prefer the company of pork! " 
 
 'rip, pig, pig! " they cried, taunting Ulf; and, 
 going a little way, pelted him with old fallen fir- 
 cones, till one of the larger swine, happening to go 
 towards them, sent them running, laughing and 
 shrieking, away. For a little while the sound of 
 their excited voices disturbed the serenity of the 
 wood. 
 
 Ulf supposed Luke might be troubled by the 
 
 girl's careless insolence; but, in fact, he thought 
 
 69
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 nothing of it. The social superiority of every one 
 else in his environment had taught him from the 
 earliest to accept a pretty humble estimate of 
 himself, and his mind just then had concern with 
 things of greater importance. But amongst them 
 the personal would intrude. Luke must be think- 
 ing of an ideal and the real of Alys and those 
 clamorous careless lasses. 
 
 Although his opinion of the circumstances of 
 life was not what it had been, he was no less a 
 visionary and idealist; indeed, to drain his mind 
 of its dreams would have been as ineffective as 
 were the efforts of Loki to drink the sea. The 
 sudden appearance and departure of the feather- 
 headed maidens had thrown sharply into the 
 midst of his meditations the recollections of Alys. 
 Their boisterous presence seemed to release her 
 from the abstract ; they made her real, and Alys, 
 real where was she? Why was she not a more 
 potent presence in his life? Was she always to 
 be but a sweet shadow of dreams ? 
 
 Ulf recurred to the death of the bird: his 
 regret found expression in straight rebellious 
 speech. 
 
 "Of all the birds in the wood that that one 
 should be chosen! What a tyrant it is these 
 monks make their groans to! " he spoke with a 
 
 savageness unusual to him. " That little maker 
 
 70
 
 Ulf s Answer 
 
 of music and happiness has been killed wantonly. 
 It is the same right through, from sky to dust. 
 Everything worth anything is ground to powder 
 by some unseen merciless might. Love ! Justice ! 
 Truth! Truth! If truth ever lived, she was 
 smothered as soon as she was born. What a 
 world it is! Sorry and rotten! Every song is a 
 death-song. Every flower has blight in its heart. 
 The skeleton is the most lasting part of a creature's 
 being. Immortality! Fustian! " 
 
 Luke looked up at his friend, who was, he knew, 
 suffering. But despite his own recent agony of 
 uncertainty, he felt, in face of this challenge, 
 constrained to fight truth's battle. 
 
 "It is no good railing," said he. " Compared 
 with the powers unseen, we are such little things. 
 Life is a big mystery. There are wise and holy 
 men who have the key to it. Some day we shall 
 know the truth and its meaning." 
 
 Ulf shook his head impatiently. 
 
 " That day is no day. Some day is never. 
 Some day is death's day. We puzzle our fool 
 brains over imagined mysteries, then die and are 
 dust earth for the grass to grow in, which the 
 beasts eat. We bother our brains in the sunlight, 
 only in the end to be bones in a coffin. Truth's 
 in a coffin, bones beautifying a shroud ! " 
 
 " No, truth is not. Truth is where death is not ;
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 and life is our opportunity for finding it," Luke 
 answered; and then ventured into further fields 
 philosophic. " Why else should I be able to 
 think? Can that pig think ? " 
 
 " It isn't such a fool as to think," Ulf rejoined, 
 looking savagely at the unoffending monster. " It 
 lives the wise life : eats, drinks, sleeps, and wastes 
 no time in praying, or cleaning itself. Besides, 
 why shouldn't the pig think? It has similar 
 faculties and the same senses as we have. Of 
 course it thinks, and thinking, wisely sets its mind 
 to looking for truffles. I greet you, brother," he 
 added, smiling queerly, as he gave the grubbing 
 swine a gentle kick. 
 
 " Irony runs away with you, Ulf. You know 
 that, whatever its faculties may be, a pig is not 
 man's brother." 
 
 " Why not ? All creatures are cousins. Man, 
 the pig, and the angels, are all distant relations." 
 
 " Has a pig a soul, as man has? " 
 
 " Soul ! What is soul ? How do you know we 
 have souls? I can see my feet, pull my nose, feel 
 the beat of my heart; but I cannot see or feel my 
 soul! " 
 
 "Or your thoughts! " 
 
 " No, that's a fair hit! You are a shrewdling, 
 Luke; but 'tis shrewdness wasted among these 
 
 snouters! " 
 
 72
 
 Ulf's Answer 
 
 " Further, Ulf," cried Luke, warming with the 
 joy of confident controversy, " you don't live con- 
 sistently with your own gloomy creed. You prate 
 here about truth being dead with Death, and talk 
 to Lilith about immortality, and happiness, and 
 health after death." 
 
 " That's to comfort her. Who would talk of 
 immortality if it weren't to comfort ill folk and 
 frightened children? " 
 
 " No one would consecrate a lie for such a 
 purpose! " 
 
 " Would not any one, young oracle? " said Ulf 
 smiling, as he seated himself on the grass. " You 
 are a wise lad talking sage fragments like a 
 seventy-year-old, whose brains are not rimey with 
 the frost of age. Where did you discover this 
 fount of priestly wisdom? " 
 
 ." Since the bird died; even before that since 
 you spoke with Hilary of truth I have been think- 
 ing of and searching for the truth. When I am 
 alone doubt lies heavily on me, and all the things 
 I long to believe in are lost behind clouds. But 
 when you dogmatise and speak as if life were 
 one lie " 
 
 " As kindness and the priests to comfort 
 frightened ones have assuredly made it." 
 
 " Then my soul is roused to opposition." 
 
 " Roused to opposition! Your wisdom is 
 73 C2
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 merely the ordinary infirmity of man obstinacy; 
 and not the reasonableness of the philosopher. 
 Your mind left to itself says ' Nay ' ; till Mistress 
 Prejudice steps in, and in the splendid feminine 
 manner screams ' Yea! ' and that's enough for 
 the youth with the obstinacy the wisdom of 
 seventy." 
 
 " Not prejudice steps in; but " 
 
 ' Your good angel, I suppose! " 
 
 " I was going to say the confidence that God 
 watches and rules; that He is truth, whatever 
 men do and say." 
 
 " I wish I could share that confidence and be 
 assured that the Church would keep such simple 
 faith. The religious are always speaking of 
 wonderful miracles performed by saints and the 
 relics of saints. I wish I could see one of those 
 miracles performed. I have never seen such done, 
 though I have kept my ears and eyes astrain for 
 them, and every village has forty legends of deeds 
 of miracle performed just forty years before. I 
 would give an eye to see one blind man receive 
 sight. I ask a priest why I can never witness 
 such a miracle, and he answers: ' Have faith! 
 Have faith! ' It is like asking me to shut my 
 eyes in the hope of seeing the sun at midnight." 
 
 Luke was thoughtfully silent for a little while. 
 The arguments Ulf urged were new to him; and, 
 
 74
 
 Ulf's Answer 
 
 false or true, stimulated his mind. Here, good or 
 evil, indirectly supplied, was some of the informa- 
 tion he sought. 
 
 " And what does Father Priest mean by faith ? " 
 Ulf continued. 
 
 " Ay, what does he mean? " said Luke, accept- 
 ing the other's quiet challenge. 
 
 " Why, blind belief blind belief in what the 
 Church rules and teaches." 
 
 " The Church is the surest guide we have," 
 Luke asserted, though only recently he had been 
 in doubt on that very issue. 
 
 "Is it? What a blessed blind confidence we 
 have! Your memory is that of a thirsty seven- 
 year-old. Here are questions ! What constitutes 
 the Church the teaching, ruling Church? The 
 monks and priests on earth and phantoms in 
 heaven. Where are your teachers in the monas- 
 tery? There is Hilary. You asked him about 
 the truth. What said he? Did he satisfy you? 
 Not one whit! And the other wonders of St. 
 Dunstan's? Where is the helper among them? 
 I have at some time or other seen and spoken with 
 every one of them, from my lord Abbot to my lord 
 doorkeeper, and not a man of them but is wrapped 
 in his own private robe of vanity, foolishness, and 
 ignorant dogmatism. Go to each of them, Luke, 
 and ask your frank questions. Ponder on the 
 
 75
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 answers they give. Bah! They are blind beg- 
 gars, each insisting that he can see best lame 
 dogs, every one boasting that he has the finest 
 store of strength and wholeness windy dog- 
 matizing mouths! Go to them, Lucas. The 
 blind guides will be glad to lead you." 
 
 The swineherd was roused by this invective. 
 
 " I will," said he. 
 
 " Ask each one for the key to the gate of truth." 
 
 "I will!" 
 
 " You will! poor wanderer in the wilderness! 
 Looking for truth in the clouded pit of lies. Ask 
 Brother Clement! " 
 
 " That will I." 
 
 " And receive a learned discourse on whether 
 two angels can occupy the same space, or on the 
 spiritual marriage of Cain. Truth's most loving 
 murderer was the Father of the Schoolmen ! Then 
 you ask Brother Benedict ! " 
 
 " You advise me? " 
 
 " Advise you, poor simpleton squatting on a 
 mare's nest! You should wear this motley. 
 Benedict! Brother Benedict! the poet whose 
 heart is swathed in fantasies, who loves to limn 
 mimic saints in the holy books, to weave many 
 coloured traceries into wonderful letters on parch- 
 ment, and scroll glories on vellum leaves. You 
 
 will ask him for truth, and receive in return, five 
 
 76
 
 Ulf 's Answer 
 
 legends. You yearn for life-giving truth, and he 
 tells you how St. Lucy, when she was testifying to 
 her faith, could not be torn from where she stood 
 by the united strength of oxen and a hundred 
 other unhelpful incredible wonders. Legends are 
 lovely I make them myself but we can't live 
 on them; you and I want the truth the truth; 
 and will never get it. Then, still earnest in our 
 pilgrimage, we go to Brother John. What says 
 Brother John? " 
 
 " What does Brother John say? " 
 
 " Brother John loves his cup and his platter I 
 will remember only the superior aspect of Brother 
 John. But again and again he loves the flowing 
 contents of his cup. He drinks, hiccups a happy 
 sigh from the depths of a grateful heart, and 
 murmurs: ' God love the man who brewed this 
 sack! ' Something like that is his answer to the 
 seeker after truth. Then, weary and properly 
 disgusted, perhaps now a little bit angry, we go to 
 Brother Jerome. He is afraid of nobody, reveres 
 nothing; answers simple enquiries with a sneer. 
 Wounded, we grow passionate and clamour for the 
 truth. He sneers again, curls a cruel tip, and 
 tells us to mind our pigs. I wonder whether one 
 day Jerome will be canonised ! Finally, weary of 
 underlings, Lucas the truth-seeker goes to the 
 Abbot." 
 
 77
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 "And the Abbot? " 
 
 " I think I will leave that to his most reverend 
 Mightiness ! I wash my hands of my lord Abbot ! 
 And now I wash my hands of all melancholy cogi- 
 tation, and go to say good-day to Lilith. Drive 
 home the pigs, and come to me there. I will sing 
 you a song which I made myself. It is about a 
 man who swallowed the moon and found himself 
 sailing round, round, and round the world. It 
 isn't half as mad in its meaning though I, its 
 maker, cannot and would not unravel its mystery 
 as the answers to your questions will be. 
 Hasten, Luke, I will sing the song; you shall join 
 in the chorus which follows hard on every line. It 
 is ' Fol-de-rol.' Do you think you can remember 
 that? You might practise it while the monks 
 are explaining, and so punctuate their sapient 
 discourse." 
 
 Ulf hurried away, the crown of faded poppies 
 still dangling about his cockscomb.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 LILITH COMPLETES THE PROBLEM 
 
 LUKE did not seek wisdom from the monks that 
 evening after all, but followed Ulf's advice, and 
 when the swine were safely housed, went to the 
 home of the sick girl, Lilith. 
 
 There was, however, none of the promised song. 
 He found Ulf a changed man. There was no 
 occasion for melody or mirth. The jester, the 
 fisherman and his wife, had other occupation for 
 their thoughts. 
 
 Lilith was ill, very ill; suffering excess of pain, 
 struggling desperately for breath. Fever gripped 
 her, weakness laid its sloth upon her, despair lived 
 in her mind and heart. Hopeless now of living, 
 she was hopeless also at the thought of death. 
 
 When Luke reached the hut, he found confusion 
 there. Yorg was standing by the door, staring at 
 the sky, grumbling furiously. His emotion found 
 expression in jerked, sour words. 
 
 The wife was on the verge of noisy tears. With 
 nervous hands she twisted and untwisted her 
 apron. Her hair, fallen loose from its fastenings, 
 
 79
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 hung about her face and ears, untidily, in 
 tangles. 
 
 Ulf was the calm one of the three. He knelt by 
 Lilith's bed and murmuring words of soothing, 
 bathed the girl's hot forehead. 
 
 Luke's coming brought help to the anxious three. 
 The fisherman greeted him as usual. " Heh, 
 Luke," he cried, and stumped into the little room 
 to stare under frowning brows at his suffering 
 daughter. 
 
 The mother at sight of the new-comer lapsed 
 into the comfort of unnecessary tears. 
 
 " You are welcome, Luke," Ulf said. " Go to 
 the monastery for a leech." 
 
 Luke turned and ran. While he was running 
 the pain-afflicted face of Lilith hopelessness and 
 fear alight in the eyes haunted his mind. Never 
 before had he seen human being in agony. Re- 
 membrance of the picture of pain just witnessed 
 appalled him. But, during those moments of 
 stress, loyalty to his friend was stronger even than 
 pity for the stricken girl. Luke felt certain that 
 Ulf loved her, as she assuredly loved him. 
 
 As he ran he thought; and slowly, surely, 
 thought drifted into prayer. 
 
 Luke prayed that Lilith might be restored to 
 health : then that she might be spared much pain : 
 
 then that if for some incomprehensible, super- 
 
 80
 
 Lilith Completes the Problem 
 
 human reason there must be pain in that little 
 community, it might be transferred from Lilith to 
 himself. 
 
 That was Luke's prayer, prayed for the sake of 
 Ulf. 
 
 As he ran, he raised hand to heaven as though 
 to grasp God's answer. 
 
 Within ten minutes he was at the monastery, 
 summoning the monk reputed to be especially 
 skilled in questions of bodily health and illness 
 Brother Andrew. 
 
 One glance at the patient was sufficient to 
 suggest to the reverend leech the prime remedy 
 and principal palliative in his pharmacopoeia. 
 
 " She must be bled," he said, and forthwith bled 
 her. The cupping did not lessen the fever or 
 diminish the pain. The patient continued to 
 moan and grow weaker. Ulf's words and his 
 careful, considerate hands were what chiefly 
 helped her. She sank rapidly. 
 
 The watchers waited. Luke was strangely 
 fascinated by the life and death struggle. Only 
 Ulf spoke, of smiling hope and forced happiness. 
 She too weak now to feel pain fastened her 
 gaze on him. Her eyes looked him through 
 searchingly, as though she endeavoured to read 
 the one unexpressed secret that bound them. 
 
 Gradually her face was lighted with a smile: it 
 
 81
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 seemed that her weakness and pain were van- 
 quished. 
 
 The end was evidently near, so Brother Andrew 
 ceased to be doctor and became priest. He pre- 
 pared for the last offices. He motioned Ulf to 
 stand aside. The jester hesitated, but realising 
 the priestly intentions, was about to obey, when 
 Lilith eagerly gripped his wrist. 
 
 " I must remain here, Father," he said. 
 
 " Then kneel," the monk commanded; and Ulf, 
 still holding her hand, knelt, as did the others. 
 
 Luke was, during those minutes, beyond thought 
 of prayer. He could only unintelligently stare. 
 A deep, vague sense of pity was in his heart: in 
 his mind were insistent, intolerable questions 
 What was the meaning of this problem of pain? 
 Why did a harmless girl thus suffer ? Why should 
 guiltless Ulf and her parents be struck this cruel 
 blow? 
 
 A short time only was necessary for the monk's 
 practised lips to say the final words of ghostly 
 comfort and spiritual appeal; then again, he 
 slipped to the background to pray and to press his 
 beads, while with expressionless eyes he gazed at 
 the wall beyond the deathbed. 
 
 The crisis came suddenly. The girl shivered, 
 as though icy fingers had touched her. Sharp 
 
 pain convulsed her body. She half-rose and, 
 
 82
 
 Lilith Completes the Problem 
 
 frenzied, threw her arm about Ulf's neck, clinging 
 to him convulsively. 
 
 " Ulf, one day! I wait! " 
 
 So she died. Ulf closed her eyelids; and like a 
 man in a maze, composed her hair, crossed her 
 arms on her breast; and then, giving no word 
 voice, went hastily out of the cottage. The mother 
 at once began to make noisy mourning, while 
 Yorg tried, unsuccessfully, to hide the fact that he 
 was crying. 
 
 Brother Andrew for some time longer continued 
 his prayers. 
 
 Luke finding his presence useless, went after 
 Ulf, and walked with him under the trees by the 
 side of the lake. Each brought closer by this 
 catastrophe, was thinking dark thoughts, too deep 
 for words. In the jester's heart was agony and 
 angry revolt. He grudged the stolen life. His 
 grief found expression in fiery wrath. He hated 
 with especial intensity all things religious : Heaven 
 and the visible, invisible Church his heart railed 
 against silently. So in deep bitterness Ulf 
 mourned. 
 
 With Luke it was different. He was stunned 
 by the shock of death. It was, practically, a new 
 experience to him. He remembered Kelp dead; 
 but there was infinite difference between the 
 circumstances of that ending and of this. Kelp, 
 
 83
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 who died without pain, was a tired man, content 
 to go. Luke also had been too young then to 
 feel deep regret ; and what sorrow the boy mourner 
 felt was salved by the fact of his succession to the 
 proud though very humble responsibilities of his 
 foster-father. 
 
 This death was different. 
 
 Luke grasped his comrade's hand, wishing to 
 soothe his evident anguish, and so for a long while 
 they walked along unregarded woodland ways. 
 
 Ulf found speech at last. " She is dead dead ! " 
 he exclaimed. " I shall never speak fables for her 
 comfort again. Lilith ! O Lilith she is dead ! " 
 
 Ulf's broken appeal brought blessed tears to 
 both of them. Luke grasped his friend's shoulder ; 
 instinctively their arms went about each other in 
 affectionate embrace. 
 
 So they parted for that day, while overhead the 
 stars, indifferent to human pains and problems, 
 were beginning to pierce the amber of evening. 
 
 84
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 AN APPEAL TO WISDOM 
 
 THE death of Lilith, through some subtle, indirect 
 association, renewed in the mind of Luke more 
 vivid impressions of Alys. That myth-maiden 
 she was in fact little more than that though 
 elusive, was quite real to him, governing many of 
 his thoughts and aspirations. 
 
 Years had passed since the visit of Alys ; Luke 
 had with unloverlike contentment not sought to 
 see her since. Yet his concept of her personality 
 was so impressed on his mind that its phantasm 
 had become to him almost as real as her speaking 
 presence would have been. Like many another 
 though no other in Argovie could be quite com- 
 pared with him, as all others were more mundane- 
 minded than he he was in love, deeply in love; 
 with a mind-thing, a dream-being. 
 
 Then from thinking of Alys, his mind proceeded 
 to the remembrance of the chattering girls. The 
 contrast ! Six giggling caricatures of Woman the 
 divine! Yet were they living beings, born to 
 
 85
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 carry burdens and wield influence as effective if 
 they liked as any human influence could be ; and 
 they regarded their coming destiny no more than 
 a sparrow thinks of to-morrow. 
 
 By their side the young visionary put Alys 
 perfection ! the wonder-girl ! and then, that 
 other type Lilith, the maid of misfortune; who 
 after a life of illness had died, disappointed, in 
 pain. Why had she been born to endure such 
 misery and trouble ? Where was the necessity for 
 such purposeless sacrifice ? It was the old recur- 
 ring question! Why? 
 
 He came upon two monks walking through the 
 wood, talking earnestly. He hesitated at first to 
 intrude on them ; but insistent anxiety to discover 
 his quarry, the truth, impelled him to address 
 them. The Church was its guardian. Her repre- 
 sentatives, if they could do so, must tell. He 
 hurried towards the brethren. They were Cle- 
 ment, whom he had called at the monastery 
 unavailingly to consult, and Andrew. With the 
 exception of his trusted Hilary, there were none 
 more likely than these to help him in the wise, 
 kind way. So he told himself. 
 
 " You called at the monastery to see me, but 
 went before I could come to you," said Clement, 
 with severity. 
 
 " I am sorry, Father. I was sorely tempted 
 86
 
 An Appeal to Wisdom 
 
 with horrible, doubting thoughts, and could bear 
 the suspense no longer." 
 
 "You fled!" 
 
 " I fled. It seemed as if I was flying from 
 fiends. I was weak, Father ; and afterwards was 
 ashamed." 
 
 Clement stood regarding him thoughtfully. " It 
 is the strong soul that is worst assailed. But you 
 should not have fled. Did you not dip your fingers 
 in holy water, and make the sign of the cross ? " 
 
 " No, my troubles were to me too insistent, 
 difficult, too heavy, for them to be relieved by holy 
 water. I wanted then, and I want now, reasons, 
 helpful reasons against my doubts." 
 
 Brother Andrew had pursed his lips and was 
 looking sharply at the swineherd. 
 
 " Do you speak lightly of the practices of 
 Churchmen? " he asked severely. 
 
 " No, no, Father," Luke replied hurriedly. 
 " How can I say it? I am troubled daily with 
 horrible doubts, thoughts which I hate keep worry- 
 ing my mind. I believe always believe; yet 
 why should I so believe? " 
 
 Then Clement of the kind voice and considerate 
 spirit with a gesture intervened. Luke's earnest- 
 ness and candour appealed to him. He realised 
 that this was no ordinary mortal whose enquiries 
 would be satisfied with patronage and small 
 
 87
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 change. But he said nothing. His silence was 
 an invitation to speech. 
 
 At once Luke plunged into his simple story, as 
 he paced beside them towards the monastery. 
 
 " All that I have in this world even my life," 
 he began, " I owe to the monks and good folk of 
 this monastery. I was a foundling, abandoned in 
 the pigsty. Who my father and mother were I do 
 not know, possibly never shall know. Whoever 
 and whatever they were noble or base, rich or 
 poor is all one to me now. I was a deserted 
 infant, only a few hours old, when Kelp and Mause 
 found me in the pigsty and lovingly tended me. 
 I rose from that cradle to be swineherd ; and from 
 you and the reverend Fathers, my protectors; 
 from the menials of the monastery also they too, 
 my masters I have received everything which I 
 can call mine. 
 
 " Except my thoughts and dreams. Them God 
 sent me. Dreams have always been coming to 
 me in the woods and meadows, under the trees, 
 among the flowers and grasses, when it was 
 sunshine, when it was starshine everywhere, any- 
 where, so long as there was solitude or the com- 
 pany of that one friend whose coming changed 
 it to solitude enriched. I have seen visions. I 
 have enj oyed dreams. I tell you this, Fathers, not 
 
 because they have to do with my present soreness 
 
 88
 
 An Appeal to Wisdom 
 
 of heart and mind, but because from them you 
 may know that I did not waste my earlier hours 
 in sloth." 
 
 " The mind does not rust in brave dreams," 
 remarked Clement. 
 
 " But on that basis of visions unconsciously 
 was being prepared a thought-building which 
 experience of sorrows has now erected suddenly." 
 
 "The sermon grows lengthy!" muttered 
 Andrew. 
 
 " I lived in the full knowledge that God was 
 all love and all power : all power, yet if it were 
 possible to be so more love than power. I 
 believed that all existence was thronged with, 
 and dominated by, His love and power that 
 everywhere the angels were bound to be triumph- 
 ant; that friends and fiends and evil men might 
 for 'a little while, in the darkness tempting weak- 
 ness, destroy some virtue; but that with the 
 return of the light and presence of the angels, the 
 wrong would come to be surely righted. That 
 was my faith a little while ago. 
 
 " Then a question was asked in my presence by 
 a wise and trusted comrade the friend of my life. 
 What is truth? was the question. For the first 
 time, so, I learned there was not one certain 
 answer to all the enquiries of men, and that the 
 
 answer of the Church to every question which 
 
 89
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 honesty might ask, which fallible men on earth 
 must be entitled to ask, was not entirely accept- 
 able, because it answered not out of knowledge 
 but out of faith. 
 
 " That discovery was to me like a new trumpet- 
 note sounding from a pit of silence. A hundred 
 questions crowded my mind, some of which my 
 eyes and heart could answer; others are not 
 answered yet, perhaps will not be answered till 
 my mind is out of the flesh. But these, Fathers, 
 are the most important. Will you give me your 
 assistance and help me to find the comforting, 
 satisfying answer which must be in the Church's 
 keeping, if the Church really is God's presence on 
 earth? " 
 
 " The Church really is God's presence on earth," 
 echoed Andrew with the voice of confident faith. 
 But Luke would not to interrupted. 
 
 " These are some of the questions for which I 
 strive to find answers. If God is love, how is it 
 there is pain and purposeless cruelty in the world ? 
 If God is all-powerful, why is that purposeless 
 wrong-doing not prevented by Him? " 
 
 " The answer," said Clement slowly, " is that 
 this earth is not all the journey. Wrong done 
 now is punished in the hereafter." 
 
 " Yes, yes; that is a reply. But in the case of 
 
 a bird cruelly slaughtered " 
 
 90
 
 An Appeal to Wisdom 
 
 " Oh, a bird! " commented the monk, thought- 
 fully. " I was thinking of humanity and the soul 
 of man." 
 
 " Here is my problem, Father. I hope you will 
 help me to a right decision. The friend of whom 
 I have spoken loved a tame bird his love and 
 care had tamed it, though it lived free in this 
 wood. I saw that robin struck by a hawk ; after 
 a little fluttering it died. The bird harmed 
 nothing, and with its gladness gave joy to my 
 friend. Why should it be wantonly slaughtered, 
 and before that, even only for moments, suffer 
 pain? " 
 
 " Are you not making a great deal out of very 
 little ? " answered Clement thoughtfully. " There 
 is pain throughout the earth man as well as the 
 creatures feel it. I cannot deny that there is 
 much wanton cruelty and consequent suffering in 
 this life. But after life, is there not peace for 
 the virtuous? " 
 
 " For the bird ? " 
 
 " Possibly for the bird." 
 
 " This may be little, Father, but it means much 
 to me. You say, ' possibly for the bird.' You 
 do not you cannot speak with certainty. This 
 little difficulty is the root, the pivot, of the whole 
 problem. It is all based on an ' if.' You, Father, 
 as the wisest man in a monastery which stands for
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 light in the eyes of so many of us oh, I wish you 
 would indignantly deny that God could passively 
 permit cruelty even to the small and weak, from 
 birds to men and women " 
 
 " I do deny it! " said Brother Andrew vehe- 
 mently. 
 
 " And satisfy me Father, my soul yearns for 
 it with some sufficient reason." 
 
 Brother Andrew snorted indignantly. Only the 
 respect he, and all, felt for Clement prevented his 
 rioting in denunciatory phrases. It puzzled him 
 to find Clement who could meet on their own 
 ground and vanquish the most cunning of the 
 rhetorical Schoolmen of the day attending with 
 curious respect to the more than doubtful argu- 
 ments of a pig-herd. 
 
 " Ah, Luke," said Clement at last, " do not 
 forget that we are men, that the wisest of us is 
 only a little released from the ignorance wherewith 
 we were dowered at birth. The world is swathed 
 in mystery. Only little by little can man pierce 
 the mystery to find still more mystery beyond it 
 infinite, inviolable. Reason is a blessed thing, 
 but its range is limited. Reason at best does 
 little to help us discover the hidden heart of man. 
 How can we hope, by its means only, to fathom 
 the infinite heart of God? " 
 
 Luke was impressed by this prudent and modest 
 92
 
 An Appeal to Wisdom 
 
 statement of Brother Clement. A great gladness 
 was within him, because he had discovered a man, 
 who, finding difficulties, did not shut his eyes 
 against them, but received them, considered them 
 fully, and still could hold the faith. Luke was 
 gratified by Clement's spirit of sympathy which 
 must be akin to his own ; akin to every one's who 
 had affection for others. His yearning for light 
 was a yearning for the realization of the reign of 
 love, and not, in effect, destructive. But the monk 
 had avoided the question he had directly asked. 
 Luke did not overlook the omission; but said 
 nothing about it. 
 
 It was Brother Andrew who disturbed the 
 placidity which Clement's diplomacy had pro- 
 duced. 
 
 " It does no good to be trying to find out what 
 is not to be found out," he said in a tone similar 
 to that adopted by Clement. " What the Church 
 teaches, that you may believe. What the Church 
 does not teach, it is as well not to enquire about. 
 Adam and Eve were happy until they ate of the 
 tree of knowledge." 
 
 " Ay, Father, but it is not happiness, it is the 
 truth that I seek." 
 
 " Be content then with happiness and leave the 
 truth to wiser men! " 
 
 " I cannot now, Father. It is too late. There 
 93
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 is no happiness in living without thinking and 
 trying to find the truth about life and the after- 
 life. That is the pig's existence. I am a man." 
 
 " You are very like a fool! " cried Andrew. 
 " Remember Adam and Eve. They were curious 
 after hidden things. They sinned through greed 
 for knowledge. Their eyes were opened; they 
 lost Paradise. Think you that when compelled to 
 labour and know want in the wilderness they did 
 not lament the happy ignorance lost? Be wise, 
 fool and avoid the pains of the wilderness." 
 
 Luke grew excited through the monk's upbraid- 
 ing. He would have answered hotly, forgetting 
 the relative positions of Andrew and himself, had 
 not the diplomatic Clement once more intervened. 
 
 " Think carefully of my brother's caution," he 
 said. " It is customary for youth to rush full-tilt 
 at things, whether it be the young knight charging 
 an enemy, or the young thinker facing problems. 
 You have time and can afford to wait. You will 
 then see behind a great deal that now seems all 
 perplexity. You exaggerate the importance of 
 the death of this bird. Remembering what the 
 Scriptures have taught me, I can tell you that even 
 the mysterious cruelty of a bird's death may be 
 left till one can read more surely the full meaning 
 of the mercy of God." 
 
 " The death of the bird is not all, Father," cried 
 94
 
 An Appeal to Wisdom 
 
 Luke. " It is only a minor difficulty. There are 
 many greater than that. Would that it were the 
 only one! There is the death of Lilith a girl 
 who died young after years of constant pain 
 and " 
 
 Clement interrupted him. " Be content to let 
 the difficulties rest till you are wiser. Pray to 
 God for guidance: avoid discomforting and de- 
 stroying thoughts." 
 
 " How can I ? I must think, and through 
 thinking find problems. It is wisdom which ex- 
 plains them that is why I have come to the 
 Church, to you." 
 
 " You need not fear thinking if you constantly 
 pray also ; if through thought the devils assail you, 
 pray; and the saints and angels will help." 
 
 " I do not fear thinking. I do not know that I 
 fear anything temptation or anything earthly. 
 But I do want to know and believe in what is just 
 and true." 
 
 Clement made no reply, perhaps his patience 
 was exhausted. He turned his back abruptly on 
 Luke, and walked away. 
 
 Andrew seeing his brother's action, plucked up 
 courage to speak roughly to Luke. 
 
 " Swineherd, you are foolish to babble as you 
 do. It is not for you to question and ask for 
 answers. What does it matter if you are lost in 
 
 95
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 mazes and do not get the truth? You must 
 believe what you are told, as other men do ; and 
 if you do not like that, must disbelieve in silence." 
 
 Luke was somewhat stunned by this outburst. 
 He bowed his head, submissive. He knew his 
 humble circumstances. He was subordinate truly, 
 but his heart ached with sharp agony at this 
 result of his entreaties. 
 
