Chap. XI. THE CLOUD AT FURNESS.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume II, Issue 89, 9 January 1875, Page 14

Chap. XI. THE CLOUD AT FURNESS.

It was perhaps a week after that day when the brutal king placed it at the option of the Commons to pass the iniquitous bill for the dissolution of the monasteries, or lose their heads. It was a day just as bright and fine. The advancing spring, even in the cold north, had breathed upon the woods, and the black March buds, just opening, were tipped with green, on the boughs of the spreading beech or arrowy elm.

The moss that clothed the barks of the trees, moist with the rains and snows of the past winter, looked deliciously green, and contrasted its emerald tints with the deep sombre hue of the large planes, through the fan-like drooping boughs of which a hand'sbreadth of the blue sky was discernable. Beneath the deep shadows of those ever-green trees, walked Boger, the abbot, and Briand Ganor, the prior of St. Mary's, as it seemed in anxious converse.

"Yes, my son !" said the abbot, referring again to a letter which he held in his hand, "my informant has sure knowledge of all that is passing at the court. Our heretic king, who requires of himself no evil prompting, is now urgent to lay his sacriligious hands on Fountains, on Yal Crucis, and our own establishment here at Furness !"

*♦ But upon what plea !" said the prior, "for surely we are not to be slandered with the impunity that, alas, attended the villains who belied our poor brethren of the Kentish houses, at Langdon, at Folkestone, and at Dover 1"

" Wants the fox a plea for seizing the lamb, after he has devoured the chicken 9" replied the abbot. " No, my dear Briand, the spoil which Henry and his satellites have won by the destruction of the smaller houses, has only whetted his appetite for plunder ! Insatiable in his avarice and his licentiousness, his illgotton wealth vilely won, will be as vilely squandered. It needed not the prophecy of Friar Peto to fortellthat this wicked king shall at last perish miserably, with a foretaste in this world of the punishments that shall await him in the next !" " And our noble abbey is, your informant says, among the first doomed to destruction," said the prior. " Alas ! what will become of our vassals, of the poor, in this wild and inclement district ?"

" God knows !" sighed the abbot. " His hand is heavily upon us, in that this new Ahab is not smitten unto death ! For the sins of her children, hath this affliction fallen upon the Church. But the season of her affliction has ever been, also, the season of her triumph. Know you that the venerable Father Forrest, the confessor of our good injured Queen Katherine, lies in Newgate, under sentence of death. That in fertile Kent, even, not only the religious who have been driven from their shelter are perishing of want, tout the poor whom their charity supported die with them !" *' Our lady and the saints pray that we may be endowed with stregnth to make manifest our faith in the hour of affliction," said the prior. " But oh, good father ! ' though the spirit may be willing, yet the flesh is weak ' j and not to all is vouchsafed the courage of the martyr." "To the protection of our Lady of Mercy, we will commend ourselves in a solemn fast/ replied the abbot. " May her powerful prayers, and God's own grace be with us in this season of trial !" A loud laugh was echoed hoarsely through the woods as the abbot ceased speaking. Both he and the prior turned in the direction; whence the sound proceeded, and perceived a tall, rough-look-ng man, equipped as a trooper or foot soldier, approaching them. Without the slightest mark of respect, with his shoulders squared, his head erect, the fellow strode forward and stood, regarding the two dignitaries with an insolent look of mockery on his battle-scarred and weather-stained face.

