The Chronicle of Clemendy/The Rubrican's First Tale

by Arthur Machen

WHAT FELL OUT IN THE ANCIENT KEEP OF CALDICOT

OF MY lord Humphrey de Bohun, tenth and last of that name, many pleasant adventures are related, for he had livery of Caldicot Castle when he was but a young man, and so was disposed to hold a merry court therein. In this he succeeded admirably; but not so well in his designs of afterwards turning over a new leaf and being gravely sober, since he died young, as if to show there was quite enough gravity already if not too much. But during the ten or twelve years of his reign that fine Castle of Caldicot was full of jokes and entertainments; indeed, some have supposed that this plenitude of jest caused the walls to bulge out and afterwards to crack; but I believe the great hole by the eastern tower was made in the muddled times of the Roses when Earl Humphrey had been under earth for many years. You know he married my lady Joan of Arundel, with whom he had been brought up, so that husband and wife understood each other's little ways, and managed to live together very comfortably at Caldicot, where there was plenty of room for everybody. And one of my lord's whims was to gather about him a company of those quaint fellows sometimes called "men of genius"; for what reason I know not, but so goes the phrase. But I certainly think the genii in attendance on these gentlemen are by no means to be envied, since the work is hard, the laud little, and the wages less; and if "like master like man" hold good these poor devils must have but a scurvy life of it. Nevertheless some people profess great love for these queer customers, and the High Constable was one of them, and he would have stowed inside the castle a small army of poets, romancers, stargazers, scholars, cunning mechanics, and dabblers in Hermetical affairs, and all at the same time; and they say that he got his money's worth out of them for they often made him laugh till he cried. Others think he might have been more thrifty in his amusements and declare that he would have done well to content himself with his household fool who made folly his profession whereas the rest were mere virtuosi or amateurs of foolishness. Yet by this assemblage of oddities my lord enjoyed a great variety and diversity of doublets, faces, and methods of madness; and he delighted in nothing so much as to watch his jokers at dinner, or in their other employments the which were manifold. It is reported that in an apartment of the south-western tower, somewhat near the sky but provided with a fair hanging gallery, Master Jehan Doucereutz perfected his rare piece called Le Roman de la Mouche, admired by all virtuous people for its fine colloquies, dialogues, allegories, fables, and moralities, though some critics call it a tedious and lengthy poem. But in these dissolute times a piece of more than twelve thousand lines tires out our patience, and really good poets of severe morality like Maistre Jehan can gain no hearing. Formerly no maiden of gentle blood would have dared to skip a line of Le Roman de la Mouche, and many right virtuous and illustrious ladies have confessed that they owe all their good qualities to it and their tapestry work; but all this is changed. Hard by the postern gate was lodged Master Geoffrey Tudor, and here he wrote the fifth Book of Sir Percival of Trematon, a romance stuffed fuller of enchantments, battles, dragons, giants, magicians, peerless ladies, mirrors of chivalry and coat-armour than any other work of the species; and it is stated that the exquisite delineation of the Castle of Joyous Garde in the fifth book is the exact portraiture of Caldicot as it was in the reign of the last De Bohun. Atop of the south-eastern tower was the apartment of Master Ignoramus de Prato, one of those gentry who interfere with the privacy of the Lunatics, Mercurials, Jovials, and (worst of all) Venerians, who know rather more about the future than about the present, and who will tell you whether you will dance from a ladder or say your prayers kneeling—at the block: and what's more they'll show you the reasons of it, and how it must be so from a malign aspect of Saturn, and in such wise and in so many hard words that for very decency's sake you'll not presume to die in your bed. Master Ignoramus his little tract (500 pp. folio) on Decumbitures was first printed at Venice in the year of grace 1495, and with it is his Dedication to "The Most Noble Prince, Humphrey, Earl of Hereford Lord Marcher of Wales and Lord High Constable of the Realm of England." Underneath this astrological personage, sometime dwelt Messer Antonio dei Coglonieri, a Venetian and a great clerk, who knew Greek and many things besides; but both his temper and his complexion were too hot to be pleasant, and everybody from my lord to the serving-maids agreed that there was no satisfying him, and that the sooner he were gone the better it would be. In the western tower of the grand gate-house was the apartment of Master Nicholas Bubbewyth, a man far gone in mechanical knowledge, who was able to twist a large river round his little finger, and to make it go up or down, to right or left, in a straight line, a spiral, or in maze-wise just as he pleased without any reference to the natural predilections of the water. It was Master Bubbewyth who perfected that pleasant contrivance by the which all the meadows about the castle could be put under water in five minutes; and also a device, not less pleasant, for shooting boiling lead through the air; but he was a man of wit and merry fancy who knew what a joke was, and understood the violent, mixt, and natural motion of projectiles. Last and best of all this company came Dom Benedict Rotherham who had been in Arabia and Syria and amongst the Moors both of Spain and Africa, and in these places had practised the art of multiplication, and was affirmed to be an adept in the operation of Hermes. And besides those high mysteries that relate to the making of gold, and the preparation of the life-giving essence, he was learned in the physick of the Arabians, and understood the concoction of potions and powders of wonderful efficacy, whether to kill or cure, and it was whispered that he knew enough of magick to set down Caldicot Castle in the realms of the Great Cham between the hours of matins and prime. In fine the High Constable regarded Dom Rotherham as his rarest diamond, and had given him at his own desire an apartment in the great keep. Which keep was the oldest part of the castle, and stood at the north-western angle of the wall, on a lofty mound, having been built in the gloriously muddled days of King Stephen, when it was well if one had a good thickness of wall between the vital parts of one's body and the austerities of the climate. For