 Clement, however, hearing Andrew's outburst, 
 turned to say not unkindly: " If you have other 
 difficulties, Luke, on which you wish for light, seek 
 audience of the Abbot. Ask only him, hence- 
 forth." 
 
 The two monks returned to the monastery. 
 
 Luke, leaning against the rough rind of an elm- 
 tree, watched them until they passed into the 
 darkness. Then came to him all the force of 
 the blow which disappointment, caused by their 
 counsel, had produced. Andrew's words had 
 stunned him : not till now did he feel the resultant 
 pain. 
 
 In that dim hour, when depression was heavy 
 upon him, he heard again the evil voices which 
 haunted and beset him in the chapel. Ear of man 
 could not have heard them, for they were mute : but 
 silent though they were, they clamoured loudly 
 within the channels of his brain. His mind his 
 
 nerves were racked and tortured by them. He 
 
 96
 
 An Appeal to Wisdom 
 
 turned shivering, and raised arms imploringly to 
 the young stars gleaming from the velvet blue 
 night-sky. 
 
 "God help me! God help me!" his lips 
 muttered. The fact of making the appeal brought 
 relief for one moment. Immediately afterwards 
 the tempter's gibes and sneers and insolent queries 
 recommenced to torture his haunted brain; and 
 he saw or imagined, faintly white in the shadows 
 of the wood, the pain-stricken face of Lilith, with 
 hopeless despair in the eyes. 
 
 He was hard tempted. It seemed as if the 
 being -within himself his soul implored for a 
 spoken profession of no faith. He felt strongly 
 that to have said three words of blasphemy would 
 have given him physical relief. He was near 
 indeed to the commission of the sin; but he set 
 his lips and sank on his knees thinking, thinking a 
 passionate prayer for succour. 
 
 " God help me! God help me! " was the re- 
 peated appeal. Heart as well as mind, limbs as 
 well as soul, seemed unanimous in expressing the 
 prayer. 
 
 Then he had answer, though he saw it not: 
 eyes of flesh being blind to the world of the spirits. 
 Luke, fallen prone, was lying on his face amid 
 dank grass and dead leaves. So exhausted was 
 he through this trial and the subsequent spiritual 
 
 97 D
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 effort, that he could do nothing but lie there and 
 be conscious of his great weakness. 
 
 So he saw it not. He saw nothing of the fiends 
 who had followed him, and scourged him with 
 the serpent-whips of doubt. Nor the one angel, 
 armed and magnificent, flashing with the golden 
 brightness of the powers of virtue, whose sudden 
 appearance drove the enemies in panic away. 
 
 Luke was blind to this comedy in the invisible. 
 Man knows so little of the realities. All he was 
 conscious of was his own unworthiness. Through- 
 out that period of sorrowing impotence, he hun- 
 gered eagerly, more eagerly than ever for 
 the truth about the true.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 " PERUEL! PERUEL! " 
 
 IT was several days before Luke saw Ulf again. 
 The jester stayed at home with his grief; he 
 mourned in secret; whereas Luke was unable 
 to go far from the demesnes of the monastery. 
 So for a while they did not meet. 
 
 When the sorrow in Ulf s heart was in large 
 measure subdued, and no longer fiery pain, he 
 resumed his wanderings and came to the swine- 
 herd. For a time the two remained silent, though 
 in silence they held communion. It seemed as if 
 mind spoke to mind, needing no framework of 
 words. Then Ulf's indignation found voice. 
 
 "Is it not all a lie? a sardonic mockery? 
 Where is the love, justice, mercy, power, in this ? " 
 
 " Hush, Ulf," counselled Luke, startled by the 
 passion of his friend's outburst. 
 
 " The life we lead is built on a base of lies. 
 Things happen sans rhyme and reason, because 
 there is no guiding hand where a good hand 
 should be guiding. Accidents happen; and men 
 blindly call them fate! Here, again, is pain and 
 death where life and happiness were more fitting. 
 
 99
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Where was the wisdom and purpose of Lilith's 
 going? " Ulf proceeded further along the dark 
 pathway. " God is the name men give to chance, 
 because men are frightened victims of chance. 
 They are gamblers all, and think to propitiate 
 blind accident by giving it another name and 
 founding a system of virtues and persons to fit 
 their dreams. Fools ! fools ! Now Lilith is gone ! 
 I shall never see Lilith again ; and all the memo- 
 ries I have of her must be of a girl in pain, to 
 be for ever afterwards dust! Why should she 
 die while so many thousand slimy creatures who 
 babble and waste the earth are allowed to live? 
 Why? The answer is bitterly easy. Because 
 there is no justice, no ruling power no God! it 
 is all a scramble. The gross live and flourish : the 
 weak and unselfish go to the grave ! Life is based 
 upon a black system of lies lies! " 
 
 " Poor Ulf! " said Luke, leaning over and plac- 
 ing a hand gently on his comrade's shoulder. " I 
 know you have suffered, and am glad you let me 
 share your mourning : but do not rail at things too 
 wildly. I question too and have questioned the 
 monks " 
 
 "The monks! hooded hypocrites!" 
 
 " I have asked them as the minds and voices of 
 Mother Church." 
 
 " Mother Church ! Ah, God ! " 
 
 IOO
 
 " Peruel ! Peruel ! ' 
 
 " To help me find an answer to the question 
 you are asking. As yet I have not found the 
 answer " 
 
 "It is all one lie!" 
 
 " But I shall find it. When I am alone I have 
 every doubt. Plain things seem so difficult, and 
 man's faith mere credulity. I yearn for light that 
 I may discover the truth; but always in my 
 thought, as, alas, in my enquiries of the monks, I 
 am baffled. Yet when you speak as you have 
 spoken, defiantly, I feel confident that what is best 
 in our hopes is true. Such confidence is part of 
 my being. I shall continue to ask and endeavour 
 to discover as long as I have thoughts and a 
 tongue. To find truth is difficult: but she lives 
 and will show herself some day." 
 
 Ulf made no answer then. He sat crouching 
 forward, his eyes fixedly set on a brown spot in 
 the turf before him. A sad face it was that peered 
 from out of the fool's rumpled hood. There were 
 about the eyes lines absent a week before. The 
 weariness often evident in his face was now 
 accentuated. 
 
 Presently he put hand in pouch and brought out 
 bread-crumbs, which he scattered over the grass 
 till the expectant birds came and pecked at them. 
 In the depths of his pain he had not forgotten the 
 
 birds. 
 
 101
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Diversion came in unexpected guise. An old 
 woman, grumbling and muttering, shuffled along 
 the road over which Luke's unknown parents had 
 shambled during the night of his birth. 
 
 Her clothes were faded rags. Her body was 
 bent with age. Her face covered with wrinkles, 
 and very filthy. Her bare head was partly bald ; 
 what hair clung to the skull was dark at the roots 
 with dirt. Her form shook with a palsy. The 
 hand clutching the pole that helped her feeble 
 progress was gnarled and thin. But her eyes were 
 keen. The light in them, whether of sanity or 
 madness, was far from quenched. She did not 
 notice Luke and Ulf until quite close to them. 
 Then she stood and scowled, while her sunken lips 
 mumbled. : 
 
 " Peace be with you, mother," was Ulf's 
 greeting. 
 
 " Peace be with me ? Are ye mocking me, 
 rascals? " She raised her voice to an angry 
 screech, and shook a bent finger at them. " I 
 know you, ah, the men of this cruel day ! I know 
 you only too well ! For seventy-seven years have 
 I lived, and never since I can remember has the 
 sun gone down on a day which has not been hurt 
 with a curse or a cruelty. Peace be with me ! Oh, 
 mocking fool! I would love to scratch you and 
 hurt those artful eyes." 
 
 IO2
 
 " Peruel ! Peruel ! ' 
 
 " Peace, mother, we wish you no harm," said 
 Ulf again. 
 
 " Liar! " she answered instantly. " You are 
 men, therefore you must mean harm. All men 
 do. They dub me witch! Say I have the evil 
 eye ! Say that with foul glances and incantations 
 I kill cattle, spread disease, give illnesses to 
 children ah! There is no name, no lie, too 
 ugly or foul to hurl at an old woman in these 
 days of noisy knighthood and jumping chivalry, 
 of sweet and holy religion and love of wastrel 
 women." 
 
 Luke walked over to her, and said gently, 
 " Mother, you wrong us when you speak thus. 
 We " 
 
 " Wrong you ? " the beldame interrupted shrilly, 
 mocking his tone. " You would say that, brown 
 knave ! Being shaped something like a man the 
 spoilt image of a miscreated maid wrong is right, 
 right wrong, in your eye. To hell with both of 
 you! May hell have you! I want no Heaven! 
 I want I long to see my tormentors tortured! 
 To see the flames curling round their strong limbs, 
 and fiends throwing fire into their sneering faces. 
 Go your ways! I'll say no more to ye! " She 
 turned abruptly, and happened to see the cross 
 above the monastery. 
 
 Rage seized her: sent her into frenzies. She 
 103
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 threw down her staff in a passion, and glowered 
 with mad eyes at them, who stood troubled by. 
 
 " You belong to that house of Satan! Would 
 that I had evil words enough wherewith to curse 
 you, and it, and all in that house of psalms and 
 evil. My cruellest persecutors have been monks, 
 priests, and the bullies and wastrels who for 
 comfort or company pluck at the skirts of their 
 cassocks. They have just because I'm old and 
 ugly wasted my hearth, broken my home, lied 
 about me, set boys to mock at me, women to teach 
 their babies to fear me, men to cudgel and duck 
 me in stinking ponds ; and always given me pain, 
 cold, hunger pain and pain! " 
 
 This outburst roused Ulf from his lethargy. He 
 rose, an angry light in his eyes. 
 
 " Fool-woman! cease your silly rancour. We 
 are no persecutors, or ill-doers, but poor men with 
 few friends. Why do you rail at us? " 
 
 She stared at him: her glance grew duller, 
 gentler. She bent to raise her staff, but Luke 
 stooped and placed it in her hand. She took it, 
 and then glanced quietly from Luke to Ulf, from 
 Ulf to Luke with broken mind, measuring their 
 sincerity. They said nothing, but watched piti- 
 fully and waited. Evidently she was satisfied, for 
 now she spoke with the voice of aged weakness, 
 
 the energy of anger was gone. She stood there 
 
 104
 
 " Peruel ! Peruel ! ' 
 
 leaning on her staff, a decaying monument of 
 human misery. 
 
 " I am, truly, not in my full wits when I rail as 
 I have been doing; but the hands and curses of 
 men have been heavy on me. Years ago, while I 
 could help, I loved and helped my heart was a 
 heart of love yearning to do good and make life 
 kinder; but as I grew older, uglier, more lonely, 
 men's opinion of me changed. They persecuted 
 me : and my power for love was turned to a power 
 for hate. I cursed, was taught to curse. I met 
 railing and hate with railing and hate, until now 
 I cannot help railing and I must hate. I pray you 
 who have spoken to me kindly forgive an old 
 woman who is hungering to die! " 
 
 " Peace be with you, mother," said Ulf. He 
 found in his pouch a silver coin, and pressed it 
 upon her. She mumbled inarticulately as she 
 hobbled away. 
 
 They watched her till the bend of the road hid 
 her. Then bitterness re-entering Ulf's heart, he 
 said: 
 
 " And of such is the Kingdom of Heaven." 
 
 Luke made no comment. He was thinking of 
 her malediction of the Church. 
 
 Jester and swineherd roused from their grief, 
 interrupted in their problems by this incident, 
 tramped through the wood towards Earl 
 
 105 D2
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Rudolph's castle, Ulf's prison and home. But, 
 though they conversed heartily, their voices were 
 not expressing all their thoughts; for during that 
 woodland walk while the orange sun was casting 
 blue shadows beneath the trees each had per- 
 sistently in mind Lilith. But they only 
 mentioned her name during their words of 
 farewell. 
 
 Luke became oppressed with the idea of Death. 
 The fruits of the slaughter of Nature seemed 
 everywhere, during his march homeward. He 
 had never before seen such prodigal evidence of 
 the after-end of life. It seemed as if invisible 
 guides were leading him through strange path- 
 ways, deliberately stimulating his morbid wonder, 
 purposely arousing his saddened curiosity, for, 
 with extraordinary frequency, he came upon white 
 or yellow bones, skulls and bleached fragments of 
 animals. Every hollow seemed a dumb creature's 
 open sepulchre. 
 
 " God, what does it mean ? Where is love here ? 
 Anger and death everywhere! Where are mercy 
 and love? " 
 
 In his mind's eye he saw, somewhat after the 
 manner of Ezekiel, the dead bones re-clothed with 
 flesh, endowed again with breathing and identity. 
 He saw the bodies of what were now yellow 
 
 skeletons hurrying along lusty with life, proud in 
 
 106
 
 " Peruel ! Peruel ! ' 
 
 their wild beauty. Then, with lightning sudden- 
 ness, the living creatures were stricken by Death's 
 invisible hand, to lie with rotting flesh until 
 Nature's scavengers had brought them to bones 
 bleached bones again. Thus, in his mind's eye 
 Luke saw creatures, for no evident reason, given 
 life: and then, still without evident reason, given 
 death. What was the reason, the root of this 
 mystery ? Why was it so ? Was not that vision 
 of life budding, blooming, decayed; existence 
 epitomised ? 
 
 If for an end in the world similar to the trees, 
 to blossom and bear fruit they must be born and 
 die, why did the Creator who was called Love 
 permit pain and wanton cruelty to be parts of the 
 transaction ? 
 
 He was pacing along, deep in meditation. Day 
 had slowly darkened. Night had come. White 
 stars gleamed. A great moon crept from the 
 horizon and hung, a vast silver lantern, in the 
 south. The trunks and branches of trees were 
 silhouetted against it. Night birds piped and 
 called. There were mysterious sobs and creaking. 
 The voices of the wood breathed about him. He 
 was touched with the familiar awe of the forest at 
 night. 
 
 Suddenly, a peal of uncanny laughter greeted 
 
 him. He stopped, with ears intent and flesh 
 
 107
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 creeping, to gauge the character and whereabouts 
 of the noise. But silence the twitter and stir 
 which is silence in the forest still lay undisturbed 
 about him. He continued his way, having de- 
 cided it was a loud bird-call, or shriek of some 
 frightened animal, which, in the depth of his con- 
 templation of mysterious things, his ears had 
 misunderstood. Then ting, tang, ting the reas- 
 suring chimes of the monastery bell proclaimed 
 compline. The music wafted over a distance 
 touched his sensibility. In the loneliness and 
 shadows of the forest it spoke of humanity and 
 divine ideals. Under the spell of the moment he 
 crossed himself and sunk to his knees, emotional, 
 to pray. In real humility he asked for greater 
 humility, and, with simplicity, prayed that vanity 
 might not mislead him in his quest of the 
 true. 
 
 Again, as if greeting his prayer, like a stroke 
 of bitter pain, came the mocking laughter: now 
 not a single peal, but in riotous, increasing 
 volume as though a sinister multitude were 
 about him. 
 
 He looked up surprised, and stared: while fear 
 and dread crept coldly through him. Then he 
 saw. 
 
 Wherever he gazed, fiends were kneeling as he 
 
 knelt, their hands clasped as were his. Every 
 108
 
 "Peruel! Peruel ! ' 
 
 motion he made, his expressions also, were 
 repeated, exaggerated, caricatured, by them. 
 
 In panic foolishness, he once more made the 
 sign of the cross. Every one of the devils, simul- 
 taneously, dared to do likewise. Prayers un- 
 spoken sprang from his heart. His lips gave the 
 words mute expression. The mouths of the fiends 
 moved also, grotesquely mimicking. 
 
 Throughout that experience he could hear the 
 gentle monastery bell and see the moon's beauty. 
 To avoid the horrid vision, he looked for the stars ; 
 but the wings of evil, hovering, obscured the 
 lights. He was surrounded with danger and 
 kneeling in an avenue of dread. 
 
 He rose to his feet and started towards the 
 monastery, guided by the call of the bell. He 
 stepped cautiously, fearing to touch the horrid 
 shapes. Tangible or intangible he abhorred them. 
 He had gone but a little way, when shrilly, the 
 peals of dreadful laughter came again from the 
 mocking multitude. Then as one lurid, hateful 
 cloud, the tormentors rose, extended wings, and 
 flew into invisibility, leaving Luke with wonder 
 oppressed. 
 
 Voices spoke to him out of the flying multitude, 
 but his numbed senses could not accept their 
 message. Afterwards, when they were gone, and 
 
 there was nothing left to disturb the absolute 
 
 109
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 majesty of the night, his brain automatically 
 
 repeated some mystic words. 
 
 "Peruel! Peruel! Peruel! . . . Return!" 
 " What does it mean ? " he asked himself. " Is 
 
 life a dream? Who am I? What does it 
 
 mean? " 
 
 no
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 JOHN AND JEROME 
 
 MAUSE, Luke's mother, met him at the door of 
 their dwelling with the news that Brother Jerome 
 had summoned him to the monastery. An omin- 
 ous anxiety darkened the old woman's counten- 
 ance as she gave the news; Luke's heart was 
 troubled by the uncertainties confronting him. 
 Never before had he been sent for in this manner. 
 What could it mean? He, as did all the depen- 
 dents, feared and disliked Jerome of the bitter 
 tongue. 
 
 There was no alternative to immediate obedi- 
 ence. He went to the monastery and was admitted 
 by the whispering janitor, whose usually friendly 
 eyes looked at him with cold unfriendliness. Luke 
 noticed this silent judgment, but was too proud 
 in his humility to ask for reasons. 
 
 He passed, as usual, into the chapel to wait 
 until Brother Jerome was ready to receive him. 
 Before he could kneel or make any of the custom- 
 ary acts of faith and reverence he heard his name 
 
 called in a raucous voice, and saw another monk, 
 
 in
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 also in his way a notoriety, shuffling towards him. 
 This was Brother John. 
 
 A large gross man was he, not clean, and with- 
 out one obvious refinement. His girdled robe 
 was greasy, worn, and torn. His sandals fitted 
 loosely, and with their sliding and clatter caused 
 his gait to seem more slovenly than it was. His 
 eyes were small and dull; his nose an irreligious 
 red. His teeth were yellow and bad, his chin ill- 
 shaven, his nails gnawed to the quick. He was 
 in all characteristics but ugliness Luke was not 
 beautiful the complete reverse of the youth, 
 whose life belonged to the pigs. 
 
 " You're a fool," the monk said, quickly and 
 breathlessly; his lungs were not easy. " You're 
 bringing trouble on yourself. Why poke a hor- 
 net's nest when the hornets sleep? Your fool- 
 questions are doing the devil's mischief in the 
 in the holy brotherhood. Be wise and stay mum : 
 tell the Abbot you're sorry. I'm speaking as 
 your friend, young fool! " 
 
 Luke was distressed to hear that trouble 
 threatened. John's vague warning was worse 
 than direct denunciation would be. The monk 
 read his silence as obstinacy. 
 
 " I see you're a fool. Pouf ! It's like mouthing 
 music to deaf ears to talk sense to a fool. What 
 will you do if the Abbot sends you packing? 
 
 112
 
 John and Jerome 
 
 Starve. No one will help you. You'll have to 
 share crusts with the outlaws, and live by robbery 
 and bullying. You will! You wont? You will, 
 young fool! Listen to me! What's to be got 
 by being sent adrift? Nothing worth having. 
 Stay here: hold your tongue. Look after the 
 pigs. Say your prayers so that your neighbours 
 can hear them, show you're loyal to Mother 
 Church. Let the saints see you're not a fool 
 then you can eat, drink, sleep. What more do 
 you want ? " 
 
 " A very great deal, Father." 
 
 "Then you're a fool! You've been drinking. 
 Have you ? No, you don't look as if you boused." 
 He rubbed his ill-shaven cheek, pondering. " You 
 must be crazed in your wits. Only fools, or 
 children, or crazy eld, ask questions which haven't 
 any answer. You're too old, young fool. Get 
 your wits into order; laugh, make merry. Look 
 at me! I pray; but I laugh make merry, too. 
 Lent only lasts for six blessed weeks; if you keep 
 asking questions and worrying your soul over 
 the blessed mysteries, your whole life is Lenten. 
 Pouf ! Be a man, a jovial man. Marry a wench. 
 Learn a few stories. Crack jests. Have children. 
 They'll knock the sickness out of your wits. 
 Young fool! " 
 
 Luke listened with the semblance of respect, 
 "3
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 but his heart was hot with horror. The monk's 
 personality expressed unctuous selfishness, gross 
 indulgence. His words were nearly saintly in 
 comparison with his presence and manner of 
 speaking. Listening to him was like looking with 
 drunken eyes through the dirty windows of a 
 house of ill-repute. John, noting the youth's 
 thoughtful silence, supposed his advice was to be 
 fruitful. 
 
 He clapped him jovially on the shoulder. 
 " You're not such a fool as you look ! " he creaked. 
 His voice had the music of rusted hinges. " Take 
 the words of a monk who knows a man, and 
 doesn't despise the bonny things of life." He 
 sighed such a blast of vinous breath! " What 
 a day's work it was when God created Eve! 
 Ah, the beautiful women! My boy, you are not 
 meant for starvation and misery or " another 
 stupendous sigh " the celibate life." 
 
 That was the beginning and end of the charit- 
 able effort of John. He went his way well- 
 content. Luke could hear him blowing and 
 shuffling along the monastery's main passage until 
 an iron gate clanked behind him. Luke's heart 
 had not been strengthened through that experi- 
 ence; indeed, his own uncertainty was stronger 
 in consequence of the vast monk's breathless 
 
 expostulation. 
 
 114
 
 John and Jerome 
 
 He had not to endure for long that ordeal of 
 foreboding. The brother who kept the door came, 
 bidding him follow. Luke was conducted to 
 Jerome's cell. As he entered the small and com- 
 fortless place of prayer, repose, and vigil, he was 
 conscious that the most difficult hour of his life 
 had come. 
 
 Jerome was sitting on the bare board which was 
 his pallet. His long nervous fingers were playing 
 among the pages of a gorgeous missal which he 
 was reading or dreaming over. The moment the 
 swineherd stood waiting within the curtained 
 portal, the monk put the book beside him on the 
 bed-board and cast a piercing look of enquiry and 
 judgment at the face of the youth. Luke hid his 
 shyness and gazed frankly into the keen eyes 
 which searched his. Each was taking measure 
 of . the other's moral height and strength of 
 personality. 
 
 " The pigs do they prosper ? " the monk asked. 
 
 " Father, they prosper well." 
 
 There was significant silence for a moment. 
 Then the monk spoke again. 
 
 " It is a pity is it not? that so admirable a 
 swineherd should turn theologian? affect the 
 heretic? " 
 
 A flash of antagonism appeared in Jerome's 
 glance. His long lip curled almost impercep- 
 
 "5
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 tibly yet not imperceptibly in the sneer so well- 
 known, so hurtful to those who had to endure it. 
 Luke smarted with indignation at the contempt 
 and the injustice, but he gave no sign of his feel- 
 ing. He stood there silent ; his head bent respect- 
 fully ; eyes fixed on the mobile hands of the monk. 
 The ringers all the while were playing with the 
 beads of the rosary. Never for a moment were 
 they still. 
 
 " Have you any explanation to give for this 
 perversity? " the monk asked. 
 
 Luke was uncertain how to answer. It is so 
 easy for the simple reply of an inferior to seem 
 impertinent. 
 
 " Yes, Father, if you will hear me," he said. 
 
 " A devil has entered into you, Luke," broke in 
 the other without heed of his answer. " You have 
 set the monastery servants by the ears with your 
 foolish questions. How it has come about I do 
 not know, but it has come about. You must 
 unmake this work of madness at once. As a 
 humble suppliant penitent you must publicly 
 unmake it. If not, you will rue your insolence, 
 obstinacy, and presumption as long as you live." 
 
 Coldly and slowly the monk spoke. The 
 deliberate speech and the way in which he 
 watched Luke while speaking added to the un- 
 pleasantness of the words. They staggered Luke. 
 116
 
 John and Jerome 
 
 " Father, if by asking my questions I have done 
 mischief, I will do penance and suffer pain gladly ; 
 but I have never spoken of my troubles to any 
 except monks of this monastery and one other, 
 who has no concern with any of the lay-dependents 
 here." 
 
 " I charge you to tell me who that one is." 
 
 " Ulf, the jester to Earl Rudolph." 
 
 " Ulf, Rudolph's jester! So you, a servant of 
 the monastery, babble your spiritual troubles in 
 the ear of a fool the licensed fool of that trouble- 
 some, unlicensed lord. A pretty fellow for a 
 father confessor! " 
 
 " He is no mere fool ! " 
 
 " Luke, I do not believe you. I cannot believe 
 that you have not spread mischief among the folk 
 here when you can make a father confessor of a 
 mptley fool. There can be no penitence in your 
 case. You are contumacious incorrigible. I go 
 to tell the lord Abbot." 
 
 " Not yet, Father," cried Luke, flinging aside 
 the fear which cloaked his tongue. " I have no 
 wish to offend the Fathers of this monastery or 
 any one. I have lived and hope to die loyal to the 
 Church and to all in this monastery. Brother 
 Hilary " 
 
 There was a sudden motion from Jerome. His 
 
 hand abruptly pushed back the missal beside him. 
 
 117
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 He frowned. Was it from contempt of Luke, or 
 enmity to Hilary ? 
 
 " Brother Hilary? " he repeated, interroga- 
 tively. 
 
 " He will answer for my honesty. He knows 
 the jester I have spoken of." 
 
 " Has he sympathised with your folly, and 
 encouraged you to ask questions wherein heresy 
 has been enclosed ? " There was a sinister look 
 a snakish, sudden gleam in Jerome's eyes, which 
 however, Luke's answer banished. 
 
 " No, Father, Brother Hilary listened to me 
 with courtesy and patience, and strongly dis- 
 couraged my asking questions." 
 
 " Ha ! You had better have done as my 
 courteous and patient brother told you! " 
 
 Jerome rose and turning towards the wall where 
 a wooden crucifix hung, genuflected and crossed 
 himself while he muttered a prayer. Luke seeing 
 the monk at his act of devotion knelt too, in 
 churchman's sympathy, and said a five-words 
 prayer. When he looked up Jerome was standing 
 glaring down on him with anger-fiery eyes. 
 
 " You hypocrite! " he cried. " Hypocrite and, 
 I suspect, heretic! How dare you defame this 
 cell and these holy rites with mockery? " 
 
 " I did not mock, Father! " Luke rose, pro- 
 testing. 
 
 118
 
 John and Jerome 
 
 " Liar, as well as hypocrite and heretic! Now 
 I rejoice that I and no other must do this thing, 
 although it is a deed of bitterness. There can be 
 no hesitation now." 
 
 Luke was terrified by the monk's new 
 manner. 
 
 " Father! Father! " he pleaded, falling again 
 on his knees and raising arms in entreaty. " I 
 am no mocker, no heretic, no hypocrite ! but a 
 lonely lad who for love of God and love of Love 
 has yearned to know the truth about God and 
 love! I have never said or thought one word 
 which could cause mischief to any soul but my 
 own. I have never spoken to any one of my 
 troubles except to monks of this monastery 
 Hilary, Clement, Andrew, John; and Ulf the 
 jester, who assuredly has spoken to no one of 
 what I have said to him, for he is not the man 
 to gossip about sorrows of souls, and talks seri- 
 ously to none of the servitors. As I live I tell you 
 the truth! " 
 
 There was earnestness, sincerity, passion in 
 Luke's manner and words; but all was lost on 
 Jerome. He was a man of jaundiced mind: white 
 was yellow to his sight. 
 
 " Beware! Every word you tell which is not 
 absolute truth is an added knot to the scourge 
 
 wherewith hell-fiends will torture you." 
 
 119
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " I do not lie! You are unjust in saying I lie," 
 Luke answered angrily. 
 
 "Ha!" 
 
 " I do not lie! Neither have I spread mischief, 
 nor hurt one soul other than my own if that by 
 my questions. You speak as a persecutor! " 
 
 " You dare to say that to me a man of God ? " 
 said the angry brother. 
 
 "Are you a man of God?" Luke asked 
 straightly. He trembled with excitement, but 
 full well knew how daring was the question. He 
 was fighting with his back to the wall. A 
 desperate battle had been forced upon him. 
 
 Three or four other monks hearing the voices, 
 which through excitement had risen to an un- 
 wonted loudness, crept, curious and alarmed, 
 from their cells to see. 
 
 Jerome was livid with anger; overborne with 
 an unholy, sudden, passionate detestation of the 
 youth before him. Never before had he failed to 
 find from his well-ordered vocabulary the exact 
 word he needed; but in his present agitation he 
 stumbled in his speech. 
 
 Impulsively, he took the crucifix attached to 
 the rosary swinging by his knee and put it close to 
 Luke's eyes. His lips muttered incoherently, his 
 eyes more eloquently spoke curses. Then with an 
 effort he gained coherence of speech. 
 
 120
 
 John and Jerome 
 
 " In His name, I say unto thee come out! " 
 
 " Father, this is foolishness! " cried Luke in an 
 agony of horror. 
 
 The monks without the cell hearing what was 
 happening, came further forward and stood, like 
 frightened sheep, by the door: some crossed 
 themselves; all stared stupidly, all were troubled 
 and startled. Jerome, hearing their breathing and 
 shuffling, turned and said: 
 
 " Brethren, here is one possessed of devils," and 
 again lifting the crucifix, he addressed the sup- 
 posed fiends: " In His Name, I say unto thee 
 come out ! " 
 
 Then could be heard the noise of many approach- 
 ing sandals. 
 
 " The Abbot ! " said one by the door. 
 
 A hush fell on the group by Jerome's cell. 
 
 121
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ALTERNATIVES 
 
 THE Abbot of St. Dunstan's monastery was like 
 a silver picture ; a handsomer man was not to be 
 found in Argovie. He was tall and stately. His 
 thin, clever face, crowned with a ring of silver hair, 
 had the pink bloom and freshness of youth. His 
 eyes were blue as the summer sea; and, to carry 
 the figure further, as the ocean alters its expres- 
 sion in compliance with the mood of wind and sky, 
 so as his mood happened to be fierce or mild 
 did the expression of the Abbot's eyes change. 
 Generally kind and tender, they could, when his 
 mind called for it, hold a hardness, hard as a rock, 
 and cold, as the coldness of ice. 
 
 The Abbot was a power to love and honour, or 
 dread; and Luke knew it. They were frozen, 
 unbeautiful eyes that judged the swineherd when 
 the Abbot came to the door of Jerome's cell. 
 
 " I want no brawling here," he said to Luke. 
 " You will do as the reverend Father bids you, or 
 go ! To-night, at home, get to your knees, pray 
 
 122
 
 Alternatives 
 
 till dawn, asking God to soften your stubborn 
 heart, and put humility into your proud poor 
 mind." 
 
 He passed along, the monks following singly, 
 each with head bent and hands with fingers 
 touching. Only Hilary, as he went by, gave 
 Luke one little affectionate glance. 
 
 Jerome and the swineherd were alone again. 
 Luke braced himself for a losing encounter. 
 
 " You heard what the Abbot said," the monk 
 remarked, " to-night, and before mass to-morrow, 
 you do as I bid, or pay the penalty banishment 
 from the monastery. Do you know what that 
 means? It means absolute friendlessness, loneli- 
 ness, foodlessness. Your only helpers can be the 
 worthless and the cruel. And will they preserve 
 you? Neither God whom you have denied, nor 
 godly man will help you." 
 
 " Father, I have never denied God." 
 