"Methi^Vs," he said, "you two and the Lord Abbot and reverend Pi ./ < f Lhis abbey of St. Mary in Furness. I overheard, ha ! ha ! ha ! — i Jioveth me to more laughter than a merryandrew —this pious Lord Abbot proposing a solemn fast ! Grammercy, thou hadst better feast ! — thou and thy monks. For fasting times shall visit thee anon, when ye shall not fast from whim, but necessity !" The dignity of his high station and sacred office had not deserted the abbot. His stern, grave look half awed even the base ruffianly soldier; and he drew back a step, and involuntarily touched his barrett cap as the abbot said — "And who art thou, who with less of courtesy than a churl would show to a franklin of three acres, dost offer thy vile counsel to the abbot of Furness ?" " Grammercy, my Lord Abbot, — to grace you with that title for nigh the last time" — replied the fellow, who had regained his effrontery. "I was, whilom, a herdsman of Furness till I took service with the worshipful khight, Sir Thomas Butler, whom it hath pleased to transfer me to the right valliant and honorable knight Sir Everard Tilney, now in the service of, and a prime favorite with, our sovereign lord King Henry. And now I have been Bent by that honorable knight to give your revenence a note, that the noble Lord Sussex will be here in a few days, with commissioners empowered to look into all your doings here at Furness. Sir Everard is a right corteous knight, and would not that your jrevejen.ee should be tafeen unawares."

" Small doubt of his courtesy, it is well proven by the messenger he hath sent !" answered the abbot. But now, Gilbert Grinaby, as thou hast done thy present master's bidding, we were well quit of thy company." The man again drew dack a little when the abbot pronounced his name, and some confusion appeared on his hard face.

" A malisan on mine office !" he said with a rude show of apology. "I never dreamed your lordship would remember the face of a poor herdsman, else had I not made boast of knowing Furness so well when Sir Everard inquired for one who would bear his message. Nathless, I trust your reverend lordship blames me not. lam bound to do my master's bidding. " Had'stjthou always done thy master's bidding, Gilbert," replied the abbot, sadly, "we had not seen thee here a ribald messenger from a parasite of a sacrilegious king ! Dost thou marvel that I remember thee ? The sinner is kept in better memory than the virtuous man ; for there is joy in heaven over the sinner that repenteth. I mind me well, Gilbert, how grateful thou wast, and how thou didst protest a better life that time when I amerced thee of the penalty due for stealing thy master's sheep. Ah, sweet saints ! ere six months had fled thou didst repeat the theft, and fled thy native place. I do hope, rough soldier as it seems thou art, that thy life has in some sort amended— though, good lack, robbery and rapine are the soldier's trade! But be content, Gilbert, thou hast done thy bad errand. Go to the abbey, and say that I ordered thee refreshment ; for thou lookest travelstained and weary." " Never, my lord abbot, never !" said JGimaby, falling on his knees, and catching at the abbot's white habit and kissing it. Never, never! The meat and drink would choke me that I swallowed under that hospitable roof, which it seems as if I had betrayed. I will go down to Dalton, and lodge me at an inn. Never under the roof of St. Mary's more ! And I swear to you. Lord Abbot, I had not brought 1 this message had I thought thou wouldst have kept in memory one so poor and mean as I ! Nor would I have undertaken it even then, but that it might have been the office of one even ruder and viler than myself ; for such do the commissioners of Lord Cromwell choose for their service !

" Rise, rise, Gimaby !" said the abbot. Do not kneel to me. Amend thy life ; for I fear me it still wants mending. And scruple not to go to the abbey for refreshment." " Never, my lord 1" replied the man. " The roof of a hostel is fitter shelter for me ! But, my lord, pray you resist not the will of the king. There are terrible punishments talked of for the heads of houses who refuse to rurrender. And my master, Sir Everard Tilney ; it is whispered that the king has promised to him a large share of your lands, and he is in hot haste to secure them j for he is one who ever spends more than he can win !" "In hot haste, I doubt not!" sighed the abbot, as Gilbert Gimaby retired, with a show of respect very different to the insolent demeanor he had at first assumed.

" Oh, dear Briand," he continued, addressing the prior, "it is the wealth of the religious homes that is their crime. And who, I marvel is this Sir Everard Tilney, who has already secured a promise of plunder ? " One, doubtless, of those needy parasites who have swarmed in the court of our Tudor kings !" answered the prior. " Oh, my lord, the wicked and cruel wars of the Roses are yielding even now their bitter fruit. Our old nobility are either plunged into poverty or wholly destroyed, and their place is supplied by needy sycophants, who pamper to the king's vices that they may indulge their own !"