 " The foul fiend himself could not be more 
 contumacious than you. What are your questions 
 but a continuous denial of God ? " 
 
 " Never! I have faith and know God exists. I 
 only ask why He allows some cruelties to happen, 
 and unpunished injustice to continue to exist. I 
 do not deny God. That is a mistake." 
 
 " That is, and you made it. What the Church 
 
 teaches you doubt and question." 
 123
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " I only ask for an explanation. I only ask for 
 the truth." 
 
 " What is perpetual questioning but a perpetual 
 denial of the claim of the Church to be the authori- 
 tative voice of God? What the Church teaches, 
 you question." 
 
 " This is a misunderstanding. May I, in my 
 turn, explain ? " 
 
 " No. The time for that is past. Instead, you 
 can prove your faith. I will try you a better way." 
 
 Their argument had been direct, outright. 
 Both in the straightforward colloquy had put 
 aside any appearance or affectation of superiority 
 and subordination. Each regarded the other as 
 an antagonist. Luke knew his was one without 
 mercy. Whatever was waiting for him was 
 assuredly a thing of bitterness. That was the 
 only certainty he could have before the moment 
 of revealing. 
 
 Jerome went from the cell for a few minutes. 
 Luke stood there waiting, his attention astrain, 
 his heart seeming still through the tension. He 
 heard the patter of the monk's footsteps going and 
 coming through the corridor which led to the 
 chapel. 
 
 When Jerome returned, he brought an oblong 
 box, some fifteen inches long, made of dark wood 
 
 inlaid with gold, the lid thickly encrusted with the 
 124
 
 Alternatives 
 
 commoner jewels. He placed it reverently on the 
 table and then knelt in adoration before it, saying 
 prayers silently. 
 
 When he arose he half-turned to Luke, who was 
 astounded by the improved change in the monk's 
 countenance. The sneer had gone, the suspicious 
 watchfulness of the eyes had disappeared. A 
 strange nobility shone in his expression, his face 
 was alight with exultation and ecstasy. In his 
 spiritual fervour the monk had put on new 
 majesty. 
 
 " My son," he said, as with reverent fingers he 
 gently touched the lid of the box. " In the hope 
 of saving your soul from the eternal perdition 
 which must be its doom if you persist in rejecting 
 the authority of the Church, I have brought the 
 holy relics enshrined here, and have prayed that 
 through their sanctity and the sacred virtue 
 contained in them, you may yet be redeemed 
 and become humbly obedient. Kneel." 
 
 Luke advanced and knelt at a place which the 
 monk with left hand indicated. There he would 
 be just within reach of the shrine. 
 
 " Within this box," whispered the monk 
 solemnly, " are part of the skull, hand, and three 
 bones of the ever-blessed martyr after whom our 
 Abbot takes his religious name. Their truth has 
 been testified by tradition and special revelations 
 
 "5
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 made to holy men. Their efficacy has been 
 proved oftentimes. Miracles have been wrought 
 by the sight of them. It is asserted I, for one, 
 fully believe it that a dead girl has been restored 
 to life through their touch. But it is not of the 
 relics that I wish to speak; but of you, Luke. 
 Your soul and the soul of every one connected 
 with the monastery is more precious to the 
 Church than the body of any man. Not willingly 
 would we let you go into the darkness. Every one 
 of the brethren would give days and nights of 
 fasting and prayer to save your soul from perdi- 
 tion. But its salvation in the circumstances 
 rests only with you. You, who have grown up in 
 the shadow of this holy house, are the questioner : 
 you, who have never yet lived a day without 
 hearing the hours chime from this monastery-bell 
 have not faith in what we, the servitors and voices 
 of the Church, teach; and through your question- 
 ing, your doubt, your infidelity, mischief has been 
 wrought among the hinds. To stop their ignorant 
 disloyalty, an example must be made of you." 
 
 He paused, Luke covered his eyes with his 
 hands to gather his mazed senses. 
 
 " To-morrow morning before Mass, in the 
 presence of all the monastery monks and laity 
 you will come to the outer door of the chapel, 
 
 before which ashes will be strewed. You will then 
 126
 
 Alternatives 
 
 on your knees, as a sign of the humblest abase- 
 ment and lowliest penitence, mark in the ashes 
 and kiss the sign of a cross. That done, you, 
 following the procession of reverend Fathers, and 
 preceding the lay helpers of this community, will 
 enter the chapel and kneel beneath the steps of 
 the chancel. There you will be robed in sackcloth 
 and have dust and ashes poured upon your head. 
 Then turning to the people they need a lesson 
 too, so your abasement must be public you will 
 loudly declare that you have sinned exceedingly 
 in your wanton questioning, and will loudly 
 promise henceforth to accept without doubt or 
 question the truths and mysteries of the Church 
 as she authoritatively teaches them." 
 
 The monk looked down on the kneeling figure 
 of Luke. There was, for the moment, sorrow and 
 pity unusual companions there in his eyes. 
 
 " That humiliation, not a heavy one in the light 
 of your offence, must be endured ; or you are made 
 excommunicate not only from this monastery, but 
 from all churches and monastic houses in Argovie, 
 so far as our summons may reach. Now, Luke, 
 test your faith in the privacy of this cell; I call 
 you, in this hour and place of sanctity, to come to 
 obedience. Here," turning to the shrine, he genu- 
 flected slowly " here are the sacred relics of a 
 
 holy saint. They are instinct with virtue. No 
 
 127
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 one having true faith can touch them and pray 
 for his soul's welfare without that welfare being 
 wrought. Luke, urgently I counsel you, stretch 
 out your hand, touch the shrine and say, ' By 
 these holy relics, I believe what the Church 
 through its priests teaches.' " 
 
 " Father, spare me! " cried Luke appealingly. 
 
 " My son, obey ! In the presence of these relics 
 to hesitate is to sin." 
 
 " Father, I am being pushed to a final decision 
 when I only ask most humbly to be helped to 
 understand." 
 
 " Had you willed to know, my son, you might 
 have known all that the Church teaches. Has not 
 my brother Hilary spoken; did not Clement 
 speak with you? " 
 
 " Yes, Father; but they have not answered my 
 humble questions. Do not push me too far now. 
 Help me, Father: as they did not help me. When 
 there was a difficulty they said: ' You must be- 
 lieve what the Church teaches.' ' 
 
 " So you must, Luke, so you must ! " 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Why? With these relics before you, do 
 you dare to question? Oh, 'tis rank rebellion! 
 heresy! " 
 
 " No, Father. I am no rebel or heretic. Is it 
 
 heresy to ask? " 
 
 128
 
 Alternatives 
 
 " To ask unorthodox questions questions 
 which are intended to strike at the very founda- 
 tions of the Church and true religion is, indeed, 
 rank heresy." 
 
 " But that, Father, I do not. I see pain, 
 suffering, and death innocence slaughtered : and 
 in real humility, ask, ' Why God allows this ? ' 
 Yet of answer, I get none." 
 
 " You do get an answer, and a sufficient one. 
 We say, have faith ! God is a God of Love. We 
 earth-men can only see earth-things with eyes of 
 flesh, the unseen with eyes of faith." 
 
 " But how are we to avoid having faith in false 
 things also? " 
 
 " Because the Church is the guide, the divinely- 
 appointed infallible guide. But I argue no more 
 with you." Jerome's sublimer mood vanished in 
 a flash of anger. His old self, narrow and bigoted, 
 reappeared. He spoke dictatorially. " Put your 
 hand on this shrine. Make the affirmation the 
 act of faith take the vow which I demand; 01 
 you pay one of the penalties I have spoken of 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Luke sprang to his feet determined. 
 
 " Honestly and with sorrow, Father, I cannot. 
 I cannot believe blindly. I want the truth." 
 
 " Then you shall suffer, "the monk cried angrily. 
 
 ' You are defaming these holy relics " 
 
 129 E
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " Tell me this, Father, how do you know these 
 dead bones are holy have virtue? " Luke's 
 eyes blazed. He was as fierce as the monk now. 
 " May you not be mistaken in them ? Is monkish 
 tradition, as well as the Church, infallibly true? " 
 
 "You blasphemous dog! Irreligious hound! 
 Ungrateful you are, and shall be accursed! " cried 
 the monk, raising a trembling finger to the ceil- 
 ing while he denounced the rebel. " You will 
 know friendlessness, cold, and want, and will 
 starve! " 
 
 " I would rather starve! " Luke declared. 
 
 "You will die!" 
 
 " I would rather die! " 
 
 "And then hell! " 
 
 " I would rather even that, than say I believe 
 what I cannot understand. To do that is to lie! 
 Oh, Father " again, on remembering that ex- 
 communication meant banishment from the only 
 home he had ever known, and the final loss of life- 
 long friends, his voice broke, he made the old 
 appeal, " Won't you help me to understand? " 
 
 " No, you are lost! To-morrow you go; and 
 the monastery will have riddance of its first and 
 only heretic! " 
 
 Jerome turned to the shrine, raised it, his hands 
 still atremble with anger, and walked hurriedly 
 
 out of the cell. Luke followed : and so out of the 
 130
 
 Alternatives 
 
 monastery to the home which would be his a 
 little longer. 
 
 Mause, the grey-haired mother, was waiting 
 anxiously for him. 
 
 " What is it ? " she asked. " Why did the 
 Father want you ? " 
 
 Simply, and with gentleness, he told her. The 
 old woman was stricken with fear. 
 
 " They will turn us out of this dear home ! " she 
 said, looking round at the poor habitation where 
 she had lived since Kelp had wedded her. 
 
 " They will not turn you out, mother! " Luke 
 answered her, though, remembering Jerome's 
 anger, he was on the sudden not so sure of it 
 himself. 
 
 "What else can they do?" she persisted. 
 " They must have a new swineherd if you go I 
 cannot tend the pigs; and where else could he 
 live? Oh, Luke, my better than son, love one 
 who has been better than your mother to you." 
 
 Luke's determination was very weak at that 
 moment. His throat seemed choked with un- 
 happiness, his eyesight dimmed. Raising the old 
 woman, he embraced her lovingly, kissing her 
 forehead, cheek, lips. 
 
 " Love you, mother? You have been an angel 
 to me. If you needed my life, mother, I would 
 give it."
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " Then for my sake," she pleaded, " do as the 
 monks wish." 
 
 "That is a harder ordeal than death!" he 
 answered gently. " It would be to lie, in a way 
 that would shame my soul for ever." 
 
 Mause withdrew from his arms and sat crouched 
 on a stool, staring at the smouldering embers. 
 Her world was tottering about her. Luke, seeing 
 her misery, went to her, kneeled by her side. 
 
 " You shall not need a home, mother," he 
 promised, " even though the brethren should take 
 this poor hovel for the new swineherd. I know 
 good folk who will shield and shelter you. I will 
 go to them now." 
 
 " Who can they be ? There is no one to shelter 
 me! For more than forty years I have lived in 
 this little home. It is full of dreams and memo- 
 ries. Kelp died here. My Luke, cannot you be 
 faithful as he was ? I shall not live much longer. 
 Let me stay here till I am dead ! " 
 
 Luke's heart and mind went through tumults of 
 torture. The battle with Jerome was infinitely 
 easier to endure than the simple appeals of her 
 who had saved and been more than a mother to 
 him. 
 
 For a time he could not trust himself to speak. 
 Then he ventured to ask: " Would you have me 
 
 publicly, at the altar-steps, pronounce a lie? " 
 
 132
 
 Alternatives 
 
 " No, dear, but it is not a lie. It is only to 
 obey. The monks must know better than you." 
 
 " I asked them for help, and they have not 
 helped." 
 
 " Think how good they have been they have 
 fed, housed, and clothed us all these years." 
 
 " And we have laboured for them, mother. It 
 is not a question of kindness, but a question of 
 truth." 
 
 " A question of life," Mause said despondently. 
 " If you are grateful to me for the love I have 
 given you, do as I wish, let me live here the few 
 remaining years. This is the place I love beyond 
 all others." 
 
 Luke was silent. He was facing his difficult 
 alternative. He must either hurt the noble 
 woman who had lived for and loved him, or on 
 the morrow publicly proclaim a false repentance. 
 Which alternative should it be ? 
 
 He knew that the second was the impossible 
 one. 
 
 He could no longer trust himself with speech, 
 as he heard Mause quietly weeping. His heart 
 melted, he sprang forward and knelt by her side: 
 kissing, loving, adoring her, and she clung to him. 
 Then he rose, rushed from the dwelling and ran, as 
 fast as feet could speed him, to Yorg's cottage, 
 where Lilith had died.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 EXPELLED 
 
 LUKE arrived, breathless, at the cottage and 
 knocked lightly, but there was no answer. It was 
 a household of sleep. 
 
 He turned from the door contentedly to wait 
 till morning. 
 
 Before him stretched the dark lake. High 
 above, over the south-western horizon, was the 
 white crescent moon, directly under which, hang- 
 ing by invisible threads, a seeming pendant, shone 
 with more than lunar brightness the majestical 
 planet of love. Stars lived in the velvet depths. 
 
 From his earliest days Luke had been strangely 
 impressed by the lights of the evening sky. To 
 no other mortal did their mystic splendours bring 
 more mysterious or ennobling happiness. As he 
 stood there with the sleeping cottage behind him, 
 the leafy branches rustling above him, the large, 
 vague lake stretched beneath him, laving with 
 tiny ripples the reflected stars, he was filled with 
 the awe, wonder, worship of existence. 
 
 He went to a hillock, cold and wet with dew,
 
 Expelled 
 
 and sat there, lost in a wakeful trance. He forgot 
 trouble. Gradually he was aware of being no 
 longer alone. The spirit-world drew about him 
 and he knew it. Souls spoke to his soul. His 
 being was swathed in the comfort of spiritual 
 content. Once more, though changed they were, 
 more vivid and more true, the dreams of careless 
 childhood came to him. Enrapt, he drifted into 
 vision. 
 
 It seemed as he sat there, lost to time and all 
 else of earth, that, one after another, in gradual 
 rapid succession, veils were lifted from his eyes. 
 The lights in the heavens seemed gradually nearer, 
 larger, brighter, clearer. With their progress in 
 majesty, harmonies grew, from a whisper the 
 sighing of the wind through leafy branches to an 
 anthem, such as angels might sing. Surely, as the 
 veils were lifted from his vision and the stars of the 
 sky increased in magnitude and splendour, they 
 took shape those fixed stars were as beings of 
 light flying towards him with moving wings ; the 
 great planet shining beneath the moon was as an 
 archangel helmed and armoured in dazzling 
 silver: and the crescent moon was a throne, whose 
 occupant Luke could not see, for as, in his awe 
 and joy and gratitude, he gazed upon it, his 
 eyes as if they were Godward-gazing became 
 dimmed.
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 The holy majesty of his vision humbled him. 
 He leaned forward, face in hands, praying. But 
 all the while could hear the mystic anthem, which 
 slowly developed into a mighty song, universal; 
 and then, sweetly, slowly hushing, changed into 
 this name, clearly and repeatedly chanted by 
 celestial voices : 
 
 "Peruel! Peruel! Peruel! " 
 
 Luke's heart was chilled with wonder. He 
 puzzled at the mystery. 
 
 "Peruel! Peruel!" 
 
 What was the import of that name to him ? 
 
 Slowly the call faded away; and the music 
 relapsed into the breathing of winds through the 
 branches of leafy trees. 
 
 He looked at the sky again. The veils had fallen. 
 The light of the moon and stars was phantasmal, 
 vanishing. Dawn stretched its stately wings over 
 the east. The lake donned its morning garb of 
 grey. The day of excommunication was come. 
 
 He was roused from vision-land by the creaking 
 of the cottage-door opening. 
 
 " Heh, Luke! " was the fisherman's greeting. 
 
 The swineherd's determination to assure shelter 
 for Mause was not impaired by his night of dream 
 and vigil. He overwhelmed the fisherman, and 
 assailed the wife, with appeals and reasons, until 
 
 they poor souls! with the unfailing, practical 
 
 136
 
 Expelled 
 
 unselfishness of the poor, consented, if Mause were 
 evicted, to succour her. So Luke found the one 
 great obstacle to his moral freedom removed. It 
 could not be necessary now to purchase liberty of 
 mind by sacrificing her who had loved him most 
 helpfully and well. 
 
 He returned to the ordeal at the monastery. 
 He tended the swine for the last time, feeling very 
 sad during the doing of that duty. 
 
 He had finished the necessary labour, and was 
 lingering at the door of the sty, when Hilary 
 approached, grave and grey. 
 
 " I suppose you cannot do as we wish? " he 
 asked, his accents gentle and sad. 
 
 " No, Father! " Luke answered as quietly. 
 
 " I am sorry. I have loved you, Luke." 
 
 Luke hung his head with anguish of heart, not 
 shame. 
 
 " You have been very good to me, Father," was 
 all that, faltering, he could say. 
 
 Hilary put his hands on the lad's shoulders. 
 " My son," he said, as he looked at him straightly, 
 " what I expected has happened. I feared this 
 catastrophe the moment the jester began his flip- 
 pant questions. The pity oh, the pity of it! 
 that you could not have lived and died in the 
 ignorance that is happiness. Most men every 
 man, but one or two, the crazed or brave excep- 
 
 I 3 7 E2
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 tions would have done so; but from the first 
 you were different one of the exceptions. You 
 had thoughts and fancies which no other child 
 whom I have met has known. There must have 
 been many strange angels about you, despite the 
 pigs, when you were born. That Ulf, that rascal 
 Ulf , put his spark to ready tinder. I would gladly 
 give him a world of pains for this: but what is, 
 must be. I have loved you, lad Luke. Will 
 you grant me one request a request you can 
 grant ? " 
 
 " Gladly, Father." 
 
 " It is this. Come with me to the monastery, 
 and bear what you must bear modestly and 
 bravely. Whatever you are asked to do, do 
 simply; or if you must refuse, refuse quietly. 
 No good, and great evil, may be wrought by 
 scandal and a riotous example. You will act so 
 for my sake? " 
 
 " Yes, Father. I will act so." 
 
 " May the God who loves good men and sinners, 
 despite their many sins, bless you, Luke. In all 
 the sorrows and sufferings to come, be true man ! 
 I can speak of you, as I have fought for you 
 yonder, as no other of the brethren can; for was 
 it not I who, when you were an infant, tried to 
 teach you ? Ah, Luke, you brought to this earth 
 a mind and wisdom which were not formed of the 
 138
 
 Expelled 
 
 clay ideals of this earth. But it has been a 
 wisdom ruinous for you. Farewell! You must 
 not return to the monastery unless you come 
 penitent so, this is our last farewell. God help 
 you, my son! May His angels watch over and 
 guard you ! Farewell ! I may meet your soul in 
 the hereafter. I shall not see your body again. 
 Here is a little money, you will need it. Fare 
 you well! " 
 
 " Good-bye, dear Father. I will try and be 
 true man for your sake. I love the monastery, 
 and and you ? Will you if I cannot do so let 
 Mause know that there is a home for her in the 
 house of Yorg, the fisherman ? " 
 
 " That will not be necessary, Luke: her present 
 home shall be preserved for her, I will ensure 
 that." 
 
 '.' That is one more of your kindnesses, Father." 
 
 " Let us go now together, it is time," said 
 Hilary. 
 
 They went together in silence. Luke was 
 approaching his great ordeal fasting, but his young 
 body and an enthusiasm for the cause he was 
 fighting rendered him impervious to the effects 
 of hunger then. He was, moreover, strangely 
 strengthened by the glorious and unreadable 
 vision of the night. Yet, human weakness was 
 not subdued he shrunk from the burden before
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 him. He knew he was no martyr, had certainly 
 none of the martyr's exaltation ! 
 
 When they arrived at the outer entrance to the 
 chapel, the hinds and herders of the monastery 
 were already gathered, a glum, unsympathetic 
 group, beside the door. The only one then absent 
 was Mause, and she came shortly afterwards. 
 
 Hilary entered the monastery, going to where 
 the monks assembled for their procession. On 
 the grey stone, beneath the carven chapel-door, 
 was a pile of ashes. Luke's fellows, the sub- 
 ordinates, looked at the ashes as if they hid devils 
 asleep. Luke having noted them in a passing 
 glance, which gathered in all the details of that 
 bitter moment, did not look again. 
 
 The lay-servants drew together like a flock 
 of foolish sheep when the monks could be heard 
 approaching; then in full unity of gaze they 
 stared at Luke, curious to see how he would 
 bear the ordeal. 
 
 Faithful to Hilary's request he remained un- 
 assertive; head bent, hand on girdle; a brown 
 figure in the green loneliness, silent, and not 
 rebellious. Pigeons flew down and strutted 
 around him. Birds chirped loudly with shrill, 
 inconsiderate voices. Doves sobbed as they 
 perched on the chapel roof. 
 
 The monks, passing two and two along by the 
 140
 
 Expelled 
 
 ivy-stained wall, grouped in a semicircle about 
 the ashes. Not one glanced at Luke. All stood 
 with bended heads and folded hands, until the 
 Abbot his mitre shining silvery in the sun was 
 on the step beside them. 
 
 " Luke, swineherd ! " he called. 
 
 Luke approached the Abbot and knelt on one 
 knee. He felt that every eye in that grey-green 
 space was upon him. 
 
 " Luke, swineherd ! I believe though I pray 
 it is not so I fear that even yet obstinacy 
 governs you, that your eyes and ears are blind 
 and deaf to the counsel and entreaties of my 
 brothers. For the last time, I ask you: Are you 
 penitent? Will you be obedient? " 
 
 Luke, knowing that no monosyllable could have 
 conveyed a true or an acceptable answer, was 
 silent. 
 
 "Speak, Luke!" 
 
 The appeal of an aged woman rang pitifully 
 out. It was Mause. She broke away from the 
 hands which would have held her, and advanced 
 with arms outstretched towards her foster-son. 
 
 Shadows of sorrow crossed his face. He rose 
 and, turning, softly said to her: " Have peace! 
 Be at peace, dear mother! " 
 
 The simple words touched her, and broke her 
 
 heart. 
 
 141
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 "Peace?" she asked. "Luke, Luke " her 
 voice quavered: she hid her face in her gnarled, 
 worn hands " was it for this I mothered you? " 
 
 Then Hilary did the kindly deed. He walked 
 from his place among the monks and placing his 
 hand quietly on Mause's shoulder, whispered 
 while he led her away. His words seemed to 
 comfort her; but before she was back among her 
 fellows she turned sharply and said to Luke: 
 
 " I will never set eyes on you again." That 
 was the manner of Mause's farewell to her babe. 
 A sob of sorrow or contempt broke from the brown 
 group of subordinates. 
 
 " If you refuse the offer we make you," went on 
 the Abbot, " you are accursed! Neither God nor 
 godly man will greet or help you. Your ways 
 will be through loneliness and hunger to despair. 
 Even now, at this twelfth hour, Luke, swineherd, 
 I call to you to break your hardened heart, to have 
 contrition of spirit, to come to these ashes and 
 make the penance required." 
 
 " I cannot, Father! " Luke answered. 
 
 " You cannot ? " the Abbot repeated. " You 
 persist in denying the Church " 
 
 "No, Father. Never that! Never that! I 
 ask for the truth that is all! " 
 
 " That is all! There can be no arguing now. 
 
 I give you no more opportunities. Your last 
 142
 
 Expelled 
 
 answer has brought you doom. You are dis- 
 missed from this monastery. Not bit, nor sup, 
 can you have here, nor may you enter these gates 
 again until you come humbly penitent, humbly 
 obedient, prepared to do the full penance which 
 you now refuse." 
 
 "Excommunicate him curse him, Father!" 
 was one woman's hysterical appeal. Her voice 
 in that hour of heavy anger, sent a thrill a stab 
 through Luke's heart. It was so like the voice 
 of Mause. That moment was the nadir of his 
 life's bitterness. 
 
 " Bell, book, candle ! " loudly grumbled one of 
 the hinds. 
 
 "He's mad! mad as moonbeams!" cried 
 another. The many agreed with that judg- 
 ment. 
 
 The spoken unfriendliness of the words whipped 
 Luke from sorrow to anger. But his promise to 
 Hilary kept him silent. He cast a glance at the 
 face of the pitying priest, and the retort which 
 had trembled on his lips was unspoken. 
 
 Slowly the monks entered the chapel. None 
 of them not even Hilary gave a parting look 
 at the scapegoat. John was the last but one to 
 pass through the doorway. He shuffled in, 
 breathing heavily. The Abbot completed the 
 procession of the tonsured. He paused to bend
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 one stern hard look at Luke. In his eyes was 
 malediction. Such was his farewell. 
 
 The lay servants followed immediately after, in 
 customary quiet disorder. Every one of them, 
 man and woman, from age to infancy, turned to 
 look at their expelled companion. Mause was not 
 among them. That ordeal of glances seared 
 Luke's heart. He realized then how little love 
 there is in humankind for humankind. 
 
 The janitor shut the chapel door. 
 
 The outcast was alone. The time of banish- 
 ment had come. He stood there numbed. 
 Presently he heard music and chanting in the 
 chapel. That melted him. A prayer, more 
 earnest than ever he had prayed before, rose 
 from his heart. He pleaded for forgiveness. He 
 pleaded for strength. 
 
 Meanwhile the birds chirped and chattered.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 A FOOL AND HIS MONEY 
 
 As Luke entered upon exile, he could hear the 
 voices in the chapel chanting an old familiar 
 anthem, so, in the sheer joy of ended battle, he 
 joined in the singing. He was barred from con- 
 secrated buildings, but could not by any man or 
 all men be deprived of the fact of spiritual com- 
 munion. The whole world, the universe, from 
 grass to stars, was consecrated to God's glory, 
 through the touch of the Hands of its Maker! 
 That was a church for him to worship in. Man 
 with all his skill in bricks and ephemeral prettiness, 
 could only feebly and faintly imitate that ! 
 
 Prayer, too! Could not he pray quite well 
 and effectually in the forest solitudes ? Is the love 
 of God less to be found among flowers and trees 
 than within an atmosphere of incense? As for 
 singing, there is music sufficient and praise enough 
 in the open world? From the skylark scaling 
 the blue heavens, to the cricket chirping in the 
 grasses, there are infinite sounds of laud and 
 happiness, melodies and songs. The wind in the 
 
 MS
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 trees, the splash of moving waters, the rumble of 
 the distant storm, are sounds as truly interpreting 
 the moods of the heart of man as the trained 
 voices of priests and choristers intoning. 
 
 Thus Luke, striding into freedom, in the begin- 
 ning of his quest for truth, communed with him- 
 self. They may close the chapel doors, he 
 thought; they cannot, shall not, shut me from 
 God! 
 
 He was soon out of the demesnes of the monas- 
 tery, breasting hopefully through the wood. He 
 intended to go first to Earl Rudolph's castle to 
 find Ulf, and there complete the hope of many 
 dreams and days by again seeing Alys. He felt 
 wonderfully happy at being liberated from the 
 old restraints. 
 
 Never, certainly, had Nature seemed more full 
 of gladness than during that morning of freedom. 
 The sun shone brightly from a perfect sky. Trees 
 and grass were gloriously green. Scented wild- 
 flowers peeped here and swayed there in many- 
 coloured radiance. A breeze blowing gently 
 soothed his brow, quickened his nerves, braced 
 his body and mind to proud effort. He felt truly 
 a strong man. The unknown future was framed 
 in shining hope. His aspirations were exalted. 
 Come weal, come woe, he would do duty! And 
 
 if he failed but he would not fail. 
 146
 
 A Fool and His Money 
 
 He was soon hungered, having fasted for many 
 hours, having also spent a wakeful night and 
 endured an exhausting experience. He felt in 
 his pouch. There was no food; but his fingers 
 touched the few poor coins Hilary had given him. 
 For the first time in his life Luke was a moneyed 
 man! He took out the four pieces and, smiling, 
 tossed them in his palm. Here was the means to 
 buy! The simple fact the new experience of 
 possessing money, his own, changed still more the 
 vista of things. He was going out of the old life 
 into an entirely new one. He was impatient to 
 learn more of what the new world was like. 
 
 He saw before him a green lane, a larger path 
 in the wood, leading to he knew not where. 
 Quickened with the desire to explore, also in- 
 directly turned away by shyness of Earl Rudolph's 
 place and retainers; anxious, moreover, to see a 
 little more of the wonderful world about whose 
 mysteries he had so frequently made guesses and 
 dreamed, he hastened to the bend beyond; that 
 reached, new pathways, haunted with happy possi- 
 bilities, lured him on. 
 
 Red squirrels scampered along branches, a hare 
 foolishly exposed itself to stare at him, rabbits 
 scurried across the road, birds fed here and flew 
 there, singing, chattering everywhere. That way 
 proved curiously fascinating.
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 He would find the castle of Rudolph later. He 
 must see more of Nature first. The moneyed 
 explorer in Luke overcame the lover. At that 
 early period in his journey Alys was unconsciously 
 relegated to the golden future. 
 
 He went through the lane, passed turnings and 
 bye-ways innumerable, seeing a thousand old 
 sights which to his entranced and liberated senses 
 seemed new, until the path descended a broken 
 hill and he came to a dusty road. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, owing to his life having 
 been so shut in, he had never hitherto seen such a 
 road as this, which stretched north and south- 
 wards till its extremities were lost in green dis- 
 tance. Its surface was rutted and choked with 
 faded garbage and white dust: it was really no 
 noble thoroughfare yet it lured him on. 
 
 Curiosity increased as every minute with its 
 revelation of simple wonders went past. He must 
 see more, more, still more. 
 
 So it went on, from hour to hour, through a long 
 day. 
 
 He quenched his thirst at a spring; the water 
 only served to stimulate his healthy hunger. He 
 would find a house and purchase bread. 
 
 He found himself suddenly curiously shy. In 
 the monastery, sight of or speech with strangers 
 
 had not affected him. Now, in the unaccus- 
 148
 
 A Fool and His Money 
 
 tomed new world, he was timid about unseen 
 people. 
 
 He came to a poor cottage standing back under 
 trees. Flowers climbed over the portal and hung 
 in shadowy festoons about the wall. 
 
 A kind-faced woman was spinning by the door- 
 way. Luke was won by her mien to appeal to 
 her; but even then he hesitated to address her. 
 She, seeing him travel-stained and weary, put into 
 better speech the wish he faltered to make, and 
 invited him to rest and eat. In the innocence of 
 ignorance he offered a coin, but she smiled refusal; 
 and brought a bowl of bubbling milk, with honey 
 and wheaten bread. 
 
 Her sweet Samaritan manner her alert, con- 
 siderate kindness captivated him. He went on 
 his way invigorated and refreshed ; yet feeling sad 
 at parting from a friend whom it was a kind of 
 religion to meet. 
 
 He walked for an hour thereafter, passing many 
 country folk on the road, with most of whom he 
 exchanged good-day. In that passage of saluta- 
 tion he had no shyness; yet was he timid about 
 asking favours unless he could buy them. 
 
 He had still his four coins. 
 
 Presently a beggar came stumping along, 
 crutches under his arm-pits. A loathly, unkempt, 
 
 filthy rascal he, exhibiting his sores, advertising 
 
 149
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 his blatant beastliness consequences of unclean- 
 ness to filch kindness from the foolish-charitable. 
 Luke, in his innocence, was afraid of the man. 
 He wished, because of the beggar's unpleasantness 
 of person, to pass him by ; but the rascal, whining, 
 told his oft-told tale. Luke fell a victim, and 
 gave a coin. The recipient grunted ungratefully 
 when he had it, spat on it for luck, pouched it 
 surlily: then resumed his stumping pilgrimage. 
 He knew the short way to an inn. 
 
 Luke felt he ought to be enjoying the happiness 
 which is philanthropy's reward, but somehow the 
 gratitude of the beggar had not seemed over-great ; 
 and Charity does like to hear the thank you. 
 
 Day closed, there was dampness in the air. 
 Birds on many branches trilled and throbbed. 
 The insect travellers of eventide came from their 
 secret bournes to drift in the air around. The 
 sky became clouded as the light faded. Darkness, 
 throned in solemnities, grew. 
 
 Luke shivered. The air was chill: he was 
 hungry again. He must find food and a sleeping- 
 place ; but inexperience made him shy and 
 diffident about entering an inn. He deter- 
 mined to find a sheltered bed in the undergrowth 
 or on the leeside of a lonely barn, if in that 
 unpopulous part of existence such were to be 
 found.
 
 A Fool and His Money 
 
 He strode swiftly along the road. There 
 seemed, at this stage of the journey, no break 
 in the walls of thicket and trees which flanked 
 the thoroughfare. 
 
 Stars came breaking through the blueness one 
 by one. 
 
 Their coming reminded him of the last night's 
 vision, the glorious and inspiring details of which 
 were still vivid in his mind. What was the 
 name wherewith he was called ? He puzzled and 
 puzzled, but could not remember how the voices 
 had named him. His mind was troubled by the 
 all-but-remembrance. 
 
 The stars had always been to him lights of in- 
 spiration. Now again their constancy and exalt- 
 ing beauty helped him. He raised arms skywards 
 and vowed to be steadfast to his ideals, just as they 
 in their places were constant and true. They 
 helped him with hopefulness. 
 
 The twilight monotony of trees was at last dis- 
 pelled by clusters of houses beside a green with an 
 old church at its centre. 
 
 Few of the habitations showed lights. Early 
 though it was, most of the villagers were abed: 
 but some were visible, sprawling, drowsing, or 
 standing gossiping by doorways. 
 
 As Luke passed them he looked with quiet 
 judgment at the good folk. They were solid,
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 stolid, sober people; prosperous in the rural way, 
 unburdened with imagination, true as wrought 
 iron to the customs and notions their hard-working 
 forbears had, through untold generations, handed 
 down. They were harmless, or no more harmful 
 than other uninspired, unsympathetic people. Luke 
 was not impressed. He passed on, without ad- 
 dressing one of them. Their dulness and evident 
 want of sympathy repelled him. He passed by 
 all, but hunger pleading powerfully against his 
 pride, he turned and approaching the nearest 
 villager, a woman of numerous family, offered 
 a coin, and asked for bread. She looked shrewdly 
 at him twinkles of cheap cunning were in her 
 eyes and took the coin. Then going into the 
 house she returned with a mean, stale crust of 
 coarse bread. 
 
 Luke thought he would have received more: 
 but he was ignorant as a Noachian of the values 
 of money, innocent as Ariel of the ways of the 
 world. He took the crust with a word of thanks, 
 and resumed his journey to find lodgment. Pride 
 kept him from munching till he was out of the 
 village. 
 
 He had hardly began work on the crust 
 
 appetite overlooking deficiencies when he heard 
 
 moaning by the roadside as from one in despair. 
 
 He thrust the remnant of the bread hurriedly 
 
 152
 
 A Fool and His Money 
 
 into his pouch, and stepped from his way to 
 investigate. 
 
 Seated on the grass-bank was a ragged woman, 
 evidently worn out with travel and want. She 
 was not old, but the lines of trouble were heavy in 
 her face ; she looked sadly pinched and thin. 
 
 Luke forgot his own needs in sympathy. 
 Touched by his eager words, she told him, in- 
 coherently, her tale. It was then as it is now, as 
 it will be till man reaches a higher stage in his 
 evolution angelwards the old and common story 
 of hasty trusting and lasting loss. She had loved, 
 been foolish, passionate; and was now a human 
 derelict, deprived of her everything. While she 
 told her dismal and pitiful story she ate Luke's 
 crust. He pressed upon her one of the two 
 remaining coins. She thanked him with effusive- 
 ness.. 
 
 " This," she ended, " will buy me food and a 
 night's lodging in the neighbouring village. With- 
 out this I might have begged till I dropped! " 
 Such was a proletarian's judgment ! 
 
 Luke watched her as she walked away. He felt 
 very happy. It was something to have done that 
 little deed. But then revulsion followed. If she 
 with that coin could purchase food and shelter, 
 why had he been swindled ? 
 
 The naked, ugly dishonesty of the seller of the
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 bread appalled and discouraged him. /as that 
 the charity and kindness of the world? He felt 
 really unnerved, disheartened, by the incident. 
 That he, who would have given himself to pain if 
 doing so benefited another in need, should have 
 been treated so! 
 
 Truly, mankind numbers many queer fishes. 
 
 He was hungry. He felt in his pouch to see 
 if any crumbs remained. But no fragment of 
 bread was there. Nor was the last of Hilary's 
 gift of coins. That was gone lost, no doubt, on 
 the way. It was hopeless to attempt to recover it. 
 
 So ended Luke's first experience as a man of 
 material wealth. He had been defrauded. The 
 recollection rankled, but he clung to the memory 
 of the earlier kindness. 
 
 He strode onwards bravely under the black 
 night.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 DREAMS AND IDEALS 
 
 THE night was cold, with a keen wind. Luke 
 found a thicket sheltered in a hollow, and there lay 
 shivering on a bed of leaves. He knew to the full 
 what misery meant. 
 
 The life which he called dead, with its roughness 
 and discomforts seemed in retrospect all smooth- 
 ness in comparison with this. He crouched in the 
 damp vegetation, and ached with too much weari- 
 ness to sleep. His brain was working actively. 
 He remembered to the minutest detail the life 
 that was closed. His home had been poor, the old 
 toil, humble; but they were his own. Now he 
 had no home, was friendless : occupation was gone ! 
 
 Mause, too; he saw her face, not as it had 
 gloomed in the hour of his dismissal, but as it had 
 always been before warm with affection, sym- 
 pathy, and maternal love. Dear mother Mause! 
 As he lay there, in his misery, he remembered a 
 thousand incidents which proved her love. And 
 he had been compelled in the cause of truth and 
 conscience to abandon her. Something must be 
 very wrong with the social bases. He wondered
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 who among the hinds would be swineherd in his 
 place. In those weariful, wakeful hours he forgot 
 nothing not even the pigs. 
 
 Eventually he fell into a light sleep and dreamed 
 of Alys. He was kneeling before her. She, 
 glorious in golden robes, queened it on the old 
 throne, which young imagination had raised from 
 a bush in the homeland wood ; she beamed on him 
 with smiling eyes. Kisses lived in her looks. He 
 awoke, shivering, in his thorny bed. O, phan- 
 tasm happiness! O, real misery! 
 
 " What will you do if the Abbot sends you 
 packing? Starve! No one will help you! " 
 
 If the monk John had been standing in the star- 
 light before him then, the words could not have 
 seemed more pitiless, pat, and clear. Luke 
 started upright and stared at the darkness. He 
 almost expected to see the gross monk haranguing 
 him with stumpy forefinger upraised. 
 
 It was all fancy, or a voice in his brain his 
 brain which was working, working, while the body 
 ached for rest. Brother John's words as origin- 
 ally spoken not an inflection or syllable seemed 
 lost raced through Luke's mind, making him 
 shudder. 
 
 He rose and stretched himself, then reclined 
 again on the earth-bare couch and tried resolutely 
 to resume sleep, hoping fond fool to revisit 
 156
 
 Dreams and Ideals 
 
 Alys in dreams; but, for a weary time, sleep 
 refused its balm. 
 
 The arguments of the monks their direct 
 appeal for submission and indirect promise of 
 plenty and peace recurred to him; until, in the 
 unguard of drowsiness his less noble self argued 
 with and tried to cajole his conscience. Why 
 should he not submit, live in quiet, be out of this 
 and the coming discomfort ? His senses urgently 
 appealed to him to submit, his aching body 
 pleaded with him, memory of the various monks' 
 arguments appealed to him. 
 
 It was a subtle, strong temptation. His being 
 and its needs, the overwhelming consciousness of 
 loneliness, the vague, unpromising future, com- 
 bined to plead with a force which under normal 
 circumstances the tongue of eloquent man might 
 not have found. Luke deliberately recalled to 
 himself the old alternatives he looked with a 
 clear mind at the facts as they were, and as 
 deliberately determined that the present trouble, 
 penury, want, even though multiplied manifold, 
 were better than acquiescence in what his scrupu- 
 lous conscience held was intellectual servitude and 
 moral slavery. 
 
 But it needed vigorous efforts of remembrance 
 daring that lonely night to keep him all true to 
 his ideal. The gentle arguments of Hilary, the
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 diplomatic appeals of Clement, the less generous 
 frankness of Andrew, the cold superiority, seeming 
 indifference and disdain of the Abbot, the blunt, 
 brute logic of John, the sneers and subtlety of 
 Jerome, each challenged his mind in turn. The 
 thought-ridden youth had never before been so 
 oppressed with orthodox arguments. Yet could 
 none of it, nor all of it, beat down the simple 
 strength of the questions he had asked. In all 
 this logic and invective, there was no answer to 
 his old difficulties. 
 
 At last the mind-conflict brought its own relief. 
 Luke, out-wearied, slept, to awake at dawn 
 cramped. For a little time he listened to noisy 
 morning birds and then fell into a heavy trance- 
 like slumber. 
 
 There ensued a dream in which Alys bore no 
 part. Nor Luke, as Luke. 
 
 There was a vastness, vague, magnificent, with 
 much light. Out of the brightness came a voice, 
 saying : 
 
 " Peruel, are you penitent? " 
 
 Luke answered though he knew it was not he 
 who answered but one within him : 
 
 " I am penitent ! " 
 
 There was, it seemed, an immediate growth of 
 light. Then a second voice, from the heart of the 
 brightness asked the same question 
 158
 
 Dreams and Ideals 
 
 . " Peruel, are you penitent ? " 
 
 Again, the being hidden in Luke's self answered : 
 
 " I am penitent ! " 
 
 A second time the brightness was increased. 
 
 A third time from the soul of the light came the 
 question now in a voice beyond all wonders of 
 music and sweetness 
 
 " Peruel, Peruel, are you penitent ? " 
 
 Luke's soul answered: " I am penitent ! " 
 
 " It is well! " came a whisper the breath of a 
 far-off, tremendous utterance: " It is well." 
 
 There was deep silence; then, while the glory 
 grew, and the brightness became vivid, dazzling, a 
 fifth voice spoke, in a tone of pleading though 
 anger, also sorrow, were in the sound " Not yet ! 
 Not yet!" 
 
 All the voices that had spoken all but the 
 whisper which was as the breath of a thunderous 
 utterance, very far-off sighed in chorus: " Not 
 yet! Not yet! Not yet!" 
 
 The brightness went. The light faded. The 
 dream was done. Luke slept for a long while in 
 the prostration and abandon of absolute weari- 
 ness. When he awoke it was bright daylight. 
 Sunshine was reflected in the dew. Birds were 
 singing rapturously. A blackbird on a bough but 
 five yards from him was piping merrily. When 
 he moved it flew away scolding.
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Luke felt unaccountably happy. He sprang to 
 his feet, eager for life's struggle. Why were his 
 heart so light and his hopes so high ? Was it the 
 living joy of Nature clamorous round him, which 
 found sympathy in his breast? Perhaps! Or 
 delight in the new liberty ? He pondered, striving 
 to find a cause. No, this it was he remembered 
 he had dreamed of Alys! His being glowed and 
 trembled with love's glad consciousness. Poor 
 fool! 
 
 The second dream was all forgotten. That was 
 not for Luke the swineherd. 
 
 He began that day's pilgrimage with one 
 assured uncertainty. He had not the faintest idea 
 which direction to take for Earl Rudolph's castle. 
 In the dark of the previous evening he had 
 wandered in the wood after leaving the road, 
 groping along tortuous ways, searching for good 
 shelter; so when he found the road, on this 
 morrow, it was at an unrecognised point and new 
 angle. He knew not whether to go to the right 
 or the left. 
 
 He solved the problem in Alexandrian manner. 
 He went neither to right nor left, but, governed 
 by the spirit of rash adventure, crossed the road 
 and plunged straight into the forest before him. 
 He cared not whither his feet were carrying him. 
 
 He gave his shoes to the fairies. 
 1 60
 
 Dreams and Ideals 
 
 Hunger again forced itself into the comedy. 
 Luke could not forget hunger; he was too young, 
 strong, healthy for that ; but remembrance of the 
 olden brave ideals and innumerable thoughts 
 occasioned by such memories, dimmed for a time 
 the clamour of appetite. 
 
 The old ideals ! How, in this green paradise of 
 liberty he revelled in them! Truth, and the 
 search for truth! He was shocked to find in the 
 present freedom from restraint, how untruthful, 
 narrow in many ways, the old monastic life seemed. 
 But he brushed these thoughts away. Let the 
 dead past bury its dead. Only weakness was 
 wrought by such memories. 
 
 He must depend on himself now. He was an 
 outcast, unhouseled, his own man and no one 
 else's not even God's, the monks would say. 
 He would continue his quest for truth. 
 
 Luke came to a crystal pool, set in a circle of 
 bright-leaved trees. He was so charmed by the 
 peace and poetry of the spot that he lay for long 
 beside the water, gazing into it, watching the blue 
 reflection of the sky and the movements of the 
 insects which sported ceaselessly above the sur- 
 face. The contrast of the two reflected facts 
 the dome of sky typifying infinity, and those little 
 sparks of existence, the least of the living creatures 
 
 of a very brief day brought to him problems. 
 161 F
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 He lay there thinking and dreaming, heedless and 
 forgetful of the hours; and slowly drifted along 
 the path of mind-development which earlier he 
 had deliberately willed to travel. 
 
 God and the greater existence! Man, insects, 
 these few brief years! In this handful of words 
 is the kernel of all man's philosophy. Luke had 
 enjoyed little opportunity for book learning; but 
 necessity and Nature were his adequate teachers 
 now, and he learnt well. He read what the 
 bookful blockhead misses the bare insistent 
 facts of life. 
 
 Morning lapsed to noon: the sun was descend- 
 ing the hill of day before he left the deep waters 
 and returned to the workaday world. 
 
 The rest and thought were good to him. He 
 had got beneath the excrescences, and near to the 
 root of things when he continued his way; he was 
 older and more confident than he had been the 
 very few hours before. 
 
 He resumed the march where to ? The world 
 was all before him where to choose what should 
 he choose? 
 
 Being youthful and healthy, with a bright mind 
 and ideals of purity, the glory and call of Chivalry 
 came to him. He raised brown arms towards the 
 sun and noted with gratification their sinewy 
 
 evidence of strength. 
 
 162
 
 Dreams and Ideals 
 
 Those were arms wherewith to fight wrong and 
 help the weak. He picked up a fallen branch 
 and wielded it as though it were the long sword 
 of a shining knight. He saw monsters, giants, 
 wrongers of loveliness and the weak; and felled 
 them, grovelling. He became one of Quixote's 
 company. 
 
 Dreams, dreams ! He revelled in the visions of 
 youth, which, fortunately, die unnoticed at the 
 moment of their glowing generation. Dreams, 
 but not useless dreams for they feed and inspire 
 the mind, and ennoble earthly intent, enabling 
 some true work to be done, when the opportunity 
 calls for it. 
 
 Luke decided to be a knight, though not yet. 
 There was a wilderness of mean labour to be gone 
 through before he could win golden spurs but 
 what of that ? No true knight was ruined through 
 early ordeals. He would serve and be strength- 
 ened through humanity; and would be the better 
 knight because of the necessary waiting, watching, 
 marching, in the wilderness. 
 
 He would be true knight. His ladylove should 
 be Alys. Brave deeds should be done to her 
 honour. His watchword, Truth. 
 
 Meanwhile he plodded through the forest, feel- 
 ing hungry. 
 
 He was hatless. The sun shone on long brown 
 163
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 locks of thick hair. Face, arms, and legs were 
 tanned with exposure. A brown garment of skin 
 and sacking, bound at the waist by a leathern 
 girdle, hung in comfortable negligence from his 
 shoulders. His feet were shod in buskins of 
 untanned leather. An empty pouch hung at his 
 belt ; that was all his possessions. 
 
 He was not handsome. His features were bold 
 and irregular; but his eyes were brave, and the 
 spirit which shone in them was an endowment 
 and possession better than beauty. They were 
 the eyes of a knight with glowing ideals. 
 
 Should he be minstrel too? He had heard 
 troubadours at the monastery, repaying the 
 monks' hospitality with tributes of song; and 
 though he had never before thought of mere 
 melody-making, he was inclined now to try his 
 powers. 
 
 He imagined himself arrayed in silks and colours, 
 twanging a lute, singing to a company of the gal- 
 lant and beautiful. He raised his voice it was 
 not music which came. What was endurable in 
 a psalm-chorus would not therefore please the 
 ladies. The would-be minstrel died an immediate 
 death. 
 
 Luke traversed miles of wild woodland during 
 that afternoon and early evening. His feet 
 
 seemed never tired. He grew amazed at the 
 164
 
 vastness of the forest. Would he never see a 
 house, or reach the other side of the fastness of 
 turf and trees ? 
 
 At last he came to what, in the general path- 
 lessness of the wood, seemed something of the 
 semblance of a path. He turned down it. He 
 was anxious to end his journey through those 
 wilds of Weissnichtwo. 
 
 He walked along the pathway for some mile or 
 two, when he heard a voice. He stood still, ears 
 and eyes intent. Then he saw, peering out of the 
 thicket, a bearded face, grinning. 
 
 Luke hoped it was a friendly face; but he felt 
 queerly. 
 
 " Good evening, friend," he said. 
 
 " Good evening, friend," was answered at his 
 elbow. He found his elbows seized, imprisoned, 
 in an iron grasp : the face in the thicket continued 
 grinning. 
 
 165
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 LORDS IN THE FOREST 
 
 BEFORE Luke quite realised the position, deft 
 fingers had felt in his pouch. 
 
 " Poor devil! " quoth the man who had seized 
 him. " Not the shadow of a drink there! " and 
 loosed Luke to stare at him. 
 
 The rascal who grinned from the thicket came 
 from his fastness to stare too. 
 
 " You are a spy! " he hissed suspiciously. 
 " Who else would be coming our ways penniless ? " 
 
 " Are you? " said the other roughly. 
 
 " No, only a friendless man. I happened to be 
 going your way because there was a path " 
 
 " And a trap to catch boobies in! " interrupted 
 the man of grins, enjoying his own humour, and 
 thereby losing his suspicion. 
 
 The break of laughter served to relieve the 
 tension which had kept Luke passive. It woke 
 his sense of independence. He quickly studied 
 his captors, measured their condition and 
 character. 
 
 They wore the livery of the forest. Both 
 
 rascals were gaunt, sunburnt, ragged, unkempt. 
 
 166
 
 Lords in the Forest 
 
 Hair and beards made long appeals for scissors. 
 Each had a knife at his girdle and held a spear 
 in his brown hand. One had, also, a bow with 
 arrows slung across his shoulder. There was the 
 glint of the cunning of wildness in their eyes. 
 They were human foxes or wolves, made sly and 
 fierce by the utter abandon of their lives. They 
 were lawless, and beyond the laws ; except for the 
 primitive agreement which bound them to their 
 company; but to that primitive law, on which 
 their whole well-being was based, they were 
 completely faithful. 
 
 " This forest is no man's and every man's," 
 Luke asserted. " You have no right to prevent 
 my going whithersoever I please." 
 
 " Is it so, young cockerel? " cried the chief of 
 the two, ruffling. " Talk like that and I'll make 
 you cockadoodle to another tune. We are lords 
 in this forest ! " 
 
 Here the merrier rascal interposed with better 
 effect. 
 
 " You are a friendless man," he said to Luke. 
 " So are we. All hands are against us, but we are 
 loyal brothers, with our hands combined against 
 all else. Come with us; join our company. We 
 want lads of heart and muscle and equality. Can 
 ye fight? " he asked. 
 
 " I have never fought," said Luke simply. 
 167
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 "Never fought! Then we'll teach you! 
 Clench a fist! " 
 
 Luke did so. 
 
 "Hit me here! " said the outlaw, beating his 
 bony chest. " A good buffet straight from the 
 shoulder. Hit like a man, as hard and straight as 
 you can! " 
 
 Luke obeyed with a stout and level blow. The 
 other received it without yielding a grass-breadth. 
 
 " Pouf ! " was the contemptuous comment. 
 " God meant you for a dairymaid. That's a fist 
 for patting butter. But we'll make a man of you 
 yet. Come, Dirk," he continued to his glum 
 comrade, " shall we take the cub to the company ?" 
 
 The three walked in single file down the avenue, 
 Luke between. He had nothing to fear from that 
 pair; there was, besides, the hope of food and 
 guidance. How often is the hero heartened by 
 the promise of pudding ! 
 
 Twice were the three challenged. Each time 
 the challenge was made and met, Luke became the 
 target of wild and curious eyes. He found the 
 outlaws more numerous than he anticipated. 
 Now he had an opportunity of discovering what 
 lawlessness meant. This was the life which the 
 monks or his own insistence had condemned 
 him to! Well, no doubt there was a seamy 
 
 there was certainly a threadbare side to the 
 168
 
 Lords in the Forest 
 
 magic robe of liberty; but the prospect of the 
 open life in that early hour of freedom was not 
 disagreeable. 
 
 They came to a hidden clearing, made with fire 
 and axes, in the thickest part of the forest. Three 
 tents discoloured screens of coarse texture were 
 the only kinds of shelter other than the trees. 
 Large cauldrons steamed on fires which flamed 
 and smouldered. A column of thin blue smoke 
 drifted upwards into the overhanging branches. 
 Some dozen or fifteen men squatted or stretched 
 drowsily upon the turf. It was the hour of self- 
 indulgence and siesta. There was silence and 
 sluggish peace in the encampment, which even 
 Luke's arrival did not dispel. 
 
 Obedient to a gesture he rested by the fire, and 
 in a little while was eating heartily of bread and 
 broken meats; the drink was a rough cider made 
 by the gypsies themselves. 
 
 It was some time after darkness before there 
 was any bustle of life: then life bustled indeed. 
 There came faintly on the breeze a challenge which 
 drew a commanding answer. At once the lazy 
 ones lying about the encampment sprang to their 
 feet, buckled on swords and knives, fastened their 
 ungirthed belts and were prepared for the return 
 of the chief; while three women of poverty and 
 pity came from the tents and began to stir and 
 
 169 F2
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 test the contents of the cauldrons, throwing faggots 
 on the fires, making them blaze. 
 
 A few minutes afterwards the chief arrived a 
 black-bearded, fierce-eyed giant; his broad and 
 powerful body clad in a faded plum-coloured 
 jerkin. He carried a cross-bow in his hand; 
 sword and dagger dangled at his waist. Across 
 his shoulder a leathern bag, half-filled, was slung. 
 No sooner did he enter the clearing than his eyes 
 stared in stern enquiry at Luke. 
 
 " Who is this? " he asked; his voice had the 
 boom of a horn. 
 
 The three women turned from the cauldrons to 
 look at Luke: one of them gazed at him with 
 more than normal eagerness. She was a thin, 
 gaunt woman of few years, who might have had 
 some charms had she lived another kind of life. 
 She was a girl decayed in youth. 
 
 There was a general buzz of interest with ribald 
 jokes; while Luke, whose face was the only beard- 
 less one among them, flushed, rousing more 
 ribaldry and laughter. 
 
 Dirk was his apologist now. 
 
 " He is quite harmless. A penniless, starved 
 pup, whom we found wandering aimlessly in the 
 forest." 
 
 " Tell me your story, stranger, while the supper 
 
 is made ready," the chief commanded. 
 170
 
 Lords in the Forest 
 
 Luke thought it best to do so, though only a 
 bare outline was given. He said nothing of the 
 reasons for leaving the monastery; but made it 
 clear that he had been expelled, and that now he 
 wished to find Rudolph's castle, and enter the 
 Earl's service. 
 
 All the outlaws, except the few who helped 
 the women with the getting ready of the food, 
 squatted or stretched in a circle about Luke, 
 while standing he told his tale. The fact that he 
 had been expelled from anywhere gave him in- 
 stant entry to their free democracy. A victim, 
 and therefore supposed enemy, of the monks had 
 an especially potent claim on their comradeship. 
 No further passport to their favour could be 
 needed. They hated the Church with a wild, 
 unreasonable wrath. 
 
 'When Luke had ended his story, the women 
 gave the word that the food was prepared. So 
 all, except the prisoner-guest, ate greedily, and 
 drank thirstily. The women acted as servants; 
 neither sitting, eating, nor resting, until the men, 
 their masters, were done. The fragments were 
 thrown to some ill-conditioned dogs, the pets and 
 scavengers of the encampment, and the women 
 retired to their quarters in the tents. 
 
 For a time the men sprawled in the firelight, 
 
 dicing, drinking, talking loudly and with boastings 
 171
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 of the day's adventures, grumbling with a strange 
 variety of oaths at their misfortunes. It had been 
 a day of mean profit. Still they were jovial in 
 their discontent. The chief called suddenly to 
 Luke: 
 
 " Will you join our company, stranger? " 
 
 Luke did not at once answer. He had come to 
 dislike the riotous speeches, the filthy humour, the 
 coarse jesting, the licence. Dirk, his first friend, 
 now misreading his silence for the unwillingness 
 born of cowardice, interposed contemptuously. 
 
 " He's no man for us! He hasn't the guts of 
 a man. We've got three too many women as 
 it is!" 
 
 "Who says so?" asked the leader, glaring 
 savagely at his subordinate. " Your tongue is 
 surly, Dirk." 
 
 Dirk, between whom and his chief a feud and 
 old jealousy existed, laughed contemptuously, 
 grasping the hilt of his knife and defiantly returned 
 the look. 
 
 " Let him prove his stomach and strength by 
 wrestling with one of us," suggested a looker-on. 
 " Why waste words? " 
 
 " Ay! " was the general chorus. " A wrestling 
 match!" 
 
 " Can you wrestle? " the leader asked Luke. 
 
 " I will try." 
 
 172
 
 Lords in the Forest 
 
 " Bravo; that's a man's answer at any rate. 
 Form a ring! " 
 
 The outlaws, who were seated, shuffled back, 
 clearing a wide space. More wood was thrown on 
 the fires to add to the light. 
 
 " Who shall be our champion? " 
 
 " Dirk !" said the chief, with a sneering laugh. 
 
 " Do you mean that for an insult ? " Dirk roared. 
 
 " Don't be a fool! " said the chief shortly. " If 
 you don't want to wrestle, say so." 
 
 " To ask me, the second of the company in 
 strength and authority if indeed I am only the 
 second to wrestle with this boy is an insult which, 
 if repeated, will be answered this way!" He 
 drew his knife, felt the blade, and then, after a 
 deliberate look at the leader, resheathed it. 
 
 Luke had become alarmed by the quarrelling. 
 The first idea of a free woodland life had appealed 
 to him. The spirit of illusion had taken advan- 
 tage of his ignorance. He had read outlawry as 
 meaning personal liberty and freedom from blind 
 formulas, with life in the open under God's sky. 
 That would be the ideal life: but this wrath, 
 licence, unseemliness, was horrible! Alarmed at 
 the threat of savage bloodshed he interposed. 
 
 " I would not wrestle with Dirk," he said to the 
 chief decisively. " He is ten times as strong 
 as I."
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " Is that modesty or cowardice? " sneered the 
 leader. " Choose your own opponent, then." 
 
 Luke looked around. " There is no one here 
 with whom I should care to wrestle," he admitted. 
 
 " Ah! cowardice! " was the comment. 
 
 " No," cried Luke. " I am not a coward, but it 
 would be folly to think myself stronger than I am. 
 I have no such braggart's comfort; but I am 
 willing to meet any one you choose in a friendly 
 bout. You have fed me, treated me hospitably. 
 I owe something for that, and will repay it by 
 doing my best in a friendly wrestle." 
 
 No man moved. There was laughter and small 
 talk amongst them. Contempt was still audible 
 in their voices. 
 
 Then one of the women more anxious for 
 Luke's safety than she ought to have been 
 happened to peep from the tent. 
 
 " Ha, there's our champion! " cried the chief, 
 seeing her. " There's a rival fit for you, stranger. 
 Kathie! " he called. 
 
 A roar of delight and derision arose from the 
 crowd. Even Dirk's surliness dissolved in the 
 general laughter. 
 
 " Kathie! Kathie! " cried they all. 
 
 Luke turned to see whom they were addressing. 
 There to his dismay was the tall, gaunt, young 
 woman who had gazed so wistfully at him in the
 
 Lords in the Forest 
 
 beginning. She stood there breathing heavily, as 
 red as roses: a picture of speechless misery. 
 
 " What cowards you are! " cried Luke. " Is 
 this bravery? " 
 
 " Come here, Kathie ! " cried the chief, a sinister 
 note in his deep voice. 
 
 She hesitated, then obediently moved towards 
 him. 
 
 " You wrestle with this man! " 
 
 " She does not! " said Luke, with decision. 
 
 " I do not ! " she said. " I I would not hurt a 
 hair of his head ! " 
 
 The rascals roared with delight. This sort of 
 answer touched their humour like magic. The 
 girl hid her face and stood trembling. 
 
 " Cowards ! " Luke cried. "To insult a woman ! " 
 
 " See here, boy! " the chief said, darkly. There 
 was a tumult of angry voices. " Dub any of us 
 by that name again, and by God I'll kill you." 
 
 Luke's indignation was not subdued by that 
 or any threat. " Where is there man's work in 
 treating a woman so? " he asked. 
 
 "Hold your silly tongue," said Dirk. "Go 
 back to your tent, Kathie. Let Connol wrestle 
 with the bantam. Give him a lesson, Connol; 
 break a rib! " 
 
 The chief muttered a word confirming the 
 choice, and all squatted attentively in a ring;
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 while Connol, the tallest of the outlaws, rose and 
 threw off his torn outer garment of sheepskin. 
 Luke removed his pouch and tightened his waist- 
 belt. Both combatants kicked off their shoes; 
 then approached each other, watching closely. 
 
 It was Luke's first wrestling bout, though he had 
 often witnessed such encounters among the hinds 
 of the monastery. 
 
 After feinting twice, Connol rushed in and got 
 the grip. At once it was evident that the con- 
 testants were no match. The outlaw was the 
 superior in strength, height, and experience. 
 They fell. 
 
 "Break him!" cried Dirk, at which words 
 Kathie, in the background, screamed. 
 
 Luke was, however, not to be broken. He had 
 a pliant body and supple limbs, as well as the 
 elastic energy of youth. Dirk's words gave him 
 determination. He clenched his teeth and vowed 
 in his brain never to give in. He clung close to 
 his opponent : so close that Connol, who tried by 
 every art to master him, could not do so. Now 
 on feet, now lying lengthwise, both struggled 
 gamely, swaying and straining. Time after time 
 Luke was swung off the earth, time after time 
 the two were grovelling, he generally undermost, 
 but always he just evaded defeat. Every clinch 
 
 and throw known to Connol was tried in vain. 
 176
 
 Lords in the Forest 
 
 He could not get the other's obstinate shoulders 
 flat on the ground. He lost his temper. Luke 
 kept his; his wits as well. Minutes passed. 
 Luke's plucky fight roused frank admiration 
 among the outlaws. Dirk's prayer to Connol to 
 break him brought answering cheers for Luke. 
 Partisans sprang to their feet, and shouted en- 
 corragement and counsel. At length the chief 
 walked into the ring, and laid hands on each. 
 
 " Stop the bout," he cried. " Well done, young 
 stranger! " 
 
 The wrestlers loosed their grips and stood apart 
 panting. Connol eyed Luke angrily. Loud and 
 careless comments made by his companions were 
 wormwood to him. Tortured by their mispraise, 
 he came forward, challenging renewed combat; 
 but just then there was a distant hail, followed by 
 the sound of hastening feet. 
 
 A wild-looking, weary man ran into the en- 
 campment. 
 
 " Gawfrey, you bring news? " 
 
 " Yes, chief," answered the outlaw newly 
 arrived. 
 
 "Good news?" 
 
 " I hope so. The Abbot of St. Anthony's starts 
 secretly to-night fourteen men-at-arms to guard 
 him, and five shavelings to guard it with a chest 
 
 of gold Peter's pence from all around! " 
 177
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " Good news! Which way and whither do they 
 go? " 
 
 " Whither is not certain; but I had it from Tom 
 Paunch, in his cups, that they go in secret to-night, 
 and will be passing over the white river-bridge 
 within an hour of midnight! " 
 
 "Grand news!" cried the chief. "We will 
 count gold before morning, and then adieu to 
 hunger and these parts for a month or two! " 
 There was much unsuppressed excitement. " There 
 can be no more wresting now ! Stay till to- 
 morrow, stranger," he commanded Luke. 
 
 " One fall to decide! " Connol pleaded. 
 
 "No more wrestling!" said the leader, with 
 emphasis. 
 
 " I will throw him! " Connol declared, and 
 sprang at Luke: but before he could get a grip of 
 his throat, as he tried to do, the chief had also 
 sprung and seized and wrung the subordinate's 
 arm. There was iron and fire in that action. 
 Connol involuntarily cried with pain, and fell to 
 the ground dazed, his jerked arm very nearly 
 broken. He lay there for a little while, his eyes 
 flashing, his face pale, glaring at Luke, and 
 cursing him. 
 
 The chief went on unconcernedly giving in- 
 structions. 
 
 " Dirk, take three men. Scout through the 
 178
 
 Lords in the Forest 
 
 wood southwards, and get in touch with the shave- 
 heads, without letting them once see you or 
 suspect your whereabouts. Report to me as soon 
 as possible. I with seventeen men more than 
 enough will be waiting them in the thicket 
 before the bridge unless your report counsels 
 another plan. Connol, you come with me. The 
 rest will guard camp, and have food ready for our 
 return. " Boys," he cried cheerily, " this is great 
 news. The Abbot of Anthony's is a psalm-spit- 
 ting rascal I have long wished to meet; but his 
 store of Peter's pence will make amends for many 
 imperfections. When we have got it we go from 
 these parts. Gawfrey, come with me to my tent, 
 you shall drink well for the tidings your feet have 
 carried." 
 
 There was immediate bustle of preparation. 
 Swords, knives, spears, crossbows, and the weapons 
 of archery were again and again proved and tested. 
 Dirk and his scouts disappeared like shadows into 
 the forest shades. Of all that wild company, 
 Connol alone was silent, surly, and morose. His 
 fingers played with the haft of his knife. He 
 watched Luke without intermission. If ever the 
 baleful fiend of revenge looked through a man's 
 eyes, it peeped through Connol's black orbs then; 
 but Luke was heedless, indifferent to his danger. 
 
 He was glad to rest by the fire after his weary 
 179
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 march and subsequent desperate struggle. He 
 was interested in the scene of activity about him ; 
 but his thoughts returned to their olden problem. 
 In the outlaws' den he wondered about truth. 
 
 The darkness and the silence deepened as the 
 many minutes passed by and it was time to start. 
 The chief gave the word. There was at once 
 renewed excitement, wild and ready obedience. 
 The women emerged from their obscurity, bring- 
 ing a last stoup of liquor for the men. While the 
 outlaws were drinking, the chief again addressed 
 Luke: 
 
 " Stranger, if you are willing to join us, we shall 
 welcome you. I shall know your decision in the 
 morning." 
 
 Then, quiet as ghosts in the woodland, the 
 adventurers went their way, Connol glaring a last 
 look of murderous promise at Luke. The women 
 and about a dozen of the older men were left in 
 charge of the encampment. 
 
 180
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 FRIENDS OF THE FRIENDLESS 
 
 THE outlaws who remained tended the fires, 
 wrapped themselves in cloaks and blankets, and 
 with the exception of one who sat sentinel at 
 the entrance to the encampment went to sleep. 
 Luke lay by the fire, watching the flickering 
 flames and glowing embers while he thought of 
 that outlaw-life. 
 
 To-morrow he had to choose whether to join 
 the wild brotherhood or go back to the world of 
 conventional men. 
 
 He would say No to the proposal. That was his 
 ultimate decision. He closed his eyes and slept. 
 
 He woke suddenly. It was still the deep dark 
 of night. The warmth of the fires was subdued. 
 He sat up wondering whether the outlaws had 
 returned; and then discovered the cause of his 
 awakening. Kathie was there. Her pale face 
 shone vaguely in the flickering light. He saw her 
 put finger to lips counselling silence, and then 
 creep backwards into greater darkness. Luke, 
 obedient to her actions, rose and quietly followed 
 
 her. 
 
 181
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 When they were out of the sphere of firelight, 
 and well away from the outlaws sleeping, she 
 touched his arm and whispered: 
 
 " You must escape this night, even now." 
 
 " Your chief ordered me to stay until to- 
 morrow," Luke reminded her. 
 
 "Still, you must go! If you fail to do so, 
 Connol will kill you! " 
 
 "Kill me?" 
 
 " Connol will. He has the blood-thirst. I 
 know Connol, as I know them all! " she added 
 bitterly, " and not one would hesitate to knife you 
 for the smallest cause. You must go. Since you 
 wrestled with him, Connol's eyes have looked 
 murder. He hates you to the death, because all 
 saw he could not throw you. Nothing can save 
 you if you do not go! " 
 
 "But you!" 
 
 "I? " 
 
 " What will become of you? " 
 
 Luke could not see the girl's face; but he felt 
 his hand seized, raised, kissed passionately with 
 hot lips. Then she dropped the hand, and said 
 sorrowfully : 
 
 " This is my life. I could not go away. All my 
 kindred are here. I am too useful to be killed," 
 she added bitterly. 
 
 From his soul Luke pitied her. 
 182
 
 Friends of the Friendless 
 
 "You will remember me?" she went on 
 wistfully. 
 
 " Always, Kathie. I will never forget you, or 
 how you saved me! " 
 
 " There is the comfort that will stay with me. 
 I knew you must go ; at first I hated to tell you so, 
 because because I liked you, and wished to keep 
 you; but that would be cruelty to you, and Connol 
 would kill you, so I woke you. Here, wrapped in 
 leaves, is food that will keep you for a day. There 
 are springs in the forest to drink from. Good- 
 bye. What is your name? Tell it to me to 
 remember! " 
 
 " Luke is my name, Kathie." 
 
 " Luke," she repeated softly. " Call me again 
 by my name, Luke." 
 
 " Kathie, my sister Kathie," he murmured. 
 
 *' Good-bye, Luke," she said. Her voice fal- 
 tered she caressed his hands. 
 
 He clasped her in his arms, and kissed respon- 
 sive lips. 
 
 " Good-bye, good-bye, Kathie. I shall re- 
 member how you helped me this night ! " 
 
 " Where would you go? " she asked. 
 
 " To the Earl Rudolph of Redland's castle. Do 
 you know it ? I have a friend there. It is near 
 the Monastery of St. Dunstan." 
 
 " I do not know either place," she admitted. 
 183
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " We keep well away from castles and monas- 
 teries, and are seldom in these parts of the forest. 
 They must be to the north yonder, where those 
 seven stars are shining. I will guide you a little 
 way, as it is dark. Take my hand. Quietly! 
 There are no Connols that way! " 
 
 " You stay here, Kathie, where you are safe. 
 I will find the way." 
 
 " I am safe everywhere; but you, who know 
 not the forest and its lurking dangers, will 
 be quicker out of it, if I am your guide. 
 Come! " 
 
 Hand in hand they crept between the thickets, 
 speaking never a word. 
 
 At last they reached the roadway. The first 
 greyness of dawn was softening in the east. 
 
 " Follow the star," she said. " Good-bye, 
 good-bye ! " They kissed again and parted. Then 
 she plunged into the woodland, and he saw her 
 no more. 
 
 Luke walked well, and by sunrise had covered 
 miles. Shortly thereafter he came to the flower- 
 loved cottage, where on his outward journey the 
 woman of good heart had given him food; he was 
 on the right way ! 
 
 His living gratitude prompted him to make 
 some return. He ran into the forest, found and 
 
 plucked sweet flowers, and left them a fragrant 
 184
 
 Friends of the Friendless 
 
 tribute within her gate. Then he went on his 
 way. The journey was easy now; before evening 
 fell he would be with Ulf ! 
 
 He left the road to walk on the grass in the 
 shade of the trees, and, as he walked, remembered 
 the life of outlawry, shuddering at the wild 
 misery of their lot. The women, too! Poor 
 Kathie! He thought of the penalty of wrath 
 and hatred which the outlaws must suffer. Their 
 lot was that of utter loneliness and friendlessness. 
 Their union was knit through hatred against all 
 others. 
 
 "Poor brothers of mine!" to himself he 
 murmured. " Poor brothers of mine! " 
 
 He was still far almost as far as ever from 
 the accomplishment of his quest. He had hoped 
 to find something of the truth about life and 
 mankind in the wildness, and had found little more 
 than the angry rudeness of the outlawed. The 
 truth he sought was certainly not with them. 
 Could it be where lawlessness, fierceness, blas- 
 phemy, brutality reigned ? 
 
 So thinking, he marched from a fastness of 
 woodland riot to a fastness of organised strength, 
 and was buoyed with confidence that there, at 
 all events, he would find objects to love. There 
 would be Alys perhaps, and Ulf certainly. His 
 hopes grew confident, his spirits were high. Sing- 
 
 185
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 ing as he marched, he covered speedily the grassy 
 miles. 
 
 Leaving the monastery lands well to the left, 
 he plunged through the belt of forest, the outer 
 limit of Earl Rudolph's domain, wherein he had 
 never set foot before. 
 
 The freshness of the grass, with the sub-arboreal 
 coolness, soothed him. Though he had accom- 
 plished a long journey, his powers seemed hardly 
 less vigorous than ever, his hopes were so high. 
 He answered the evening calls and piping of 
 the birds with song and happy whistling. He 
 practised the old calls as he had learnt them in 
 days long-done; and then heard one of his calls 
 repeated ! 
 
 Was that man or bird? he asked himself. 
 Was that answering echo a message of sympathy 
 or mere mocking ? 
 
 The voice of the echo answered the unasked 
 question: out of the distance, softly, gaily, came 
 the lilt of a well-known song. 
 
 " Ulf, Ulf ! " he shouted, and ran. Ulf it was, 
 small birds fluttering and feeding about him. 
 
 Not three full days had passed since last 
 they met; yet how much had happened during 
 that little time! Earl's man and free man 
 stood gazing at each other, not speaking for a 
 
 while. 
 
 186
 
 Friends of the Friendless 
 
 Then Luke told his tale fully, beginning with 
 the evening of Jerome's attempt to exorcise the 
 devils, to the present victorious hour of reunion. 
 Ulf, watching his friend's face, listened with grow- 
 ing wonder, which exploded in wrath. 
 
 " The tyrants! " he muttered, shaking a fist in 
 the direction of St. Dunstan's. " I am glad you 
 have left that shrine of bitterness and hypocrisy. 
 Tis a pig's nest. We will sing a joyful Te Deum 
 because the fools have dismissed you ! They have 
 thereby foolishly done one good deed! " 
 
 " I am glad to be here, Ulf, though Mause and 
 Hilary are there; but I have no hatred against 
 any of the monks." 
 
 " You were meant for a holy martyr! " was 
 Ulf's sarcastic comment. " I hate them all I 
 am bound to confess it I hate them all, from 
 Abbot to exorcist. Their prayers and poses could 
 not save Lilith; and now you, who held the 
 humblest of their offices faithfully, from child- 
 hood to manhood, are sent packing like a lost 
 sinner, just because you asked for the plain mean- 
 ing of their antics. It is all one lie! " 
 
 The jester spoke with angry bitterness. Luke 
 had never before seen him so vehement. 
 
 " I cannot think that, Ulf." 
 ' You will learn, my son, you will learn! 
 
 There is no comfort for the intelligent mind in 
 187
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 blind faith. We have, the wisest of us has, less 
 knowledge of the invisible than the playing child. 
 If you want some truth about the mysteries, 
 hearken to infants at their games. They know 
 as much as Jerome! " 
 
 For a time they sat with silence. Then Ulf 
 sprang up. 
 
 " It is growing dark, I must be tickling the fools 
 with my folly. Have cheer, O Lucas! There 
 are smiles in the world yet. I'll be your father- 
 confessor henceforth for evermore! " 
 
 " Will you help me, Ulf, to find occupation in 
 the Earl's household? I will work faithfully." 
 
 " I know that, my lad of loyalty ! I will do my 
 best for you. Be prepared, though, for a harsh 
 ordeal. The motley-man alas! has little more 
 influence among the sparks in office than a joking 
 jackdaw." 
 
 " I would rather fight my own battle, Ulf." 
 
 " And will have to woe or well be the word 
 from the very beginning." 
 
 " I have hands, wit, and gratitude. I will be 
 worthy of you, Ulf! " 
 
 " You are more than that already, Luke; be 
 worthy of yourself, and of your dreams." 
 
 Ulf led the way rapidly towards the castle. 
 Luke followed eagerly. Hope's dreams about the 
 
 future were busy in his brain. He had all the 
 
 188
 
 Friends of the Friendless 
 
 rich optimism of youth. That world of trees was 
 transformed to him. The plain things around 
 him were magically different. He roamed through 
 a brave wilderness thronged with visions of 
 knightliness and beauty. He saw himself in 
 shining armour, astride a large white horse, hold- 
 ing a banneret of cloth of gold, on which a red 
 device was worked. A long sword hung at his 
 side. His head was bare, for with gauntleted left 
 hand he balanced a plumed helmet on the pommel 
 of his saddle. The knight with the proud, glad 
 eyes himself rode towards a lady, beauteous; 
 all graces were shrined in that one being It was 
 Alys! the ideal! 
 
 Ulf's voice waked him from reverie. 
 
 " You will have to do the filthiest work in the 
 stables, for a time. It is the ordeal insisted on by 
 the Earl, to prove fitness for fighting. You will 
 be servant to all the brutes, for a while. You will 
 cleanse stables, polish dishes, wash dogs, scour 
 armour, run wherever and whenever a petty 
 tyrant shall order it. You will have to endure 
 every form of drudgery, insult, shame do the 
 thousand mean duties which to all of us are 
 hateful. Can you bear it, I wonder? I will help 
 you, guard and love you; but how little can any 
 underling do. Bear it you must. How can you 
 
 endure outside the castle ? There is little friend- 
 189
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 ship in the world for the church's outcasts; the 
 psalm-bellowers are vindictive enemies. They 
 beat earls in the end. But by those stars I 
 swear it! I will help you while life and my wit 
 last; for I love you, Lucas, and when the drud- 
 gery is threatening to break your heart, as it may 
 do, I will remind you of the nobler dreams. I will 
 teach you what little I can of swordsmanship and 
 archery, so that you may the sooner leave the 
 kitchen to be one of Rudolph's fighting retainers 
 and perhaps some one else's tyrant yourself. For- 
 give me! You will never be that, I know; but 
 will always bear yourself worthily in the manly 
 way!" 
 
 " Like the true knight, Ulf ! " 
 ' You dream of being knight one day? " 
 " It is among my dreams," Luke admitted, 
 with colour in his cheeks and shining in his 
 eyes. 
 
 " Then keep the dream, young warrior. Even 
 if it never comes true keep the dream! " Ulf 
 curled his lips sarcastically at his own enthusiasm, 
 and went on sardonically: " Knight or jester, 
 baron or scullion, all will be one dust to grow 
 cabbages in some day. Yet," his real self 
 breaking out again " true knighthood is a grand 
 ideal the best we have left to us, now. Courtesy, 
 
 constancy, truth, gentleness, humility, bravery 
 190
 
 Friends of the Friendless 
 
 those are the marks of the true knight. How few 
 true knights there are! Here is the castle. 
 Phew! I am late; I must run. Wait beside the 
 entrance till I come again! " 
 
 Ulf ran on, sprang with large strides over the 
 drawbridge, and through the guarded portal in the 
 large iron gate. 
 
 Luke followed shortly after. As he went he 
 examined with awe and wonder the great strong- 
 hold, which pointed grey turrets at the pale stars. 
 Power and pitilessness seemed written over that 
 cold and frowning front. What was waiting 
 for him behind that iron gateway? Drudgery, 
 shame, hardship. But what if there were? 
 He was prepared to face the worst that could 
 happen. Life is no game of feathers for the 
 poor. 
 
 Beyond that portal waited the new life. Monks 
 and outlaws now would be left behind. A new 
 existence was beginning. With which kind of 
 old life would the new life link with the moral 
 slavery of the monastery, or the immoral liberty 
 of the forest? Perhaps with neither perhaps 
 with both. He realised the weakness of the 
 individual in comparison with the strength of 
 that Will which some call Fate, and others 
 God. 
 
 There was no use making guesses about the 
 191
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 future. That was not the key to open the house 
 of fortune. He was resigned to that fact. It was 
 his duty to take what offered, and do his very best 
 with it. He learnt this truth in those minutes of 
 waiting. 
 
 It is not we who set our feet among the problems, 
 but another, whose puppets we are. 
 
 192
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 EARL'S MAN 
 
 WHILE Luke waited without, he could hear, as a 
 confused blur of sound, the noise of the feasters 
 within the stronghold. Presently Ulf came, and 
 bade him follow. They passed the warders at the 
 gate, who glanced at Luke surlily, went over a 
 stony courtyard, loud with the sounds of iron- 
 shod feet, and up winding steps, into the great 
 hall. 
 
 The confused noise, the tangle of tongues, and 
 ringing of cups and dishes, with the stifling heavy 
 heat, afflicted Luke as though the place were a 
 foreword of Pandemonium. 
 
 Ears and eyes were dazed by the glaring scene; 
 all was so rude, barbarous, bizarre. 
 
 At the centre of a long raised table sat the 
 lord of the castle, Earl Rudolph, a hard-featured, 
 long-bearded, grey man, whose restless eyes 
 glanced keenly from under protuberant brows. 
 He wore a loose purple gaberdine, richly decor- 
 ated. Round his neck was a thick gold chain. A 
 193 c
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 sword in a jewelled scabbard hung by the back of 
 his chair. He frowned at his thoughts, as, with 
 ever-active fingers, he toyed with the stem of a 
 wine-cup. 
 
 The guests who sat at his table, and the sub- 
 ordinates and retainers beneath, were noisy, 
 hilarious, and familiar. 
 
 All were brightly, some richly, dressed. Orna- 
 mented daggers were the only weapons worn; but 
 swords, lances, and shields were ranged or hanging 
 against the walls, from which were suspended 
 lazy banners, rent and stained. Torches in their 
 sconces spat and flared. 
 
 Ulf continued his way along the centre of the 
 room, between the retainers' tables, until he came 
 to the platform on which the principal table was 
 set. There he squatted, and with his bauble 
 stroked and tickled a great hound, one of many 
 dogs sprawling there. 
 
 Luke, following Ulf's counsel, remained just 
 within the doorway, in the shelter afforded by 
 some loose tapestry, curiously watching the scene 
 of tumult and splendour. 
 
 Eight young minstrels in gay parti-coloured 
 hose and feathers and fine laces were tuning 
 lutes and testing pipes, preparatory to making 
 melody. 
 
 The Earl uprose. There was a shout, then 
 194
 
 Earl's Man 
 
 confusion of tongues and gradual silence. Every 
 one strained ears to hear his speech oratory 
 brief and blunt. 
 
 " Good health to our ladies." 
 
 The men sprang to their feet, shouting, " Our 
 ladies! Our ladies! " 
 
 Cups, wine-laden, were raised in celebration. 
 A chorus, more jolly than refined, was begun by 
 the minstrels, and joined in thunderously by the 
 excited men. 
 
 Luke was staring, fascinated, at the scene. 
 Here was chivalry! he thought. His eyes 
 sparkled. Here were men honouring women: 
 men -of -arms pledged to fight for the weak, to 
 help the oppressed, to honour the beautiful and 
 the pure. He looked around curiously at the 
 ladies present. They were lolling, smiling, sim- 
 pering. Their loveliness was beyond his dreams. 
 He had not hitherto seen so much beauty. In 
 the monasteries woman had been a trap for sin, a 
 loveliness to avoid. But now ! 
 
 Our ladies! The clamour of the gallant was 
 still undiminished when Luke's eyes, ranging 
 along the lines of seated beauties, were stayed. 
 At the end of the table where the chief dependants 
 sat was a girl, impressively beautiful, slender, 
 shapely, golden-haired, bright-eyed ; her white 
 skin touched with blushes.
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Alys! Luke said to himself, while his heart 
 throbbed fiercely. 
 
 Was it Alys? 
 
 By her side stood a tall man, bearded, wearing 
 huntsman's garb. Luke remembered all he had 
 ever known of Alys what was said on the occa- 
 sion of their meeting. That must be her father, 
 Godfrey the hunter, next to whom Alys would 
 properly be sitting. It must be it was Alys! 
 Luke's eyes rested with adoration and delight 
 upon the beautiful face. Down, deep down into 
 the wonderful depths of love he wandered. Under 
 the spell the magic maid unconsciously was 
 weaving, he fell; till his soul, expanding in the 
 ether of its own happiness, dominated. 
 
 He was a new being, winged with joy, living for 
 that delicious while a roseate existence, touching 
 the lighted summits of absolute happiness, filled 
 with a triumphant confidence and content. He 
 loved, he loveu that was all he knew, all he 
 wanted to know in those moments of rapture. 
 
 The toast was drunk, the vociferous noise 
 subsided. The minstrels sang again and again. 
 Choruses heartily rendered by the retainers made 
 echoes in the rafters above; throughout the 
 merriment, in the intervals of pause, Ulf's quaint- 
 ness of humour and deliberately maladroit 
 
 snatches roused bursts of laughter, which the 
 196
 
 EaiTs Man 
 
 Earl led boisterously. Through it all, Luke, 
 standing in the shadows, watched the girl of his 
 life. 
 
 Among the guests at the principal table, some 
 five places to the left of the Earl, sat a youth 
 handsomely and richly dressed, who could drink 
 and jest like a man's man, and kiss with glances 
 like a maid's. He laughed and sported with 
 wit, and ogled the ladies Alys especially in a 
 manner so open and unembarrassed that Luke, 
 watching him, felt embarrassed and ashamed. 
 
 At last the revelry lagged, and the Earl's rising 
 gave the signal for it to end. He, with his imme- 
 diate guests, passed from the platform, down 
 the side of the hall where Luke was standing. 
 
 Next to the Earl, almost at the noble elbow, 
 Ulf shuffled, still uttering jest and gibe to make 
 and keep genial his master. The merry-man now 
 had policy in his wit-making. After him came 
 three ladies of most excellent beauty nieces 
 and daughter of Rudolph. Following them swag- 
 gered Berlyn, the youth of eyes, who as he passed 
 parallel to Alys, gave a bold glance Luke's heart 
 went cold and received one as ardent in return. 
 
 The Earl had noticed Luke long before the 
 evening's revelry was over: and, knowing him to 
 be none of his men, stopped to question. Ulf was 
 
 ready to help with the answers. 
 
 197
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " You were swineherd at the monastery," was 
 the Earl's summary, when Luke's outline of his- 
 tory was finished, " and want to be stableman 
 here ? Ulf your surety ! We can't apprentice him 
 to you, Ulf; his face is too saturnine, too full 
 of the thinking which oppresses, to make whole- 
 some mirth from under a fool's cap. Take him to 
 Barbary in the kitchen, and when he has fed 
 and put on the livery, Spen-of-the-stables shall 
 set him to work. Good-night, rascals. Come, 
 Berlyn." 
 
 While Earl had been talking to Luke, an idle 
 hearkening crowd about them, Alys, by accident 
 with design, had drifted down the room. She 
 glanced in curiosity at Luke, but for a moment 
 only; her eyes impudence in them went on 
 and held Berlyn's. 
 
 He, however, being betrothed to Rudolph's 
 daughter, was unwilling to acknowledge her 
 familiarity so near the Earl, and therefore, rather 
 to escape her attention than from reasons of spite, 
 began to question Luke, who found himself a 
 centre of unpleasant notice. 
 
 " By the shape of your jowl, your father was a 
 fighter. Was he? " asked Berlyn. 
 
 " I do not know, I had no father." 
 
 "Wonderful! Did a further miracle happen 
 
 and you dispense with a mother? " 
 198
 
 Earl's Man 
 
 " I know nothing of my father or mother; J 
 was a foundling." 
 
 "A foundling! Who knows, you may be a 
 fairy prince stolen by witches and transformed to 
 a state of ugliness, or king of the gypsies in a 
 gypsy's royal disguise. Now, confess, swine- 
 herd, haven't you imagined yourself the lost son 
 of a lord? " 
 
 Luke in his simplicity was on the point of 
 making confession of some of his unworldly 
 dreams, when the laughter of the men and the 
 glance which Ulf gave him, counselled prudence. 
 He flushed, but made no answer. 
 
 "Let the lad be, Berlyn! don't put vain 
 thoughts into humble heads! " So saying, the 
 Earl departed, and Berlyn, with a final significant 
 glance at Alys, followed him. The retainers, 
 standing by Luke, taking the cue from Berlyn, 
 began the baiting of the stranger. 
 
 They were rude fellows all, without an ounce of 
 true chivalry in their stout bodies. They could 
 fight, swear, drink, eat. Excess of thought never 
 gave them sleeplessness. Loyalty to their lord 
 was their great virtue. Every one of them would 
 have died without a murmur for his sake, just 
 as every one would have gone silently through 
 torture rather than risk being called coward. 
 
 They were a company of very first-rate fighting 
 199
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 men excellent machines for force and wrong- 
 doing, almost impervious to pain, impervious 
 quite to others' pain. 
 
 Horseplay was their pastime. A new comrade 
 was always food for mirth and antics, until he 
 showed how to use his strength effectively. Ulf 
 knew that Luke ran the risk, but he hoped by 
 using his peculiar, though largely unrealised, 
 influence over Rudolph and his retainers, to secure 
 his friend from mishandling till that friend was 
 able to take care of himself. 
 
 Berlyn's mockery, however, and the evident 
 shyness of the victim, had precipitated an oppor- 
 tunity. Luke was obviously a fine butt for rude 
 humour. The mischief-makers surged towards 
 him with threats and laughter. Ulf sprang for- 
 ward waving his bauble, and striving, by begin- 
 ning the chanting of a favourite old ditty, to direct 
 their merriment another way. He began; but 
 the effect of his effort was lost in the heavy atmo- 
 sphere of mischief. The jester was seized, his 
 cockscomb pulled over his eyes, and he care- 
 fully but firmly pushed through the portal. The 
 door was shut with a clang; the bolts thrust 
 home. Luke was a prisoner. A triumphant shout 
 went up. 
 
 " On the table with the lord's son," shouted one. 
 
 Luke was bewildered by the din and confusion, 
 
 200
 
 EarPs Man 
 
 but calm and patient. He was lifted, pulled and 
 pushed to the nearest table. 
 
 /' A fight! make him fight! " bawled another. 
 
 " Strip him," counselled a third. 
 
 "Strip him! strip him! drench him!" cried 
 others. There was a babel of bad advice. 
 
 Swish! A bucketful of water soused him and 
 those of his tormentors who were nearest. It 
 left him breathless and angry. His fellow-victims 
 were swearing wrathfully, giving further occasion 
 for the onlookers' riotous laughter. Luke was 
 furious; but he had wit enough to know it would 
 be futile in his impotence to show anger. So he 
 endured and watched for an opportunity. He 
 was, however, determined not to be a passive 
 victim. 
 
 Then an opportunity came. The anger of the 
 men who had shared the drenching had developed 
 into a pretty squabble amongst themselves. For 
 the moment he was forgotten. He sprang from 
 the table, and ran, breaking a way through the 
 crowd towards the door. He just escaped a 
 second deluge. The effort was useless. He was 
 caught and roughly dragged back to the place 
 of prominence. 
 
 " Strip him, strip him! " was now the general 
 cry. Prominent in the uproar were the voices 
 of women. 
 
 201 G2
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Luke clenched his teeth and struggled gamely, 
 though very roughly handled. His poor coat was 
 badly torn one sleeve rent sheer away; but he 
 closed with the nearest man and wrestled fiercely. 
 He threw his opponent down and fell with him, 
 but the odds were too many against him. He 
 was a toy in the hands of the powerful. He 
 writhed and wriggled, dodged and struggled 
 desperately, using all his wits and energies to 
 elude their intention and baffle them, and was 
 aided by their confusion of numbers; but it was 
 all without avail. 
 
 He was raised to the table again, his arms 
 dragged back. Then for a moment, he had, 
 through blood-shot eyes, a glimpse of the cruel 
 and merry multitude, and there in the midst 
 laughing with the best of them Alys ! 
 
 The sight of that face of dreams was de- 
 structive to his efforts. How could she the 
 feminine perfection of sweetness and grace 
 endure to be one of that coarse throng, with 
 the others intent on his shame and discomfiture. 
 She gave the death-blow to his little pride. His 
 hopes shrivelled like scorched flowers. 
 
 " Now strip the dog! " . 
 
 The cry renerved him. 
 
 With a start and jerk he wrenched his hands 
 away, and turned abruptly. Those who held him 
 
 202
 
 Earl's Man 
 
 snarled angrily and sprang at him roughly, wil- 
 fully causing him quick pain. He was again 
 powerless. 
 
 Another bucket of water had been brought. 
 His resistance had suggested a worse punishment ; 
 instead of being used to drench him, it was placed 
 on the ground, and he, struggling but absolutely 
 impotent against so much force, was bodily raised, 
 turned feet-uppermost, and held, his head im- 
 mersed. He kicked convulsively, breathed water ; 
 his head throbbed with pain, his ears ached; he 
 lost consciousness. 
 
 Then a loud knocking at the door made the 
 heroes of horse-play cease. 
 
 " The Earl! the Earl! " went round in startled 
 whispers. 
 
 Luke was summaiily dropped; the bucket 
 toppled, water overran, his unconscious form was 
 pushed and kicked under the table, as the bolts 
 of the door were laboriously shot back, the portal 
 opened, and the Earl Ulf before him strode 
 into the hall. 
 
 203
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 DRUDGERY AND DISILLUSION 
 
 A HUSH fell on the assemblage. All the old as 
 well as the careless were awed by the Earl's 
 stern presence. 
 
 " Where is the stranger? " he asked. 
 
 There was confusion and the buzz of many 
 voices. The men, moral cowards, nearest Luke, 
 stooped and raised him, urging, commanding, 
 imploring him to pass the incident off. Luke had 
 already regained consciousness. The habit, un- 
 learnt, inherent, of shielding and forgiving those 
 who required protection and pardon, spoke 
 through his lips. 
 
 " I am here, lord Earl! " he answered. 
 
 His head was swaying and dizzy, his eyes 
 temporarily blinded, his body ached, and was cold 
 from the drenching. His speech was weak and 
 faltering, yet so silent was the great room that 
 every word could be clearly heard. 
 
 " That is well," said the Earl significantly. 
 " Swineherd, go with Ulf." 
 
 So ended Luke's public initiation into the new 
 204
 
 Drudgery and Disillusion 
 
 craft and fellowship. Henceforth he would be 
 Earl's man. 
 
 That night he slept on the straw-strewn floor of 
 Ulf's cell, He had doffed his old sheepskin and 
 put on the coarse blue livery of Rudolph's lowliest 
 servers. Humble though his office was, he felt to 
 the full his new responsibility. He was Earl's 
 man. One of the company of the chivalrous. 
 
 His position and functions were, in sooth, 
 humble enough. Every one of the Earl's servitors 
 was his master, entitled by right of custom to 
 use his services; but then, as ever, Luke in his 
 optimism saw only the brightness of the future. 
 He welcomed the prospect of drudgery, regard- 
 ing it merely as the necessary ordeal which proved 
 men worthy of knightliness. 
 
 For hours after Ulf had fallen asleep, Luke was 
 awake. The narrow confinement of the room and 
 the unwonted circumstances, as well as his recent 
 excitement, kept his brain active. Berlyn's 
 questioning about his father, the exalting, dis- 
 appointing meeting with Alys, the plain fact of 
 the brutality of the retainers men of chivalry, 
 too ! with multitudinous associated ideas, rushed 
 in tangles through his restless brain, till wakeful- 
 ness itself brought utter weariness. He was too 
 tired for absolute sleep; too excited, too weary 
 
 for dreamlessness or forgetfulness. But as night 
 205
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 wore to morning, he became less aware of the 
 world-sounds about him Ulf's regular breathing, 
 the crackles in the straw, the distant song of a 
 cricket. His mind, in the twilight state between 
 sleeping and open-eyed consciousness, ruled and 
 was independent of the will. 
 
 His unknown father and mother! Who were 
 they ? Where were they ? Why had he been left 
 to the charity of the monks and Mause ? Luke 
 in dreamland's vanity giving thought to Berlyn's 
 irony, imagined himself the son of nobility stolen 
 by enemies, hidden in the sty. He had dreams of 
 many might-have-beens. 
 
 Ulf turning in the straw waked him sufficiently 
 to draw his mind for a flash from the country of 
 fevered visions to that of uncomfortable reality. 
 Luke, momentarily wide awake, with an effort put 
 from him that series of vain thoughts. King's son 
 or serf's son in the eyes of the angels it was all 
 one! Blind to externals, they see the soul, and 
 judge from that whether the being be slave or 
 monarch of himself ! 
 
 As once more Luke sank into the body-sleep 
 which enwrapped him his mind was still the 
 autocrat, eyes staring at the darkness a voice in 
 his brain spoke the word " Peruel." 
 
 Luke heard it ; but having no key to its signifi- 
 cance, did not at once heed it. 
 206
 
 Drudgery and Disillusion 
 
 " Peruel," after a while the voice said again. 
 
 Now he sat upright, wondering. Who was that 
 calling ? Who who was called ? 
 
 The ideas which thronged his mind were un- 
 worldly, indefinite; vaguely he seemed to see 
 himself under different conditions, in another 
 environment and estate. 
 
 There were weird, shadowy presences. Crea- 
 tures of dread hovered mistily about him. He 
 was one of them, though not entirely one with 
 them, amongst haunts of humiliation and woe. 
 He knew himself as a being bound to misery, lost 
 and shrouded, imprisoned by infinite fear. 
 
 " Peruel! " came the voice a third time. 
 
 Out of the darkness a demonic face shone 
 luridly. Hatred flashed from evil eyes. 
 
 "Damned! Damned! Irrevocably damned! " 
 
 Luke was horrified, panic-stricken. He threw 
 himself back on his bed, hiding his eyes with his 
 hands: but still could see dreadful shapes and that 
 face of final hate. It haunted the chambers of his 
 brain until, roused to fight the oppressive influ- 
 ences, he sat upright once more and outstared the 
 evil countenance, saying one prayer. 
 
 At once it slowly faded: the foul shadows fled. 
 That hour of Hell's dread was ended. 
 
 Then he rested, knowing the solace of wearied 
 
 peace; but gradually his thoughts returned to 
 207
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Alys. His mind brooded over her he re- 
 membered the old glowing hopes and the grey 
 disappointment. A good many illusions were 
 transformed or slain in the process. The new 
 Alys was a different person from that he had 
 bravely expected. In the past he had exalted a 
 myth-maiden, an unfair thing to do. She was 
 physically quite as beautiful as he had painted 
 her; but he confessed the fact with chagrin, in her 
 loveliness there was an essential element lacking 
 men call it soul ! 
 
 During that hour of restless vigil, Alys seemed 
 to him to possess two personalities, each compet- 
 ing with the other. There was the unknown 
 maiden, builded of dreams, who shone queenly in 
 grace and faerie loveliness. There was that other, 
 the maid of mocking laughter. How far was she 
 from the Alys of old-time ! 
 
 His gallantry fought for the better opinion ; and 
 so prevailed that in time his idealising faculty dis- 
 placed the worse Alys. He decided to remember 
 only the girl of visions, and knew well that he 
 loved her. He was hers henceforth, for ever, ever- 
 more. Come weal or woe, come glory or shame, 
 come happiness or misery; come what might, 
 Luke had found his life idyll, which could be 
 wrested from him never! 
 
 The new purgatory of toil was soon begun. 
 208
 
 Drudgery and Disillusion 
 
 The reign of drudgery was inaugurated before his 
 eyes could close in sleep. Even before dawn he 
 was roused by his masters, and sent to work in 
 the courtyard and stables, in the kitchen, and 
 lastly, in the hall while the retainers fed. Every- 
 where the most menial, dishonouring, dishearten- 
 ing toil was given him. He was a marked man. 
 Tyranny kept its eyes upon him. When the hall 
 and rooms were empty, he was cleaning and 
 furbishing them, preparing future comforts for 
 others. 
 
 At every meal he had to fetch and carry in 
 attendance on his misdoers. From dawn till long 
 after dark, he was hurrying hard at work. Every 
 man was his taskmaster, no one his inferior. His 
 wretched equals were work- wasted drudges: 
 semi-imbeciles, toil-deadened in soul and intellect. 
 Had it not been for the guarding love and care of 
 Ulf, Luke could not without breaking have en- 
 dured even one of those heavy days. 
 
 There was in the beginning little surcease of 
 labour. He had to consume what food was given 
 him while he worked. The only solace he had 
 was during the too few hours of night when, 
 though wracked and aching with weariness, he 
 reclined in the little turret chamber, whispering 
 confidences with Ulf, and hoarding his dreams. 
 
 Luke strove manfully at his labour; and, gain- 
 209
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 ing skill and confidence with experience, was be- 
 fore long able to get through it more rapidly and 
 easily. Still he was in fact a serf, unable even to 
 go by himself away from the castle. All the 
 recreation he had was with Ulf, who taught 
 him what he knew of swordsmanship, spearman- 
 ship, and the uses of the shield. Luke practised 
 eagerly, and soon gained passable skill and readi- 
 ness of fence. 
 
 Ulf gave up his own liberty to bear his friend 
 company, often sitting with him in the winds and 
 hidden solitude of the keep's roof, gazing from the 
 battlements over the stretching countryside, with 
 its panorama of brown-green woods and forest, 
 hills in the blue distance, gleaming, curving 
 rivers, and the grey monastery of St. Dunstan, in 
 the near west. Often Luke watched the place of 
 his earlier life and watching, wondered. What 
 an age-long time seemed the handful of weeks 
 which had passed since Hilary and Mause were 
 closely in his life ! Memories came to Luke while 
 he sat among the turrets, and also dreams with 
 Alys in the foreground of those dreams. But, 
 alas for his ideal of Alys ! 
 
 One day while Ulf and he were on the battle- 
 ments talking, Luke saw a couple, walking as 
 lovers along an avenue. No one but he, situate 
 where he was, could see them. 
 
 210
 
 Drudgery and Disillusion 
 
 Ulf watched the grey come into his face; but 
 considerate as always, gave no sign that he saw. 
 
 Alys was walking secretly with Berlyn; re- 
 peatedly they kissed. Their progress was a page 
 of lover's history. 
 
 Berlyn was betrothed to the Earl's daughter. 
 That hidden association with Alys could only 
 bring her shame. 
 
 Luke sprang to his feet, tearing his eyes from 
 the vivid picture that fascinated and seared them, 
 and with a muttered excuse to Ulf, ran down to 
 the kitchens to deaden with labour his pain. Ulf 
 peered over the battlements, in search of the sight 
 that had stung Luke. He saw, and knew that 
 his heart had grown hard against Alys. He loved 
 Luke beyond all living men and all memories 
 save one. He had the will to kill Berlyn then. 
 
 Meanwhile the swineherd become Earl's man 
 knew the agony of jealousy. The most beautiful 
 illusion of his life was in danger of being dispelled; 
 but even yet he clung to his idyll, hoping for any 
 explanation that would justify the scene he had 
 witnessed. He could not bear to lose his con- 
 fidence in Alys. So strange is it with humankind ! 
 Through every hour of many a hard and heavy 
 day Luke fought, mind and heart, for his old ideal 
 of Alys. 
 
 There followed a period of anguish. Days 
 
 211
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 passed. Luke's soul journeyed through a valley 
 of shadow the shadow of sorrow. He was tried 
 in a heavy ordeal, and only after great suffering, 
 passed the trial. That ordeal of pain made him 
 a man noble, tried, true. 
 
 During the leaden and grievous months of 
 that winter of misery and heavy labour, many 
 of Luke's ideals were endangered. Most of the 
 glowing hopes he had taken into that knightly 
 house had come to be shattered or threatened 
 with decay. 
 
 The Earl he found a strong, unscrupulous ruler, 
 never hesitating to remove summarily any obstacle 
 that lay in his will's way. On one morning, while 
 Luke waited by the entrance with a pair of hounds 
 in leash, he saw Rudolph strike a weakling in the 
 face with his iron gauntleted hand, sending the 
 unfortunate blood-blinded away. He heard him, 
 too, within the succeeding hour, give abrupt orders 
 for an old widow's poor hut to be burnt, because 
 gossip had brought to his ears a tale of mischief 
 cast on his cattle through the power of her evil 
 eye. Yet had Luke faith in the Earl's justice. 
 He knew it would be hard justice, merciless, but 
 justice still. Luke had absolute faith in that. 
 
 The knightliness he had looked for in that 
 martial court was all one vicious fraud. The 
 retainers were rascals! The phrases and cant 
 
 212
 
 Drudgery and Disillusion 
 
 of chivalry were often on their lips; but none of 
 them whether knight, or squire, or man-at-arms 
 lived in truth the least letter of those phrases. 
 The canons of chivalry were to them as a dead 
 creed. The weak they despoiled; the poor they 
 robbed; the innocent they wronged. The out- 
 laws of the forest, with all their riot and lawless- 
 ness, were in point of honour and true manliness 
 not one whit their inferiors. As for Woman, they 
 lauded her vociferously; but it was lip-loyalty, 
 mouth-service. Their ideas of Woman were 
 brutish and uncleverly cynical. There were 
 budgets of tales afloat about their ladies. Alys 
 herself wore the ugly glory of an ill-name. 
 
 Disillusion on these and kindred subjects crept 
 over Luke's mind. He fought against the admis- 
 sion that they were ideals decayed; and Ulf, 
 knowing his despair, seeing his need, helped him; 
 but how, among so many witnesses to falsity, 
 could such disillusionment be resisted? Ulf 
 sympathised deeply and helped loyally, but what 
 could be done ? There was nowhere else to shelter 
 him no other to comfort him. 
 
 Luke at last lost all his illusions about the 
 knights of that court and their chivalry. It was 
 illusion which went, not faith in true knightliness. 
 
 His illusions faded like dead leaves in an autumn 
 
 wind, but he kept his own pure knightliness. In 
 213
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 the lonely silence of his life he burnished his 
 purposes, vowing that, though he wore no spurs, 
 and was would be ever, perhaps only a scullion, 
 he would be true till death to his own created 
 knightly ideals, enduring its harsh servitude 
 devotedly and with faithfulness. Ulf, who with 
 all his spoken cynicism saw behind the shadows, 
 encouraged him to the keeping of these ideals. 
 So the fight went on. 
 
 214
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 RECOGNITION 
 
 WEEKS passed, and Luke became more restless. 
 He laboured hard, earned the fool's name from his 
 fellow-slaves for his duteous earnestness; but he 
 found no surcease from despair. 
 
 Circumstances grew worse and worse. Cowar- 
 dice, cruelty, selfishness, brutishness, threw 
 shadows over every hour of the living day. Ulf 
 alone brought sweetness to him. Alys Alys ! 
 
 Winter had gone. The month of the cuckoo 
 had come. The flower-world wakened; the 
 young leaves called to him, bidding him in the 
 name of Nature, to fly from bondage and regain 
 the lost freedom. 
 
 What was the use of that futile life? Better 
 rejoice and die in the open world his requiem 
 sung by the winds that know no masters, than 
 endure the doom of worthless servitude. 
 
 Luke told Ulf he must escape and go. The 
 jester knew in his heart that the hours of farewell 
 were near; but, dreading worse possibilities of the 
 future, and hoping for an amelioration of condi- 
 tions, he implored him to endure and stay. 
 215
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 So Luke, for love of Ulf, remained and strove 
 bravely. He was not helped by seeing Alys a 
 wanton; but he hid his love, and served the 
 pettily tyrannical retainers patiently. 
 
 He was one morning working ostler in the 
 courtyard, grooming a palfrey for that daughter of 
 Rudolph whom Berlyn was soon to marry, when 
 he heard shuffling of footsteps behind him. 
 
 His heart's blood ran cold. He peered round 
 anxiously. His fears were true; his ears had 
 heard rightly. It was a monk from St. Dunstan's 
 Monastery. 
 
 The man of God was advancing towards Luke 
 for information, when he stopped abruptly and 
 stared with stony eyes. He had recognised the 
 excommunicated swineherd. Malediction was 
 frozen on his face. He said not a word, but spat 
 on the ground and hastened from the courtyard 
 and castle. 
 
 Luke's thoughts and emotions were whirling 
 and excited. Some retainers and serfs who had 
 been busy with their cleaning, gathered curiously 
 about him. Their looks were not unkind. One 
 of them a burly fellow, in a torn jerkin called 
 to him: 
 
 " Father Bald-head blessed you with his holy 
 water why? " 
 
 Luke looked up flushed. He tried to speak, but 
 216
 
 Recognition 
 
 could say nothing. There was ominous dread in 
 his heart. Why could not he be left in peace ? 
 
 On the next day there was a mission of monks 
 to the Earl. Luke did not see them come or go ; 
 but half-heard gossip told him of their visit, and 
 that he was the occasion of their call. He learnt, 
 not with a great deal of comfort, that the Earl had 
 sent the shavelings away " with flies in their ears." 
 
 This encounter with the monks had on Luke 
 one curious indirect effect. It roused in his mind 
 a vivid yearning for some of the associations of 
 the old life; and, added to the present call of the 
 Spring, made him very restless. He came to pine 
 for freedom. He was as a caged soul. He must 
 get out, he must get out; again to be with Nature 
 in her temple of trees. 
 
 He determined to go that night. He whispered 
 his need to Ulf, who quickly cognisant of its 
 urgency, promised privily to help him, on condi- 
 tion that he returned before sunrise on the morrow. 
 
 So, that night, after his late labour was done, 
 Luke, screened by the anxious jester, walked over 
 the lowered drawbridge, past a wine-bribed chief- 
 warder. After a little while Ulf crept back alone. 
 
 In the excitement of renewed liberty, weariness 
 and heartache were forgotten. Luke breathed 
 deep breaths and exulted. He was free as the 
 
 wind once more; and as though his feet were 
 217
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 helped by ^Eolus, sped over the grass, towards 
 old haunts and places of hallowed memories. His 
 heart sang loud laudation! 
 
 How fresh the night seemed, and sweet with 
 the scent of violets. In the worship of gratitude 
 to the God who governs, he raised his arms to the 
 dark sky; then again ran on with eager feet. 
 
 Mist gathered and drizzle fell. The grand 
 smell of the earth greeted his nostrils and gave 
 him gladness. He threw himself prone, to realise 
 more and more his nearness to Mother Nature. 
 He was as a free spirit of the wild wood. 
 
 He entered the avenues where years before 
 Kelp and he had tended the pigs where he 
 had met little girl Alys, argued with Ulf, asked 
 help from Hilary, and first crept after Truth the 
 mystery. 
 
 It was too dark for Luke to see, but his feet 
 were familiar with the way, and he could greet 
 with recognising fingers, trees and bushes old 
 comrades. 
 
 Ghosts of dead memories crept about him. 
 
 He visited the once-familiar haunts, avoiding 
 only that thicket where in boyhood's dream-days 
 he had throned the idealised Alys. 
 
 Lightness of heart left him as quietly as a 
 shadow. He approached the monastery. Slowly 
 
 he crept along the well-remembered way. His 
 218
 
 Recognition 
 
 heart knew the pain of tears; it seemed as if 
 nothing there was changed. The very ruts in the 
 road seemed just as he had left them. He paused 
 by the long barn his birthplace and, with tears 
 in his eyes and sorrow in his heart, listened to the 
 breathing and moving of the swine. He longed 
 to open the door and enter, but dared not. 
 
 He crept across the meadow towards the chapel. 
 Lights gleamed through the eastern window. He 
 hoped, even then, to hear monks chanting ; but it 
 was long after compline, and the monastery slept. 
 
 He came to the hut where he and Mause had 
 dwelt. Was she there still? He touched the 
 door with caressing fingers ; and, remembering 
 her love, prayed in his heart for her and blessed 
 her. He hungered to be with her, to give her 
 son's love once more; but the memory of the 
 last dark scene was bolt-and-bar against the 
 fulfilment of his intentions. He crept away very 
 quietly. That was his last farewell to the 
 monastery of the Holy St. Dunstan. 
 
 As he went, his heart lightened. He became 
 hopeful, even glad again. Once more he was 
 buoyant with the living joy of liberty reaction 
 from those heavy months of imprisonment and 
 grey despair. He was the old true Luke once 
 more. He ran in the sheer joy of life but where 
 
 to should he run? ... To the cottage where 
 219
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Lilith had dwelt! Memory of her gave life to 
 the old problems. He relapsed into walking, and 
 thought. 
 
 His mind was then like his body free. The 
 castle walls had imprisoned him more than he 
 knew. He remembered with renewed force the 
 old difficulties, the old ideals, the old hopes. The 
 visit to the monastery had revived his true self 
 and released him. 
 
 He reached the lake. The drizzle had ceased. 
 Slowly the mist had lifted and dispersed. Faintly 
 through the clouds the moon shone. Luke could 
 see dimly the water and the white cottage with 
 fir-trees surrounding it. He went to the hillock, 
 where, on the eve of his excommunication, he 
 had seen a vision. There he sat and, sitting, 
 remembered the dream. It came to him at a 
 flash. In his mind he saw again angels and 
 heard their call to him. 
 
 What was the name by which they had called 
 him ? He tried to recollect. He had heard it not 
 once, but many times: yet had always forgotten 
 it, had never been able to recall it. This was the 
 first time he had remembered the fact of the 
 mystic name. But, what was that name ? 
 
 Peruel! 
 
 He heard it he did not remember it he heard 
 it uttered by a most sweet voice. 
 
 220
 
 Recognition 
 
 His blood ran cold, then hot with strange 
 happiness. He was getting a glimpse of the 
 truth. Revelation recognition came at once. 
 He knew himself now as the angels knew him. 
 He was for that little while not Luke swineherd, 
 outcast, serf; but Peruel Peruel! That name 
 linked him with the spirit-world. 
 
 Peruel! 
 
 Again he heard the voice. 
 
 " I am here! " he answered, rising, and looked 
 upwards. He was one of a heavenly company. 
 Wondrous, glorious presences surrounded him; 
 love shone in their faces, harps and lutes uttered 
 harmonies, a melody of holiness breathed from 
 their lips, blessings lived in their eyes. Luke 
 was transfigured. He trembled with awe and 
 happiness. 
 
 " O God, O God! " he cried in rapture, his heart 
 all worship. " O God, O God ! " 
 
 He gazed entranced, and wondered. 
 
 Then, in a spell wrought by the music and 
 brightness, he knelt, hid his face in his hands, 
 and wept. 
 
 " Peruel, are you penitent? " asked a voice. 
 
 " I am penitent," Luke's lips answered earnestly. 
 
 " Not yet ! Not yet ! " came an appeal from far 
 behind him. "Not yet! Not yet!" said the 
 
 angels; " His pilgrimage is not yet done! " 
 221
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Luke listened to these mysteries, awed, lost in 
 the greatness. 
 
 He ventured to gaze upward again. Here was 
 the Truth. All this was true, beautiful and 
 true. 
 
 The princes of the spirit -world remained there, 
 radiant, glorifying the night with high harmonies, 
 covering the worlds with canopies of praise. 
 
 Luke's face reflected their radiance. Men who 
 knew him would not then have known him. His 
 eyes shone angelically. The wonted ugliness and 
 heaviness of his face were gone. He was, indeed, 
 transfigured. The angels recognised him as one 
 with themselves. Peruel! Peruel! Now he feared 
 not, heeded not, the voice which had answered 
 from the darkness. 
 
 In that hour he was conscious of his spiritual 
 self; aware, though but dimly, that once in ages 
 long agone, he had been of the angelic company. 
 Rapture renewed in him. Entranced, inspired, in 
 ecstasy, he contemplated, with awed eyes and 
 mind, that gathering of celestial glories. 
 
 Slowly the vision vanished. The music dimi- 
 nished. The angels were gone. 
 
 Luke knew now; never again would he forget 
 the syllables and significance of his spiritual name. 
 In the eyes of men he might be swineherd, serf, 
 clown. In the eyes of the angels he was Peruel ! 
 
 222
 
 Recognition 
 
 With the passing of the vision, dawn had come, 
 and Luke returned reluctantly to the castle. 
 
 When he arrived there Ulf was watching for and 
 awaiting him. The drawbridge, damp with dew, 
 was quietly lowered. A yawning sentinel winked 
 at Ulf, as Luke crept by. He saw the jester 
 welcome the scullion, but, sleepily, did not descry 
 the glow in the face of Luke. 
 
 Ulf was relieved in mind at having his comrade 
 back; but, more observant than the man of guard, 
 he saw something had happened. There was a 
 new light, exaltation, rapture, in Luke's face. 
 " What is the cause of it ? "he asked. 
 
 " I must tell you," Luke answered, almost 
 beyond power of words with excitement and happi- 
 ness. " I have seen a vision most wonderful and 
 mysterious! " 
 
 " A vision! " Ulf grunted. He was perhaps a 
 little 'cross through his long vigil. " Oh, leave 
 that sort of thing to the underfed. I'd rather 
 have a genuine new joke any day! " 
 
 They climbed to their haven in the turret. 
 Luke was burning to tell his story. 
 
 The wearied jester threw himself gratefully on 
 the straw bed, but Luke remained standing. 
 
 "Now, dreamer, for the dream!" said Ulf, 
 watching the exultation wild in his companion's 
 eyes. 
 
 Z23
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Luke whispered of his night's experience. He 
 explained how, time and again, in his life he had 
 been called by the strange name, Peruel; but, 
 until the night of the vision, had never realised 
 its peculiar significance. By that name, heaven 
 knew him. It was his angel-name. In glowing 
 words, with joyous excitement, he told the jester 
 the tale of revelation. 
 
 Ulf listened with gathered brows, as, with keen 
 eyes, he studied the narrator's face. For the first 
 time in their friendship, he misunderstood. When 
 Luke had ended, Ulf gave expression to in- 
 credulity. 
 
 "You dreamed, Luke. You dreamed it! 
 Visions are imaginings, fancies, which come to un- 
 healthy, solitary people ! But you did well in one 
 thing it is better to dream of angels than of 
 fiends! Tell no one this, Luke, I charge you. 
 If you do, they will deem you mad. Only 
 emaciated priests and lady saints, half-fed and 
 sleepless, have visions. As for Peruel Peruel! 
 Where is the mystery of that? Fish! " 
 
 Ulf was abrupt, incredulous, tired, contemptu- 
 ous, hard, and angry. Luke was pained by his 
 frank incredulity. But words could not heal the 
 soreness. 
 
 The new day had come; he went to his work 
 
 without further ado. He knew the vision was 
 224
 
 Recognition 
 
 true, that through it he was brought nearer to the 
 long-sought Truth. How could he expect others, 
 who had only his bare word, to see with his eyes 
 and know with his mind and heart ? The vision 
 was for him only. Even Ulf must be blind to its 
 significance and actuality. It was for him alone. 
 
 As he hurried down the winding stairway he 
 made determinings. 
 
 " I will be worthy," he vowed. '* I will be 
 worthy." 
 
 225
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE TRIAL OF CHIVALRY 
 
 THERE followed revulsion. As if to punish him 
 for that glimpse of reality, Luke was, during the 
 succeeding days, harassed with a tumult of tortur- 
 ing thoughts. In the daytime men misused him. 
 When he had peace from them, his mind was 
 racked with doubts and fears the fruits of evil 
 suggestions from hidden enemies. 
 
 He became for a time despondent. Life had 
 become to him so heavy and so grey. He was 
 reft of much confidence in his fellow-men and 
 himself, when he contemplated the meanness, vice, 
 cruelty, which daily he was witness of. Ah ! how 
 far were they fallen from the ideals! And yet, 
 Ulf had endured that life during many years! 
 He pondered on the mystery, perplexed, until he 
 realised the helplessness of the unfriended man 
 in those feudal days. Himself was an example. 
 There were very few if there were any who 
 could endure except by eating the sour bread of 
 
 patronage. 
 
 226
 
 The Trial of Chivalry 
 
 The utter hopelessness of his environment 
 roused him at length to moral action. He was 
 determined to end or mend the weakening mis- 
 chief; and Ulf's blind judgment about the vision 
 made Luke desperate. Come what might, he 
 would not again see shame given and wrong done 
 without protest. He realised that even his 
 weak hands held a duty to his comrades, the 
 poor, and himself. 
 
 After thought and sorrow he came to this 
 decision. There was shame in the passive en- 
 durance of evil done. He would protest. That 
 should be the beginning of his true knightly 
 crusade. He would fight, and, if need be, suffer 
 against wrong. 
 
 Ulf would oppose this decision; but now he was 
 stronger, even wiser than Ulf. His eyes had been 
 opened. 
 
 That was the time and opportunity for a 
 Quixote. The castle of Earl Rudolph was no 
 worse, no better, than every other court of those 
 iron and careless days. Good and bad, as in the 
 monastery, were there commingled. The great 
 and petty vices of a spoiled time were there 
 enclosed; and platitudes and shibboleths, which 
 had forgotten their own virtues, were the sole 
 force wherewith to combat them. It was fighting 
 
 giants with shadows. 
 
 227
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 So Luke gave himself deliberately to the service 
 of quixotism, knowing well his weakness, and 
 being equally aware of the sacrifice he would have 
 to make. A fool? Of course, he was a fool, but 
 it is the fools with divine folly who are the ruined 
 fore-runners of progress. Over their foolish 
 bodies, crushed, marches the Future! 
 
 The preparations for Berlyn's marriage now 
 went on apace, and Alys wasted herself. She 
 had become desperate, was shameless in her love- 
 madness. The unclean gossips chattered and 
 smirked. The folk of the castle watched her 
 jealousy, her wantonness, her poor efforts at any 
 cost to win for permanence a weak and wavering 
 fancy; and in their spite and narrow envy, they 
 smiled. 
 
 Once more the worthless triumphed, and the 
 popinjay was victor. Berlyn, pleased and flat- 
 tered by her wild and foolish homage, enjoyed 
 and despised the love she offered, forgetting the 
 sacrifice she made. How the Earl's daughter, his 
 betrothed, regarded the sacrifice, need not be 
 written. There is a shame which must be suffered 
 in secret. Berlyn's bride knew it then and after- 
 wards. On the day appointed, she was wedded 
 to Berlyn. 
 
 Alys, clad in white and carrying flowers, being 
 
 one of the bride's ladies, watched her lover married, 
 228
 
 The Trial of Chivalry 
 
 while anger tightened her pale lips. Friends and 
 cronies watched Alys. 
 
 That evening Luke actively began his play of 
 quixotism. He had, so far as possible, weighed 
 every aspect and consequence of his determined 
 conduct, with all the optimism necessary to rash- 
 ness. 
 
 Young Quixote was asking for a miracle. Fully 
 aware of the risk he ran death might easily be 
 the end of it he was willing for what he believed 
 was duty sake to run that risk, and characteristic- 
 ally came to believe he might be successful. 
 
 But with all his hopes and optimism, he dared 
 not confide in Ulf. For the first time in that 
 history of a friendship, there was a rift in the 
 mutual confidence. 
 
 There was among Luke's brethren-in-toil a half- 
 witted, heavy fellow, whose clumsiness made his 
 willingness especially embarrassing. 
 
 This man of futile hands was serving a retainer 
 who wolfed his food. Luke had long known that 
 boor-master, Wallon, as a mean bully, among the 
 worst of a bad crowd. The server, in his undue 
 willingness, happened to spill liquid on Wallon's 
 sleeve; the mischief was trivial, but there it was! 
 The bully stared at his sleeve, then at the trem- 
 bling servant. He swore an oath of many colours, 
 
 and rising, hit the fellow a blow deliberately, full 
 229
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 on the eyes. He fell sprawling, faint and bleeding. 
 
 Luke's opportunity! The occasion for action 
 had come! His heart was hot with the detesta- 
 tion of cruelty. He ran forward ; stared full into 
 the heavy face of the bully, and cried: 
 
 "Coward! Coward!" 
 
 His voice rang challenge through the hall. 
 Every one heard it. The Earl, too, checking his 
 laughter, which Ulf's humour had roused, rose and 
 watched the commotion. The jester, recognising 
 Luke as the centre of the turmoil, sprang from his 
 perch before the chief table and ran to help his 
 friend. There was hush, with investigation; then 
 clamour of tongues. Words of anger, ridicule, 
 enquiry, combined with some laughter, swelled the 
 confusion. 
 
 Wallon was mazed by Luke's daring. He stood 
 staring, bewildered ; till a comrade opposite, whose 
 wits were less sluggish, bellowed out a reminder 
 of the insult. 
 
 Then he acted. He stepped hurriedly over the 
 bench on which he had been sitting, and rushed, 
 with fists clenched, to hurl himself on Luke. 
 Then the unexpected happened Luke met him, 
 not in the spirit of the martyr, but in the spirit 
 of the man. He knew he could not get chivalry 
 or f airplay from that opponent; so he sprang 
 
 and hit. 
 
 230
 
 The Trial of Chivalry 
 
 The bully received the blow and staggered, 
 waving his arms wildly to retain his balance. 
 
 There was the swish of knives and daggers 
 drawn; an angry, ominous muttering. Luke 
 had played the Quixote called for his miracle 
 found a deluge. 
 
 One behind him struck his arm, driving him 
 forward. He was hustled, and attacked by many. 
 
 " I claim true fighting fair dealing! " he cried. 
 
 " Fair dealing and fair play! " was echoed by 
 one voice Ulf's. 
 
 The appeals were made in vain. A metal 
 winecup, wielded by a sure hand, struck Luke 
 heavily behind the ear, and felled him, stunned. 
 Angry men rose about him. Wallon kicked the 
 prone body. 
 
 " Fair play! Give him fair play! " cried Ulf. 
 He threw himself on his friend, pleading for, 
 protecting him. 
 
 " Fair play! " Wallon answered, his little red 
 eyes blinking wickedly. " This is the fair play he 
 will get," and again he kicked the prostrate body. 
 Ulf thereupon clutched the bully's knee, and 
 pointed to a brimming winecup. Wallon forth- 
 with drowned his present wrath; while Ulf, his 
 eyes fiery in a pale face, lifted Luke, and carried 
 him toilfully out. No one challenged the passing 
 
 of the fool and his burden. 
 231
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 The Earl called to Ulf; but Ulf did not hear 
 or heed, and unprevented, went; bearing Luke, 
 with the assistance of his old friend, the com- 
 plaisant and bribable man-of-the-guard, up the 
 winding stairway to his turret room, and placed 
 him, still aswoon, on the straw bed. 
 
 Ulf found himself saying something suspiciously 
 like a prayer. With hurrying, tactful hands he 
 tended Luke until he revived. The look of love 
 which lived in the awaking eyes was full reward 
 for all his effort and affection. 
 
 " Luke, Luke, must you make this madness? " 
 he pleaded during the subsequent period of con- 
 fidence. 
 
 In those sacred minutes the recent misgivings 
 were confessed away. 
 
 " I shall always trust always love you, Ulf! " 
 was the end of Luke's answer. 
 
 The next day he worked as usual, but the world 
 was changed for the worse. The old persecution 
 had been with whips ; now it was with scorpions 
 the advisers of Rehoboam prevailed. Every man 
 seemed his enemy, active to hurt him. It was 
 impossible for the scapegoat to do right. His 
 masters' minds were biassed, and their hands 
 heavy. Not the least malicious of his persecutors 
 were his petty equals, his work-fellows, whose 
 
 misfortunes he had hoped to help. 
 232
 
 The Trial of Chivalry 
 
 The martyrs had some consolation in their pain; 
 they had at least the comfort of exaltation, while 
 suffering their ways through shame to glory, 
 Luke only knew, what all but Ulf were pleased 
 continually to tell him, that he had been the 
 silliest of fools, and had, out of this nettle danger, 
 plucked nothing not even the gratitude of the 
 one he had championed. That clod openly 
 flouted him, siding with the masterly majority. 
 
 The retainers were, of course, Luke's worst 
 enemies. He had threatened their especial privi- 
 leges. It was less by positive violence than by 
 a continuous series of petty insults and wearing 
 harassing tasks that they tried his spirit. From 
 dawn almost till dawn returned, he was on his 
 feet, being and doing, so haunted by wrong and 
 over-work that even in sleep, having troublesome 
 dreams, he could not rest. Mind, body, and soul 
 underwent a sustained and exhausting trial. 
 
 Luke, passionately endeavouring to keep pa- 
 tience, endured without word of complaint. He 
 had struck for his work-fellow. He never struck 
 blow for himself. Pluck and the passion for duty 
 kept him from failing. He was nerved and 
 strengthened by what dreams could still come, 
 and by his simple pride. He saw himself as a 
 white knight, striving for the cause of the wronged 
 and the weak. These troubles he accepted as an 
 233 na
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 ordeal to test his strength of will. He would 
 endure he would endure till death! That was 
 his heart's vow. 
 
 The Earl appeared indifferent to Luke's out- 
 break, but he was not so. When first he heard 
 its details, he commanded a summary flogging 
 he would brook no rebellion against his men-at- 
 arms; but on this occasion, Ulf was able to use 
 his powers of persuasion over Rudolph. His j ests, 
 japee, fool-verses, and cunning wit hid some real 
 influence. Intellectually, he was more than a 
 match for any of Luke's enemies. Even the 
 Earl had sometimes occasion to dread the ironies 
 of his tongue. Ulf, by a witty appeal, saved his 
 comrade on this occasion. 
 
 The fatal finale came on a day when Rudolph 
 was exercising his notions of " justice " in the 
 hall, the retainers, armed and accoutred, ranged 
 about him. 
 
 A woman had come to claim redress from one 
 of the Earl's company. Her husband, a woodman, 
 while working in the forest, had been set upon, 
 mishandled, and so severely maltreated that his 
 life was despaired of. Want and care had thereby 
 invaded a simple home. 
 
 The human cause of this evil was Wallon. 
 
 Luke, passing the portal, carrying tressles, 
 
 looked into the hall and recognised the woman. 
 234
 
 The Trial of Chivalry 
 
 It was she of the flower-covered cottage, who, 
 seeing his need, had fed him on the day of his 
 dismissal from St. Dunstan's. 
 
 Luke bore his burden to the place appointed, 
 and then ran back to the hall, entering and 
 standing behind the retainers. He was, before 
 the woman said a word, her champion and 
 advocate. 
 
 He fell to studying complainant and offender, 
 comparing them. She, evidently work-worn and 
 care-weary, but open, gentle, kind, her heart 
 softened and sweetened by life's small joys and 
 burdens. Then, her opponent, Wallon, who 
 tried, while the woman arraigned him, to look 
 like injured innocence. 
 
 The woman had told her tale. Many hearts 
 there should have been moved by it . Emboldened 
 by the wrong done, inspired by the needs of her 
 husband and children, she had pleaded as simpli- 
 city inspired. 
 
 Luke listened, touched and pitiful. 
 
 That was, to him, the trial-hour of Argovian 
 chivalry. 
 
 He felt his sleeve pulled sharply, and looked 
 eagerly behind him. It was Ulf. 
 
 " This is no place for you, Luke," was whispered. 
 " Go, I entreat you. If you stay, it may be 
 dangerous." 
 
 235
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 " Dangerous? I do not understand." 
 
 "Ah, but I do. You will hear things and see 
 things which will wring your heart. You in 
 your own way will flash out; and then where 
 is my friend and your shelter? " 
 
 " I must stay, Ulf! She helped me in my need. 
 That woman helped me ! She has been grievously 
 wronged. She must have redress and justice. 
 Let me stay. I have faith in the Earl." 
 
 "No, Luke, I pray you earnestly, go! You 
 cannot help in any way. Go! Go!" 
 
 The youth looked in sharp enquiry at Ulf. 
 He noted his earnestness, valued the love which 
 prompted the pleading, but that woman needed a 
 friend and champion. She had helped him. He 
 must help her. Was not that knighthood's 
 duty? 
 
 " I must stay," he whispered. 
 
 Anxiety troubled the jester's eyes. He shook 
 his head, sighed sadly, and crept away. Shortly 
 after, Luke saw him, in the fool's way, sitting 
 cross-legged on a stool near Rudolph's feet, 
 nursing his bauble. 
 
 Then Wallon told his story. A murmur of 
 encouraging applause went round ; which warned 
 Luke ominously that before one of his words were 
 spoken, the men of that court were in prejudiced 
 
 sympathy with the malefactor. 
 236
 
 The Trial of Chivalry 
 
 " Lord Earl," he cried in a powerful voice, " the 
 woman is bewitched! I saw a woodman in the 
 forest and besought him fairly " 
 
 " What did you say? " asked Rudolph. 
 
 " I said : 'I'll trouble you for a drink from your 
 flask, knave/ and the churl answered: ' My flask 
 is drier than you,' and flouted me by turning the 
 bottle spout downwards, showing me there was 
 not even a drip of drink inside it, and laughed; 
 so what could I do? I called him an impudent 
 hind, cuffed him on the side of the head, and 
 because I was wearing an iron gauntlet, the foul 
 fellow and he didn't want another taste of it he 
 stayed on the ground. So I took away his axe to 
 punish him, and threw it in a thicket. Now this 
 old wench comes bleating, and pretends I knocked 
 him silly. I, with one small clout, to do that! 
 It's a fool fable. The fellow's head was thick, a 
 hammer could not have cracked it. He hurt my 
 hand, Lord Earl, the woman lies, and there is an 
 end of it." 
 
 Here was the opportunity for the justice 
 of chivalry. Luke's keen eyes were fastened 
 on the Earl's face. What would Rudolph do? 
 There was silence for a brief, appreciable time. 
 Moments slow-moving passed. 
 
 " You have no witnesses to support your story, 
 woman," the Earl said at last. " I know Wallon 
 2 37
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 as a gentle soldier " there was some quiet 
 laughter in the background here. 
 
 Luke could endure the uncertainty no longer. 
 He pushed between those in front of him, knelt on 
 one knee, and raised a hand in appeal. 
 
 " Justice, Lord Earl ! Justice for this woman ! ' ' 
 
 " Out, cub! " cried Wallon wrathfully. 
 
 " Justice, Lord Earl! The man was cruel he 
 confessed it out of his own mouth." 
 
 " Out ! " said the Earl curtly, frowning heavily 
 at Luke. 
 
 The woman now knelt beside Luke and 
 appealed. 
 
 " I pray you for justice against this cruel man, 
 Lord Earl! I have told my tale truly. He has 
 told his. I have not lied." 
 
 Earl Rudolph rose in anger, raised a hand 
 commanding silence, and delivered judgment. 
 Luke remained kneeling, his arms raised in 
 appeal. 
 
 " Woman, it is your word against Wallon's. 
 You have no witnesses. You did not see the blow 
 struck. Wallon, my man, says your husband 
 provoked it. I take Wallon's word. You have 
 no ground for redress. You can go!" 
 
 Luke rose. 
 
 " Lord Earl, is that chivalry ? " he cried. " She 
 
 came here for justice. Let her have justice! " 
 238
 
 The Trial of Chivalry 
 
 Rudolph glared at the daring scullion. If 
 glances could kill, Luke would have withered 
 then. 
 
 " Wallon, take that fellow to the gatehouse, 
 and flog him. This must be the last of his 
 mutinies." 
 
 There was a howl of happy indignation from 
 the assembly. Luke's punishment was very 
 popular. 
 
 Only one strove on Luke's behalf, and that, of 
 course, was Ulf. He suddenly dropped the merry 
 man attitude, and kneeling before the Earl, 
 pleaded with all his powers on behalf of his 
 mistaken friend. 
 
 Rudolph was, however, too deeply stirred and 
 angry now. The first outbreak was bad enough, 
 delivered against the retainers. This second out- 
 break was worse, being delivered against himself 
 and his own authority. The affair had passed the 
 bounds of tolerance. He ignored Ulf; and then, 
 finding his jester desperately persistent, flamed 
 with anger and hurled him violently backward, 
 sending him sprawling among the dogs. 
 
 Ulf picked himself up, and still clasping the 
 shaft of his bauble, shattered by the fall, limped 
 hastily after the crowd who hustled Luke to the 
 gateway, determined yet to do what he might for 
 the help of his friend. 
 
 239
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 The sight of the jester limping was so comical, 
 that the Earl and his immediate cronies were 
 restored to laughter by it. 
 
 The woman was forgotten by all, except 
 Luke. 
 
 240
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 ULF SAYS BENEDICITE 
 
 LUKE was helpless in the hands of enemies, Ulf 
 powerless to save him. He was dragged and 
 hustled to the gate, his tunic stripped from him, 
 his hands fastened with thongs to an iron ring in 
 the wall, and he flogged with whips, till his back 
 was red and black with blood and bruises. He 
 fell to the ground unconscious dead for the time 
 being to his pain and shame. 
 
 Then, their purpose well effected, the heroes 
 returned to their labours and pastimes, gladdened 
 arid gratified by the sense of a pleasurable duty 
 done. 
 
 Ulf was in a quandary what to do with Luke. 
 To carry him at once into the castle would be 
 futile and dangerous an invitation to repeated 
 cruelty; so the day being dry and warm, he 
 persuaded two men of the guard old cronies who 
 admired his merits to bear Luke still in a 
 swoon, the poor flesh all quivering into the shade 
 
 of an oak-tree, some two hundred yards away. 
 241
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Then, running eagerly, he fetched from the 
 buttery, linen and water for the wounds, and wine. 
 
 Very tenderly, deep pity in his heart, the jester 
 soothed and restored his friend. His mind could 
 not appreciate the wisdom of Luke's course, but 
 his heart's love brought full excuse and justifica- 
 tion for him. He had long ago realised Luke's 
 selflessness and exaltation of character. He would 
 not now judge, blame, or desert him. 
 
 It was long before Luke regained consciousness. 
 The waking was itself a severe punishment. His 
 body ached, throbbed, smarted, burnt with pain; 
 yet all that physical misery was less, far less, to 
 him than the bitter knowledge of confidence 
 deceived, of hopes and ideals blasted. The manli- 
 ness and chivalry of those Earl's men were arrant 
 frauds, pretence, cowardice. As for Rudolph's 
 justice Justice ! 
 
 It was some time a long time before he could 
 speak. He lay there mute, watching with red 
 eyes the jester's face, reading the comfort of love 
 in that faithful countenance. When he found 
 speech, it was to say: 
 
 " Where is the poor woman? We must help 
 her, Ulf." 
 
 Luke's words found answer to a question Ulf's 
 brain had been all the while asking. 
 
 " Truly, we will help her, Luke. She must 
 242
 
 Ulf Says Benedicite 
 
 have departed home. I will find the house, take 
 you to where she lives, and she shall nurse you 
 till you are recovered; meanwhile, we can think 
 what else to do. I will give her food for you, and 
 make it my duty to provide for her till her good- 
 man is on his feet and using his hands again. 
 But now Luke, you must rest. Drink this; try 
 to sleep. You must stay here. The castle is 
 better closed to you. I will come back after 
 nightfall; for now, I must go." 
 
 The jester having bathed and bandaged Luke, 
 and wrapped him in a horse-blanket and warm 
 garment, left him in the quietude to sleep, while 
 he returned to carry through, with most heavy 
 heart, his fool-duties. 
 
 Rudolph and the retainers that day and evening 
 laughed often and loudly at his fancies and 
 phrases. Their spirits were high. They took his 
 witticisms generously, reflected his humours gaily, 
 never for a moment in their thick witlessness 
 dreaming of the pain and anxiety that haunted 
 him. Poor Ulf! In all his weary life, full as it 
 was of disappointment and fictitious merriment, 
 he never knew a worse hour than that, when out 
 of a tired mind he made sport for the miscreants 
 who had wronged, wounded, stolen from him, his 
 friend. But sometimes he threw them barbs 
 within the laughter. 
 
 243
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 In the darkness he went again from the castle 
 bearing clothes for Luke, a satchel containing food, 
 and a little money, a sword, and a staff. 
 
 He found his comrade asleep; so he waited till 
 he woke, a full hour later. 
 
 Luke's pain was very great. The after-aching 
 was worse than the actual flogging he had most 
 of the first agony with the addition of pulsing fire 
 and the pain of ashamed remembrance. It was 
 impossible for him either to stay alone among the 
 trees, or that night to re-enter the castle. He 
 must find shelter elsewhere, in the cottage of the 
 woman he had failed to help. 
 
 Then new difficulties awoke. Luke was too sore 
 and weak to walk; the cottage was distant some 
 three hours' march; there was during the night- 
 time no means of conveyance, horse or cart, to 
 be obtained. So Ulf did the only thing possible. 
 He enwrapped Luke warmly and watched beside 
 him. Not till the stars had paled and dawn broke, 
 and the castle was again astir lights shining 
 through the grey dawning did he leave his 
 friend. He fetched more food and comforts, and 
 by persuasion and flattery managed to borrow 
 from Spen-of-the-stables a mule. Then, for the 
 first time in his servitude to laughter, he braved 
 the Earl's anger, and taking his own leave, went 
 
 wandering. 
 
 244
 
 Ulf Says Benedicite 
 
 Before the sun rose, Luke was riding south, Ulf 
 at the rein. Although a sword was girded at his 
 waist and money was in his pouch, the departing 
 serving-man felt in no knightly mood. He had all 
 the depression of shameful defeat. 
 
 There was little converse between the friends 
 during that toilsome journey. Both were glad 
 when it was ended. The heart of each was 
 weighed with evil omen. 
 
 Luke was welcomed with the expected kindness. 
 Ulf, after settling all the arrangements, left him 
 in the good woman's kindly care; and then, 
 mounting the mule, hurried back to the castle 
 at as bold a trot as unaccustomed equestrianism 
 permitted. 
 
 Days passed, days of rest, kindness, and pleasant 
 care the happiest of Luke's life. He soon 
 mended. For the first time he found friends and 
 playmates in children. Their young delight 
 helped him to laugh again. It was medicine to 
 his spirits and strengthened his hopefulness. 
 But he could not stay in that oasis of humanity 
 for ever. As soon as he was properly hale, he was 
 eager to be out in the world, to seek Truth, to do 
 right, to right wrong, with his good arm to win 
 bread and honour. 
 
 Ulf paid him brief visits nearly every day. It 
 was one more fine effort of duty on the jester's 
 245
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 part; only the noblest order of friendship could 
 have made the accomplishment possible. By 
 riding through the early-morning darkness he was 
 with Luke at dawn ; and through for him most 
 daring feats of horsemanship, could be back at 
 the castle in time to mend the morning leisure 
 of his lord. 
 
 Ulf proved himself in those dreary days, even 
 more than before, a man of self-sacrifice. He 
 knew, as Luke knew, that the time of rest and 
 peace must end. He felt, as Luke felt, that its 
 termination might also mean the severance of the 
 ties of their companionship; but Ulf had indeed 
 as great an idea of duty as Luke had; so, hiding 
 his feeling, he neither said nor did anything that 
 could weaken his friend's determination to go into 
 the world, and win or lose along the noble way. 
 
 The last day had come. Ulf had given himself 
 leave to make it a whole holiday. He would 
 dedicate all its hours to Luke. They sat and 
 wandered in the wood, as in the old time, con- 
 versing. On the morrow, in the early hours, 
 Luke better armed with experience now than 
 before was to begin a new struggle with fortune, 
 renewed search after Truth. 
 
 Never a happier day had blessed their long 
 
 comradeship than that one of confidence and 
 246
 
 Ulf Says Benedicite 
 
 farewell. Its happiness was bitter-sweet it was 
 happiness blent with pain ; yet there was so much 
 hope about the parting that each looked back 
 upon it with happiness in remembrance. 
 
 All the old problems were lovingly debated, 
 ideals and dreams revived and re-glorified, higher 
 duties determined upon. Luke was called on to 
 play the man : he meant to do so or die. 
 
 The long day passed to its end. The warm sun, 
 having climbed the heavens, had returned to its 
 orange-golden glory in the west. The time of 
 good-bye inevitable had come. 
 
 There were many words still unuttered; and 
 but little heart for their saying. The two sat, 
 eloquent with silence. 
 
 Evening merged into night. The birds ceased 
 their twittering. An cwl flew magnificently over- 
 head. A glow-worm gleamed at their feet. The 
 murmur of trees was about them. Then, at last, 
 Ulf found speech. 
 
 " You will fare forth bravely, Luke; and, in 
 misery as in fortune, be true knight. If you fail 
 and need friendship, come back to the castle. 
 While I live you will find me there. Remember 
 this, on no day will the sun have sunk without my 
 having had you lovingly in remembrance till I 
 am dead." 
 
 " And by the same token, Ulf, I will remember 
 247
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 you, my ever-true friend. But why the word 
 faH? Do you think I shall fail? If so, Ulf, I 
 must die: for I could not return to the castle, a 
 slave to Wallon and those others. I will come 
 back a knight with golden spurs or not at all." 
 
 " May you win them, Lucas, son of Kelp ! No 
 one will rejoice more to see you, however you 
 come, than one grey fool you have known. I said 
 fail because because this is so rotten a world. 
 So rotten a world it is, that I could with an easy 
 heart say Live your little life your own way, and 
 let the world rot unhelped ; for does it ever reward 
 its champions except with ingratitude? I am 
 tired to death of it! Wherever there are men, 
 there is rascality stealing honours which should 
 crown nobler brows. Fools stay in the high 
 places. Honesty knows the smell of the dust. 
 Your true knight in this tawdry world when you 
 can find him eats his heart out; while the 
 puppet, the bigot, the hypocrite, the sniveller, the 
 time-server, the liar, the fool, the coward, win. 
 Ah! it is rotten, rotten! God may have made 
 the world; but why has He let men so mar and 
 unmake it? " 
 
 There was silence for a while. Some will 
 recognise exaggeration, prejudice, error, in Ulf's 
 words; but he spoke from out of an honest heart. 
 
 Then again: 
 
 248
 
 Ulf Says Benedicite 
 
 " You have chosen hard knighthood, Luke. 
 Be true knight! " 
 
 " I will try to be true knight, Ulf; I will try 
 to win." 
 
 " Ah, Luke, do so," cried Ulf heartily. " I wish 
 I could be with you to help you, to be your squire, 
 to comfort you when the disappointments come. 
 I fear them. In this blotted existence, it is so 
 hard to keep true purposes and ideals; you will 
 be opposed every foot of your way. It is very 
 difficult to have faith in men's honour and 
 goodness. Everywhere there is decay in the 
 heart of ripeness. Look where you will. What 
 do you find but oceans of evil to a pennyworth of 
 good! You have seen in the Church sham 
 religion displacing true religion; in the castle, 
 sham duty, sham honour displacing true duty* 
 true honour; in the world, I fear you will find 
 cruelty, greed, and selfishness all through. You 
 have started on a desperate crusade. To reform 
 the manners, to change the mind, to clean the 
 thought of this generation. Hey! it might be 
 funny if you were not my friend. You are all the 
 more my friend, lad I love you a thousandfold 
 more, because you would rather be mad enough 
 to fight the conventions, than rest in base agree- 
 ment with them. Go, try to purge the world, 
 
 Luke. It is a giant's task undertaken by a 
 
 249
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 stripling. But along that road lies duty. You 
 will be forgotten, but the future may wish to 
 thank the forgotten benefactor. There is the 
 reward if you win. If you fail, you fail: and 
 there is an end of it. We shall all die sooner 
 rather than later. You may as well die fighting 
 the impossible as stifling in a silver bed. Oh, 
 Lucas, my heart of hearts, you are starting on a 
 vast emprise. My heart yearns, but I do not pity 
 you. I honour and envy you. If you fail, you 
 die but it must be noble though no man may 
 know of it to die for love of ideals. Now, most 
 dear heart, farewell! If I had the power of 
 blessing I would fasten on you all the joys and 
 powers which the saints hope are in God's 
 treasury. I am you know me, Luke, lad a 
 grey man, with more folly than wit, a fool's fool, 
 wearing livery which the least may mock at and 
 make mirth with; but from the depth of my 
 being, I say: Bless you, bless you, Luke! Be 
 brave always, cheerful always, hopeful always, 
 gentle always. If the world is ever to be better, 
 it will be because of the selfless sacrifice of such 
 as you. So go, my golden knight : win or lose, fight 
 hard and truly. Win or fail, you will always have 
 knighthood in your heart. Live or die it matters 
 not much which, for the days of life are few while 
 
 you live, live for duty. Good-bye, good-bye! " 
 250
 
 Ulf Says Benedicite 
 
 Both had tears in their eyes. Luke struggled 
 after speech, but could find no words. Ulf seized 
 his shoulders, looking eagerly at him. That was 
 the ending. Ulf turned impulsively and went 
 with haste. Very shortly afterwards Luke heard 
 the hoof-beats of the cantering mule. He ran to 
 the road to see the last of his friend ; but already 
 that friend was gone. 
 
 The idealist was at last quite alone. Battles 
 waited before him. 
 
 25 1
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 EXIT ALYS 
 
 THE unknighted knight-errant began his wander- 
 ings early on the morrow. He started with a well- 
 furnished wallet; a modest purse and a good 
 sword hung at his side. The counsel and encour- 
 agement Ulf had given him were prominent in his 
 mind; the fair-souled folk of the cottage sent kind 
 words after him. He marched hopefully and 
 steadfastly, along the southward way he had taken 
 once before. He strode with the swing of con- 
 fidence. 
 
 There was, however, still one ideal which he 
 could not, even now, let die without a struggle 
 Alys ! The knowledge that she was then, for ever, 
 going out of his life that was the dark of his 
 bitterness. But he was destined to see her again : 
 more evidence of the ironical interest which the 
 " cherubs who sit up aloft " take in the little 
 dislikes and wishes of men ! 
 
 Luke had tramped a distance. He was dusty 
 and travel-stained. To gain ease from the heat 
 
 and dryness of the road, he walked on the sward 
 
 252
 
 Exit Alys 
 
 in the shadow of the trees. Presently he heard 
 voices; and, naturally curious to see, approached 
 the sounds and peered across a thicket. He was 
 surprised to find the travellers people he knew a 
 company from the castle. 
 
 First came two or three armed serving-men, 
 mounted on chargers, leading pack-horses. Then 
 a little distance behind, lonely and sad-looking, 
 Berlyn's unfortunate bride. She, and two ladies 
 beside her, a silent three, rode palfreys. Others 
 in the company talked and had cheerfulness, but 
 not those three. Attendants with more pack- 
 horses followed ; then no one for a time. 
 
 Where was Berlyn? Luke asked himself. 
 Vague fears crossed his mind. He forced his way 
 through the thicket, and sat by the roadside 
 thinking. . He drew patterns in the dust with 
 the end of his sword-scabbard. There had been 
 Berlyn's bride; but where was Berlyn? Then 
 the further query had to come where was Alys? 
 
 The questions were soon answered. A peal 
 of girl's laughter woke the wood, slew the 
 silence. Luke sprang to his feet, stung with 
 remembrance. His body was a prison of all the 
 emotions. He knew wildness of delight com- 
 mingled with wild unhappiness. It was Alys who 
 had laughed ! 
 
 There approached him round the bend two 
 253
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Berlyn and Alys he on a black horse, she on 
 a white palfrey. Luke faced the fact oh, the 
 horror of it ! What was she doing there with him, 
 rejoicing, chattering in the loneliness; while in 
 front, pale, silent, sad, the neglected bride was 
 riding. A thousand agonies and some bitter 
 happiness thrilled Luke's being. This was the 
 last glimpse of his idyll, Alys the good-bye of 
 his love. 
 
 His eyes shone, his thin face expressed the pain 
 and passion of the moment. Berlyn saw him, and 
 without knowing him, glared. Alys knew him: 
 and then in characteristic diablerie, in wanton- 
 ness and mockery, in the spirit of careless mis- 
 chief reached over and, eyeing Luke as if aware 
 of the wild hopes and passion for her that had held 
 him, whispered to Berlyn. Berlyn laughed scorn- 
 fully, glared anew at Luke, seized her fingers, 
 kissed them, and put his hand on her shoulder. 
 She looked saucy smiles at Luke whose heart 
 was now in a turmoil and bending, caught the 
 purse which hung at Berlyn's waist, robbed it of 
 a silver piece, and, making a pretty mouth a 
 diabolically pretty mouth dropped the coin as 
 she passed, at Luke's feet. It rolled and found 
 refuge in a crevice in the dust. 
 
 Luke gazed at her passing, entranced by her 
 presence. How sylphlike and beautiful she was! 
 254
 
 Exit Alys 
 
 She did not look back at him, but went along 
 chattering anew. Berlyn's hand still rested upon 
 her. They passed onward, their horses' feet threw 
 a curtain of dust behind them, which gradually 
 veiled them. Twice in that little interlude, while 
 Luke watched, the two bubbled with laughter and 
 kissed. Then they reached a turn in the road. 
 
 Exit Alys! 
 
 Luke's eyes fell on the coin which her fair, 
 unworthy fingers had thrown to him. Was the 
 act insult or kindness? Did she know had 
 she guessed or learnt of the passion which had 
 burnt him? Had she intentionally used that 
 manner to show her scorn for his love and him? 
 Or did she deem him in need and so drop an act 
 of pity? Insult or kindness, which? Luke, re- 
 membering the manner of the smiling and the 
 character of the company, sorrowfully admitted at 
 last that the deed could not have been meant 
 kindly. He knew the girl too well. Alys was at 
 last a lost illusion. 
 
 He sat on the road-bank, hiding his face in his 
 hands, enduring the hapless lover's completeness 
 of misery. What fate had brought him to that 
 passing? Why had she acted so? He put his 
 foot upon the coin; it was the gift of a wanton, 
 thrown in impudence. There let it lie! He 
 crushed it into the dust. Yet the piece allured 
 255
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 him as though magic were within it. His eyes 
 were fascinated by it. He constantly stared at it. 
 Lost illusions may still mean some dear memories. 
 So was it now. The coin was something tangible, 
 reminding him of the little girl who had chattered 
 to him in the wood, those happy years agone. It 
 was save memories still all that was left to him 
 of her the love-idyll of his life. 
 
 He heard a raucous voice singing. A sturdy 
 fellow one of fortune's vagabonds came slouch- 
 ing along, his feet causing a cloud of dust to 
 trail behind him. His appearance gave Luke 
 determination. That silver though given with 
 scorn was too sacred for beggar-man's touch. 
 Luke rose, grabbed up the coin and pouched it. 
 
 The vagrant, seeing him, at once began to 
 whine. A diseased wife and numerous suffering 
 children glibly he ran through the eternal tale. 
 Luke was better able to measure that now; but 
 for Alys' sake in return for the coin she threw 
 him he offered the beggar a part of his store 
 of food. 
 
 The rascal stopped and stared abruptly, break- 
 ing off in his tale of trouble. He looked at the 
 meat and bread ; then laughed. 
 
 " Dryness is my complaint! " he said, pointing 
 to the bottle fastened to Luke's belt. " What is 
 
 the liquor in that jolly flagon? " 
 256
 
 Exit Alys 
 
 " Water." 
 
 "Water? Gods of fishes! Water! A jovial 
 companion you! I'm for something with a little 
 more grip in it. Water! Ugh!" 
 
 He passed on, making a wry face; after a few 
 steps to turn and say, " I'll take a groat or two if 
 you've got it ! " 
 
 Luke smiled and shook his head. 
 
 " Bah! " said the man, and in a cloudy glory 
 slouched away. 
 
 Not another three minutes elapsed before Luke 
 was again in the presence of the past, one of its 
 more miserable chapters. He was roused. Man's 
 anger waked in him. 
 
 A company of horsemen nine or ten ap- 
 proached, they were some of Rudolph's retainers, 
 and had been heavy masters to Luke. Among 
 them Wallon rode. All the pain and insults 
 which Luke had endured from that boor and 
 his fellows now stung him anew. Memories of 
 incidents in the long-drawn tyranny recurred 
 and grated. His pride still smarted from the 
 shame of the flogging. He remembered the gross 
 injustice done to the poor woman, his friend. 
 The accumulated wrath, long suppressed and 
 fought down during the many months of bondage, 
 surged with new strength within him. This was 
 the time to assert his manliness. He must protest 
 357 i
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 now, or be for ever dumb. Wallon, that liar and 
 bully, must pay something of the debt he owed! 
 
 Luke drew his sword, and stood on the grass 
 slope waiting. The men, approaching, saw the 
 glint of the drawn steel, and, handling their 
 weapons, looked warily against ambush. Then 
 finding the stripling assuredly alone, began talking 
 about him, mocking. At last, on recognising him, 
 their mockery turned to contempt and anger; and 
 all reining up, their leader a lean man, with little 
 sharp-glancing eyes and grizzled beard asked 
 Luke what he meant by standing there, sword in 
 hand. 
 
 Luke had no special quarrel with that poor 
 officer of the Earl; though he, also, had been in 
 the past hard and merciless, and the tone of the 
 enquiry was not calculated to soothe. 
 
 " My quarrel is not with you, sir; but I pray 
 you for the shame and flogging I received, and 
 even more for the injustice done by Wallon to a 
 poor misused woman, to let me fight that liar, 
 coward, and scoundrel! " He pronounced the 
 three expletives with particular care. 
 
 Wallon had out his sword with an oath; and 
 swearing, dug spurs in his horse's flanks, making 
 the beast plunge and rear. Others among the 
 men laughed, or were angry, as suited their 
 
 temperaments. Luke waited with evident calm- 
 258
 
 Exit Alys 
 
 ness for Wallon to dismount; though inwardly 
 he was not calm, long endurance of cruelty and 
 the remembrance of wrongs witnessed having 
 hardened his gentle heart against those offenders. 
 
 The officer smiled in a wry way. He signed to 
 Wallon to sheath his weapon; and then address- 
 ing Luke, said: 
 
 ' You must be moonstruck! An honourable 
 man-at-arms does not fight with a discharged 
 scullion. Put back your blade, boy; and go 
 while the wood gives you safety ! " 
 
 Luke answered, still with respect in his voice 
 for the officer: 
 
 " I was a scullion, sir, and worked for my 
 masters with a will; but I am not a scullion now. 
 I bear a sword and am willing to stake my life on 
 my quarrel. I have been for a very long while 
 mistreated by many of you; and by none so 
 sorely and shamefully as by Wallon. I pray you 
 for this while, forget I was ever a menial; but see 
 me as I claim to be a man with a righteous 
 quarrel, willing to risk his all on the righteousness 
 of that quarrel and the strength of his sword 
 and arm." 
 
 "Life's death!" cried Wallon dismounting. 
 " I must spit this oratorical sparrow! " 
 
 " Hold! " commanded the leader, sharply. 
 " We have duty ahead and no time to waste." 
 259
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 "I'll split his head open for calling me scoundrel 
 and liar! " 
 
 Again the leader commanded, and the authority 
 he wielded made the disciplined bully pause. 
 Wallon glared with hate in his eyes from among 
 his horsed comrades at Luke, who faced him 
 without flinching. 
 
 " Will you fight me, Wallon," he challenged 
 him, " as man to man? " 
 
 "I'll thrash an insolent puppy! " 
 " Will you fight me sword against sword, on 
 that grass-space yonder? " 
 
 " Ay, and flog you again afterwards as I did 
 before. I'll no longer listen to the prating of a 
 dishclout! " 
 
 He sprang from amongst his fellows, reached 
 the grass; and at once with his sword, without 
 any preliminaries, began the attack. Luke easily 
 parried his thrusts and blows. 
 Then the leader interposed. 
 " Stop both of you! If you must fight it shall 
 be by the rules! " 
 
 " A kitchen cockscomb! " sneered Wallon. 
 
 " You touched his blade with yours; he is 
 
 now entitled to an equal footing. If you had 
 
 obeyed me you would have ridden on, leaving 
 
 the fellow to contempt. Now you shall fight 
 
 him." 
 
 260
 
 Exit Alys 
 
 Luke exulted at hearing those words. Chivalry 
 gave him an opportunity at last. 
 
 " I will fight him! " cried Wallon, confidently. 
 Giving his sword to a comrade to hold, he threw 
 off his belt and scabbard, doffed his jerkin and 
 rolled up the sleeve on his right arm. 
 
 Luke made no preparations. When they had 
 reached the clearing, he waited warily and breathed 
 a hidden prayer. 
 
 All the horsemen, except two, had dismounted 
 to watch the duel. The officer, with his sword 
 drawn, acted as umpire. He enjoyed thoroughly 
 enjoyed the passing excitement. 
 
 It was not long before the combatants were 
 ready, standing in their places, facing each other. 
 The officer gave the word. The duel began. 
 Both the swordsmen attacked. There was in 
 those early moments little of merely defensive 
 play. Wallon brought to the engagement the 
 confidence of experience and the belief that his 
 opponent was unused to the long-blade business. 
 There was a grin on his face, half anger, half 
 derision. But he got as good as he gave. He 
 soon knew, by the way his enemy's steel met his, 
 that Luke was not a novice in the swordsman's 
 game. 
 
 Ulf's pupil surprised all the onlookers by his 
 
 dash and coolness. Where could he have learnt 
 261
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 his art ? His fencing seemed inspired. His wrist 
 was firm and supple. He took all the points 
 of the opposite blade with easy readiness, and 
 thrusted and feinted in return in a way which 
 would have given pride to his tutor. All the while 
 he fought he was sublimely happy. He knew the 
 joy of noble knighthood. 
 
 Derision went out of Wallon's face. His grin 
 subsided. He had the wit to recognise a worthy 
 antagonist when he met him. As his subtleties 
 failed, anger grew, and made his attack more 
 deadly. His comrades, who, at first, regarded 
 Luke's pluck and comparative success with some 
 manly generosity, began to reflect their comrade's 
 wrath. They cheered Wallon and smote the 
 fighting ardour of Luke with contemptuous 
 words. 
 
 Wallon pressed the attack, but could not 
 penetrate Luke's guard. Once he nearly lost his 
 sword through a sudden unexpected twist of his 
 adversary's blade. 
 
 "Finish him!" cried one, standing behind 
 Luke. The umpire officer said not a word, but 
 sheathed his own sword. 
 
 Wallon's anger growing, added fire to his 
 energy. He plied his restless blade with increas- 
 ing fury and rapidity. So vehement was the 
 
 attack that Luke was forced back two paces. 
 262
 
 Exit Alys 
 
 Way was not made for him. He stepped against 
 the man who was standing behind him; and that 
 hero of chivalry sharply pushed him forward. 
 
 The unexpected jerk spoiled Luke's guard. He 
 lost his reckoning and found the sword beaten 
 from his hand. 
 
 "That was not fair!" he cried, the same 
 moment as Wallon's point pierced his arm. The 
 warm blood ran down his sleeve into the palm of 
 his hand. 
 
 " Fair! " cried Wallon, coming up and peering 
 maliciously in his face. " Fair, you insolent 
 runagate ! You called me liar and scoundrel, now 
 take that! " With all his might he struck Luke 
 full in the face with the fist of his left hand. 
 
 The youth went down with a gasp, and beyond 
 all other thoughts, at that whirling moment of 
 utter consternation, he realised that the chivalry 
 of that time and of those men, like all else heroic 
 about them, was an absolute proven lie. 
 
 He was no sooner fallen than Wallon put a foot 
 heavily upon him and raised his sword to thrust ; 
 but that was too much for the nominal umpire. 
 
 "Sheathe, Wallon! let the fellow go. He 
 fought with courage. Sheathe sword! Let him 
 
 go." 
 
 Wallon removed his foot and sheathed his 
 
 weapon; then, seeing Luke's sword upon the 
 263
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 ground, he picked it up and with a sharp jerk 
 broke it across his knee, throwing the pieces 
 at his opponent. The hilt hit him in the mouth. 
 
 Luke realised nothing of this violence and 
 insult. It was the consciousness of having been 
 treated not by the rules of the game not in the 
 spirit of chivalry, which obsessed his mind. 
 
 When he repossessed his strained and straying 
 senses and stood again, Wallon and his comrades 
 were gone. 
 
 264
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 ONE WITH LAZARUS 
 
 THREE years passed a period of grim ordeal. 
 
 During those dreary years Luke went through 
 the depths of want. He knew infinite misery and 
 met it with infinite cheer. Life was to him an 
 angry wilderness, but he overcame its many 
 unkindnesses with the courage that refuses to 
 lament. 
 
 He was one with the least, the comrade of the 
 lowest; companion of the lost. He starved 
 steadily and knew all the bitter sweetness of the 
 rejected crust. 
 
 He had no friends, and was lonely, very lonely. 
 
 He wandered and worked, spiritually unsoiled, 
 through the worst and lowest deeps, and knew to 
 the full that weight of shame, want, and never- 
 satisfied desire which breaks the hearts of ten 
 thousand. He lived amongst the wreckage of 
 men and women haunted shadows they, in a 
 valley of grey despair; and because of their woes 
 and terrors, his own dreams and hopes faded and 
 
 became dim. 
 
 265 12
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 He came to know human misery at its darkest 
 and worst. He read the secret pages of the 
 world's real shame. His heart bled for love of the 
 sinners and sufferers, the helpless and the weak. 
 So much so very much of that misery was an 
 heritage; so many of the culprits were nothing 
 other than scapegoats for the sins of the fathers. 
 Mystery inscrutable! 
 
 He came through hardship and fellowship to 
 plumb the world's -sorrow to its depths. There 
 was, indeed, no form of human grief and pain 
 which he did not witness or share and help to 
 assuage. From the squalid hovel and cellar of 
 living filth to the lazar den with its worse afflic- 
 tions and hideous abominations, he went minister- 
 ing and for shelter. In his day the poor came 
 grovelling to the helpers not the helpers, rich 
 with bounty, to the poor. Luke was all alone in 
 his simple crusade and pilgrimage. 
 
 The ban of the Church was upon him. Once 
 only, driven by desperate want, did he approach 
 sacred portals; and then, by a coincidence even 
 more extraordinary than every coincidence must 
 be, the janitor who answered his faltering sum- 
 mons knew him. He had been one of the 
 monastery of St. Dunstan while Luke was swine- 
 herd there. Recognising his suppliant, he shut 
 
 the door. 
 
 266
 
 One with Lazarus 
 
 The gloom about the outcast deepened. He 
 lost, for a little while, the undying hope which had 
 buoyed him. It seemed at that moment as if he 
 were utterly lost, and could never get from man a 
 similitude of the kindness he gave. He ran with 
 despair out into the darkness, and, throwing 
 himself rain-blinded in the mire, prayed to God 
 passionately for some help some answer of light 
 in that wilderness of questioning and pity. 
 
 There came no answer from Heaven. His 
 prayer seemed wasted in the darkness. Luke felt 
 forgotten. 
 
 But then his natural bravery came to the rescue 
 of his soul and pride. He faced consequences and 
 fought against despair; and eventually compelled 
 himself to extract hope even out of the blackness 
 of that forbidding sky. He remembered his 
 ideals, that behind those clouds there were stars. 
 He remembered his visions; and gained comfort 
 from his own assurance that Heaven was always 
 watching and shining, then and ever beyond 
 the mirk overhead. 
 
 So he won himself again. 
 
 During the whole of those distressful years 
 he was true to his high purposes. He was the 
 Knight of the Poor. He wrought and suffered 
 and gave. He was the Poor's poor champion. 
 
 He wore no material weapon. His first sword, 
 267
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 broken by Wallon, was never replaced. He had 
 now quite lost his old, clinging fancy to compete 
 for glory among men; he came to recognise, in 
 that hard life of slavery and want, what a phan- 
 tasm and idle shadow the tinsel and trumpeting, 
 panoply and parade of mere shouting chivalry 
 was. He had seen the mouldering tombs of 
 worthy forgotten knights, and, forsooth, knew 
 that when their hearts were cold, and their minds 
 had lost the illusions, they were no better than 
 the hedge-lass and beggar-man whose bones had 
 rotted under a thicket. He had read more than 
 one epitaph which praised a dead woman's beauty, 
 and had sometimes seen the realities, after-death. 
 The duel with Wallon had finally exposed the 
 sham chivalry. Luke never forgot the humiliat- 
 ing lesson he had then learned, and, eager for 
 better duty, took upon himself the rigorous dis- 
 cipline and self-sacrifice of spiritual knighthood. 
 He gave himself sans stint to the battle for right 
 and kindness, and aspired to fight, not in the lists 
 made glad with smiles and purple, but among 
 those who work ever, yet always must want. So 
 he lived to help with bread and hands, and com- 
 forted life's luckless ones with deeds of cheer. 
 Some of those he helped came to know and wel- 
 come him; but the majority accepted his gifts 
 
 and forgot. A few there were who remembered 
 268
 
 One with Lazarus 
 
 sufficiently to whisper of him as " the man with 
 the angel eyes." 
 
 Peruel, in sooth, gazed often through those 
 gates of the soul. 
 
 Most of the years of service were spent in the 
 neglected parts of the towns. The large and 
 patient helplessness of the poor in those wilder- 
 nesses of haunted people fascinated and appalled 
 him. The lot of the children born to the decad- 
 ence of sordid cities, ignorant of the sun and 
 freedom of God's green country always brought 
 tears to his heart. Their prettiness, their help- 
 lessness, their need and their doom ! Oh, it was 
 all a baffling problem that made him wonder and 
 despair! Why were these little beings born, only 
 to die so soon flies in the autumn cold after a 
 dark experience of ugliness, unhappiness, and 
 pain ? Why should they have lives, if it was only 
 to know misery? He longed for the truth about 
 this mystery it was his old, old difficulty in a 
 new guise. 
 
 Gradually, out of his harsh experience, he found 
 that larger truth he had sought for those mani- 
 festations of God he had asked for so insistently. 
 Different, very different they were from his antici- 
 pations; but no less the vital Truth he had been 
 seeking. As he, with his own hands and good 
 
 counsel, laboured, so in time he saw misery dis- 
 269
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 placed by comfort, unkindness replaced by affec- 
 tion, ugliness modified, even transformed into 
 beauty, hatred changed to love. As he worked 
 and gave and suffered, so he found happiness, 
 virtue, hope, growing and strengthening. Here 
 was the manifestation divine. 
 
 He had in his young impatience looked for 
 angel-presences visibly rebuking evil men, had 
 almost expected to witness miracles wrought 
 among the squalor; but though he had his own 
 joyous visions more frequent and glorious as his 
 personal misfortunes grew he had come to know 
 that God's reign is in the heart. His presence on 
 earth is shown through the works of men who 
 obey His laws and are ruled by His love. That 
 was God's way. There was the Truth. 
 
 The bully, the wastrel, the coward might seem 
 to go their fatal gate unchecked and unpunished; 
 but it was not so really. Heaven's ways were 
 subtle and more just. 
 
 The bully lost his strength and met his match 
 and master. The wastrel soon reached the dregs 
 of his resources. The coward his life, spent 
 amongst fears, was a constant punishment. 
 
 So it was in some degree through the whole 
 gamut of sins. Every vice in due time brought 
 its appropriate punishment. 
 
 As Luke advanced in his quiet crusade he found 
 270
 
 One with Lazarus 
 
 more frequent results. There had been in the 
 earlier time almost infinite disappointments; but 
 somehow, as the years passed, perseverance and 
 patience found their royal reward. There were, 
 to speak with metaphor, only a few flowers blow- 
 ing in the desert; but they were something. 
 Each was of his planting, helped and strengthened 
 by his tendence, and represented a human brother 
 or sister relieved from some sorrow or want. 
 
 His heart became filled with a great secret joy 
 and boundless gratitude. 
 
 So the three years had groaned past ; and Luke 
 was, in all respects but age, older by many more 
 than thrice three times that period. 
 
 Physically Luke was greatly changed. Insuffi- 
 ciency of food and clothing, with the strain of 
 unending effort of body and mind, had worn him 
 down; till even the fact of being became a 
 struggle. His wasted face bore the impress of 
 weariness and anxieties; it was lined and seamed, 
 as the face of a man several times his age should 
 not have been. His body was emaciated and bent. 
 He became an object for the pity of the kind, the 
 dread of the foolish, the scorn of the cruel. Only 
 his eyes remained luminous and happy always. 
 To men he was ugly and unpleasing; but they 
 could not witness his spirituality. Eyes of flesh 
 could only see the husk, bruised and worn. In 
 271
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 the eyes of the angels the husk is invisible: to 
 them, Luke Peruel was radiant. 
 
 Though some loved him, he was contemned of 
 the multitude, and forced into loneliness, knowing 
 to the full that curse of the towns solitude amid 
 the many. But as the days passed, he grieved 
 less at the fact of banishment; for, as his body 
 weakened, his hidden strength grew, he had 
 frequent visions. Often, while he starved amid 
 squalor, he was illumined and rapt from himself. 
 The place of his misery was lighted with holy 
 magnificence; his glorified self knew harmonies 
 and happiness, beside which the music and joys 
 of this life are as discord and dulness. 
 
 As his body suffered, the joy of his mind 
 increased. As his flesh decayed, his soul grew 
 greater with brightness. As his flesh decayed ! 
 
 There came to him, with unexpectedness that 
 stunned, the worst of human calamities. Of a 
 sudden he was aware of it. He awoke and found 
 himself accursed. 
 
 He had been labouring with bare hands and 
 gentle heart in the worst part of an evil city. The 
 vice, want, black degradation, and begrimed ugli- 
 ness he was compelled to witness and endure, had 
 reduced his strength to weakness. The little food 
 he had was often bad stale fish and wasted bread, 
 
 the bounty of the mean. He had herded at nights 
 272
 
 One with Lazarus 
 
 with the lowest and poorest a sharer of wastrel's 
 kindness, a hopeless member in the hopeless army 
 of Nobody's Poor. 
 
 He had gone forth gallantly in the morning to 
 work through another day. His throat was sore; 
 his voice husky. 
 
 A passer-by, his eyes wide with alarm, stopped 
 suddenly and accosted him. 
 
 " Go from the town at once at once! " the 
 stranger cried, shrinking back and crossing 
 himself. 
 
 Luke was frightened. 
 
 " From the town? " he asked. His words were 
 hard to articulate a sign of the disease. " I 
 have work to do." 
 
 " Poor soul ! Poor unclean soul ! " said the other. 
 " Christ help you ! Your work is done. You are 
 one of the stricken one with St. Lazarus." 
 
 Luke, hearing this spelling of doom, could not 
 restrain a cry, then horror, unspeakable, held him. 
 He stood still as a statue, stricken; frozen with 
 dread. 
 
 One with Lazarus! A leper! With his heart 
 all pain, he found words to bless the man, and 
 then started running in a panic; never pausing 
 until he was out of the town, and once more alone 
 in the forest. 
 
 Doomed ! Doomed ! 
 
 273
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 He found a pool and looked at his reflection 
 in the watery mirror. The stranger had spoken 
 truly. The beginnings of leprosy were there. He 
 threw himself full length in the soothing grass, 
 and wept. 
 
 He remained prone for a long while, till the 
 human fear and sorrow passed, driven away by 
 the tears. Then he braced himself to meet the 
 inevitable. Rising, he walked slowly, praying as 
 he went, towards the house of those the Monks 
 of Lazarus whose loathsome and splendid mission 
 it was to help the leprous and bury them. 
 
 274
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 PERUEL FINDS THE GATE 
 
 THE Hostel of Lazanas was two hours' journey 
 away, standing in sinister loneliness at the end 
 of a forest road. 
 
 As Luke walked towards it, his mind was a 
 kingdom of grey contemplation. 
 
 This was the crown of his efforts the pitiful 
 end of his dreams! He could never be useful 
 again! Even the few hopes he still clung to 
 hopes of future usefulness to his comrades of 
 poverty must be yielded up, sacrificed on the 
 altar of failure. He was a dishclout, worn out, 
 to be wasted. 
 
 All about him the world was shining, singing, 
 enjoying its healthy life; a perfect sky, cloud- 
 flecked, domed above. Bird voices made the 
 green avenues cathedrals of lingering music. 
 There was the whirr and buzz of insect life. The 
 grasses waved, the multi-hued flowers glowed, 
 for the last time for him ! To-morrow he would 
 be of the living-dead. 
 
 The woods had been his favourite playground 
 275
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 from the beginning; it was appropriate that the 
 last hour of his free life should be spent amongst 
 their trees and thickets, pools and streams. 
 
 He remembered with grateful affection the 
 old monastery wood and the life he had shared 
 there with Kelp, Mause, Lilith, Hilary, and those 
 others; with Ulf and AlysUlf ! 
 
 He sat on the grass amongst blue shadows, 
 feeding his heart with faded memories. Those 
 young hopes and early dreams aspirations, 
 struggles, sufferings! And this the end of them 
 all! 
 
 His mind ran remembering along past journey- 
 ings. For a while he was lost in the sad happiness, 
 the bitter sweetness of a lifetime of flitting joys 
 and troubles re-lived. 
 
 As he dreamed of ended days, his vivid imagina- 
 tion, reviving old circumstances, persons, things, 
 caused the present trouble to be for a while 
 forgotten. The joys of the finished life seemed 
 greater, the sorrows less mere faint shadows of 
 themselves. Yes, thought he, at that sunlighted 
 hour of farewell, my life has been happy; I have 
 been greatly blessed. 
 
 His eyes lingered on the beauties prevailing; 
 his ears were fully awake to Nature's melodies; 
 his heart, in absolute sympathy with the joys 
 
 abounding, for a sudden period of moments 
 276
 
 Peruel Finds the Gate 
 
 knowing splendid forgetfulness, throbbed in 
 harmony with the eternal rhythm of things. 
 
 Then sorrow struck him fiercely. He remem- 
 bered. On the morrow all this infinite gaiety, 
 laud, loveliness, would be as hidden pictures in 
 a locked book locked to him, till the death of 
 his life. 
 
 Reaction supervened. In the new mood, suc- 
 ceeding, the joy of life about him was awry; its 
 sounds rang cracked and hollow, its beauty 
 seemed misapplied; and again, out of the chatter- 
 ing happiness, the word of death boomed as an 
 ominous bell. 
 
 Doomed! Doomed! Once more he seemed to 
 hear the hopeless words. So his heart voiced 
 Nature's knell, given in gladness. 
 
 The darkness of despondence had fastened 
 closely upon him. His mind was cloaked, his 
 soul seemed shrouded with heavy shadows. 
 Never again could he know health or hope or 
 happiness; and evil spirits, with horrid subtlety 
 whispering in his brain, accentuated the present 
 misery. 
 
 His pride lay prone in a nether world of utter 
 humiliation. It was the last and heaviest of 
 Luke's many ordeals. The thought that bit was 
 this: that in his mission to help the weak and the 
 
 wronged he had failed absolutely. 
 277
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 The carelessness, callousness, cruelty, want, 
 ugliness, and misery, which in his later years he 
 had given himself against, would go on, worse 
 or better no different for his going. 
 
 Then came health of mind again. A light was 
 illumined in his heart; for the last time the 
 mood of rancorous reaction went. New hopes 
 sprang out of his eternal store of hopefulness. 
 He definitely thrust aside the morbid depression 
 which had grieved him, and with resolution strode 
 out of his valley of shadows. 
 
 He was God's warrior again confident, deter- 
 mined, aspiring. With raised head and lofty 
 heart he marched doomward. 
 
 In the depth of the forest, to the right of the 
 trodden road, he came to a shrine a painted 
 Christ, weather-faded, hanging from a wooden 
 cross. The sylvan solace, the rippling song of 
 a streamlet, the grateful shade of heavily-leaved 
 trees, appealed to his tired mind and limbs, and 
 bade them rest. So he knelt before the shrine, 
 and watched with fixed eyes the sacred figure, 
 and prayed. He was won into a silent passion 
 of rapture. 
 
 A lonely outlaw, ranging through the wood, 
 saw him kneeling, and stared. Something about 
 the praying man was insultingly familiar. 
 
 Connol remembered. The old unsubdued fire 
 278
 
 Peruel Finds the Gate 
 
 of hate surged anew in his savage heart. He 
 swore five oaths, drew blade, and crept. 
 
 Luke neither saw nor heard. He was lost to 
 dangers of earth. 
 
 The outlaw came close to him and raised the 
 knife. Luke's release was not to be so kind. 
 
 Connol noticed the grey hair, the shrunken 
 body; all the signs of suffering and present afflic- 
 tion which the bent form bore, and in the strong 
 man's contempt for weakness and failure 
 despised. He would not condescend to slay 
 what was evidently so miserable and prone to 
 death. His power of hating was abnormal. 
 
 He withdrew for a distance and sat on a tree- 
 bole to watch. He wondered at the phenomenon 
 of the figure kneeling, praying for so long a while. 
 This was something more than the folly of effort, 
 as in his inexperience and ignorance he had 
 always regarded prayer. This was not cere- 
 monious hypocrisy, a robed professional pose, 
 as though in other words he had always 
 regarded the petitions of the priests. 
 
 Gradually a wonder happened to him a strange 
 fear crept over him. It seemed as if invisible 
 presences with which he could have no sympathy 
 were about him. 
 
 All the fragments of superstition which had 
 
 been his mental furniture swarmed about his 
 279
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 unbalanced consciousness. He found himself 
 afraid. 
 
 The strong creature who had braved mean 
 death a thousand times, was pitilessly fearful of 
 his own indefinite fancies, and quaked beneath 
 monsters born of ugly ignorance. 
 
 That very ignorance utter and absolute 
 added to the sacred dread. He sprang to his 
 feet with a low, moaning cry, instinctively sheathed 
 the knife, and, running forward, flung himself 
 passionately on the naked path behind Luke. 
 In mute agony he stretched arms out imploringly 
 towards the Cross. He could not pray, having 
 never found the faculty; could not even frame 
 definite thoughts; could only lie prostrate there, 
 in a waking swoon, frightened and comforted. 
 
 When having found himself again he looked up, 
 it was to realise Luke still kneeling, the shrine 
 before, the trees overhead ; but a new voice within 
 him whispered. Connel obeyed its vague com- 
 mand. He crept once more towards Luke how 
 different the motive and stooped to touch with 
 superstitious fingers the edge of his garment. 
 Then he fled. 
 
 Luke, his rapture of prayer past, rose to his feet 
 with spirit so elate that he forgot the cramps of 
 long kneeling and every other physical meta- 
 physical discomfort that had beset him. 
 280
 
 Peruel Finds the Gate 
 
 He had come to accept leprosy as a burden to 
 be borne for his soul's inscrutable good. That 
 was the only consolation to be found in the ordeal 
 he faced. He placed before the crucifix his only 
 offering, the hoarded silver coin which Alys had 
 thrown to him, and went, without further stop, 
 to the hostel of the monks of Lazarus. 
 
 He came to it at last a long, low, gloomy 
 building and rang a noisy bell. 
 
 That moment he made truce with the Church. 
 He went in his weakness, a mute suppliant for 
 pity. The monks took him without question 
 asked. The hopelessness of his physical condition 
 was an adequate appeal. They welcomed him; 
 and, bound in duty by vows and promises, tended 
 him. Their words, their movements, helping him, 
 were as offices for the dead. Luke was then, in 
 fact, crossing the frontier of the Republic of 
 Death. 
 
 The following day solemn ceremonies began. 
 He was led into the small bare chapel, the prayer- 
 place of the iron brotherhood, and knelt in fulness 
 of humility before the altar. The plaintive 
 voices of the monks pleaded for him, singing his 
 Requiem. 
 
 He was with elaborate ritual robed in black. 
 Mass and Matins were said for him Mass and 
 
 Matins for the dead. 
 
 281
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 Slowly, painfully, his heart awe-stricken, Luke 
 went through the details of his own funeral. 
 Earth was thrown upon his foot. 
 
 Ashes to ashes and dust to dust ! 
 
 Then was his knell clanged; while mourning 
 voices complained in chorus. 
 
 He passed out of the chapel, and slowly 
 approached the door of his living tomb. 
 
 As he passed along the winding pathway, 
 seeing only as a haze the white figures about him, 
 though hearing with absolute distinctness the 
 words of their melancholy psalm, he was aware of 
 quickened thoughts, tempting him heavily in his 
 weakness. 
 
 The Truth ! The Truth ! 7s this the Truth ? 
 
 Luke prayed in his heart, prayed desperately. 
 But the efforts of the enemies were not yet done. 
 
 The procession stopped before a lonely hovel in 
 a sandy waste. There were other hovels, similar 
 to that one, dotted about. Here was Luke's home 
 for the shrunken remainder of his days. 
 
 He entered, and knelt, in an agony of abase- 
 ment, in the place of his living doom. 
 
 He heard the voices of the retreating monks 
 still chanting a dwindling chorus, till their Miserere 
 faded away and was done. Then, and not till 
 then, did he realise his loneliness and the full 
 
 meaning of that silence and solitude. ^ He was 
 
 282
 
 Peruel Finds the Gate 
 
 alone, one of the dead and buried. Rising, he 
 looked around. 
 
 Within the hut a hollow was dug. His grave ! 
 There were a few ordinary utensils of life a 
 wooden table, a wooden bed, a chair, sundry 
 oddments of furniture, a cross; and there placed 
 beside the grave the particular possessions, the 
 unique wealth of the leper, distinguishing marks 
 of his affliction and shame a particoloured hooded 
 robe, with a face-cloth to hide the leprous ugliness 
 which would spread and increase, a wooden 
 clapper, which, whenever, on that limited domain, 
 he walked abroad, he was bound to rattle and 
 sound to announce his coming ; and a staff. 
 
 So Luke came at last to his own home. His 
 mind realised the import of it all. He cried aloud 
 in sheer agony, then sitting by the table hid his 
 face in his hands and knew soul-darkness. 
 
 Out of the darkness there sprang a sudden 
 light ; and out of the light a voice. 
 
 " Peruel! " 
 
 " I am here! " Luke answered. It was not he 
 who answered, but the voice of his soul which 
 spoke. 
 
 " Peruel, are you penitent ? " came the enquiry. 
 
 " I am penitent! " was the answer. 
 
 There was silence for an indefinite period ; then 
 
 it seemed as though a weary load, the weight of 
 283
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 troubled years and problems and many tears, was 
 lifted from him. 
 
 Again repeating that earlier experience, the 
 vision of long before there was a growth of 
 glorious light, of transcendental brightness, happi- 
 ness, majesty beyond men's words. 
 
 " Peruel, are you penitent? " 
 
 Thrice was the significant enquiry repeated; 
 thrice did Peruel answer. Every response was 
 followed by a mighty growth of splendour, and an 
 ever-spreading accompaniment of celestial song. 
 Luke's long-parched, haunted soul knew strange 
 refreshedness. 
 
 The leper was lost among the glories. He 
 was comforted, enraptured. There was a season 
 of suspense, with fear -fraught silence. The 
 universe seemed hushed and listening. Eternity 
 was attent, watching one soul, waiting. It 
 awaited a challenge by the Prince of Evil, such 
 challenge as had always been made to prevent 
 the recovery to Paradise of one of the lost. 
 
 In suspense of anxiety, Luke lost his rapture. 
 He hungered for rest. Peruel yearned for the 
 triumph that brings peace. He waited eager 
 for release at that period of portending judgment. 
 The ages-waited moment of decision was come. 
 Was his ordeal of an aeon and an earth's lifetime 
 
 to end victoriously now, or in failure again ? 
 284
 
 Peruel Finds the Gate 
 
 Luke was now aware that throughout his years 
 of wandering a vague and malignant Shadow had 
 haunted him. For the first time now, the Shade 
 became definite, he recognised the Arch-enemy. 
 
 All the pitifulness of his present existence and 
 the woes of his troubled life; all the heroism, 
 humility, patience, selflessness, sacrifice of his 
 time of breathing and of doing, championed him 
 in this hour of eternal destiny. 
 
 Luke's record of true honour spoke for him. 
 Its whiteness and holy strength caused Satan, 
 urgent to speak, to be dumb. 
 
 Insistently, with fulness of effort, the Prince of 
 Evil strove to make challenging answer. But his 
 pride and power in this crisis were nothing. He 
 found himself impotent in the presence of such 
 valour and virtue. 
 
 He fled silently, baffled and ashamed. 
 
 So the challenge for which legions waited was 
 not uttered. The wonted arrogant voice was not 
 heard. Satan was worsted. The battle was 
 ended. Duty had won. There was rejoicing in 
 the heights. 
 
 Days, months, perhaps years went by. They 
 were unnumbered, their measure was of no im- 
 portance. Luke's festering body endured; while 
 his mind lived in a perpetual palace of contempla- 
 
 285
 
 Pilgrimage 
 
 tion, joyous, lighted, jewelled, golden, uncon- 
 cerned by, unconscious of, the discomforts of 
 fetid flesh. 
 
 During that narrowing time of earthen days 
 Peruel was an equal companion with the angels. 
 Luke's soul walked as with God through the 
 pleasaunces of Paradise. 
 
 Then, on the day of glad destiny, the angels, 
 waiting to welcome him, kissed him and kissed 
 him. His body had done its life business. 
 
 He was found in the grave; his eyes, almost 
 closed by the swollen flesh, stared at the rafters. 
 Two birds of black omen, disturbed, flew croaking 
 from the doorway. 
 
 So Peruel found Heaven's gate, and was happy. 
 
 THE TEMPLE PRESS, PRINTERS, LETCHWORTH 
 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below. 
 
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 1914