in those days it rained spears, hailed battle-axes, and snowed iron-headed shafts, and in Gwent there was often a Welsh frost besides: and all these weathers were noisome for man and calculated to bring on bad complaints. Therefore Humphrey de Bohun, third of that name, who married Margaret, daughter to Earl Milo of Hereford made the walls of his mistress' tower ten feet thick, and took great care that the masons set the stones truly to the square, and filled up the chinks and crannies with mortar, lest perchance there should be a draught. You will wonder that this lusty lord was so particular not to have a blast of cold air blowing at the back of his neck, but I assure you there was nothing that our old nobles hated more than a draught. Why was that? Well, you see a draught was more hurtful then than now-a-days; for in our times it breeds a rheum and sets our noses running, but in the days of Humphrey III, it was very apt (if the hole were large enough) to breed men-at-arms and set blood running; the which sanguinary defluction is worse than any rheum, and cannot be treated with hot water and a handkerchief. Below the ground story, some ten feet beneath the earth, and full twenty feet from the slope of the mound was a sweet capacious dungeon, a dungeon where a man could lie snug and still, without bothering his head about politics, or theology or any knotty points, since nobody could disturb him in this retreat. For some reason or other Dom Benedict when he first came to Caldicot, and saw all the splendour of the palace (for in the later days it was no less), the fair rooms on the walls and in the towers, whence one could step out on the alures or galleries and take the air easily and pleasantly, came to a stand at the old donjon and would have my lord assign him an apartment there, saying that it was very fit for his purposes. The High Constable was astonished at this request, and showed him how much fairer and better rooms there were in Caldicot, and wondered greatly when the adept still desired a place in the keep. But here it was that Dom Benedict went to work and lit his fires, filling the whole tower with dreadful stenches, that seemed to make their way even through those mighty walls and float out on to the court and to the noses of the lords and ladies as they sat in the hall or in the bowers. Father Raymond the chaplain swore by the Gospels that he looked one night out of window and saw the whole keep aglow with fire, and every joining of the stones marked out in a blinding line of light; others professed that they had heard dreadful noises issuing from it, as it were of a storm of thunder; a few had seen a flaming cloud float across the sky and hover over the tower; but the High Constable was glad to hear these reports, since they showed he had got a man who understood his business and had some little interest with the fiends and elemental spirits. But though the adept was assuredly a clever fellow, who had gone deeper into the nature of things than most of us, he could not justly be called a pretty man, nor a well-favoured, nor a handsome; since his face was too yellow, and had too many wrinkles in it to be altogether a nice countenance. Moreover his eyes were uncertain and variable, some said they were coal-black, some that they were blue, and some that they were sea-green; but all agreed they were more like two small fire-balls than anything else, since a look out of them shot through you, disturbed your faculties, and confused your understanding, like a swinging fisticuff, fairly delivered above the nose. And the body of Dom Benedict was mighty lean, and clothed in a black cassock, and appeared to be thoroughly dried up by the hot suns of Africa and Syria and the fetid smoke of his furnaces; in such wise that all the ladies and women of the castle had a very poor conceit of him, as being more of a bellow than a man. But in this they were mistaken as ladies sometimes are, even in matters that concern them nearest, for the adept was very strong and had worked up all sorts of things in those crucibles of his besides The Green Lion and The Sun blessed of the Fire. Sometimes he would come out of his laboratory and walk in the galleries whence he could see the country far and wide, and looked down into the bailey and watched the Knights pass to and fro and the men at arms, but he spoke only when he could not help speaking, and few save the High Constable troubled him with their conversation. In fact Dom Benedict stunk abominably of chemical materials, and it was best to keep at a distance from him, since he made one feel faint and sickly and dried up the throat: but my lord when he would talk with him always had a boy with a flagon of wine by his side; and as he drank all the time he was in the tower it is no great wonder that he often felt confused about the operation of Hermes when he came out, and found going down the ladder a mighty ticklish affair. There could be no doubt that the alchemist was a very different personage to all the other ingenious gentlemen entertained in the castle, for Maistre Jehan Doucereutz, though a moral and didactical versifier, more profitable for young maidens than any other tutor, was a great favourite with everybody and fitted his conversation to all needs, for as he moralises in his poem the wise man is like a key that will turn back any bolt, and open every door. To my lord he told tales, some say better and pithier relations than any in the Roman de la Mouche; to my lady and her cousins he read what he had written the night before, with the knights and esquires he was mirthful, and all the maidens loved him, and he them; though none could wag his head in time with Father Raymond's better than this witty and excellent man. And it was the same with the rest, for they all tried to make the time pass pleasantly, as it should in a castle; and if men did not try to be companionable, what would the poor girls do; for they cannot play their little games all by themselves, or if they try they soon begin to yawn and get dull; and this shows that we men are intended to be always with them, to help them laugh and cry, eat and drink, dance and sing, keep still and make a noise. Why even Master Nick Bubbewyth, who was a plain outspoken kind of man, did his best and made the ladies little mechanical toys, most ingeniously and artificially invented and cut out; and as for Master Geoffrey Tudor when he began to tell a chivalrous adventure full of dwarfs, spired towers, magick swords, and enchanted forests, the whole hall grew as still as death; and when he had done all the maids wanted to kiss him, to which I am sure he would have had no objection. But this alchemical personage was entirely disagreeable both to mind and body, and even my lord, though he was proud to have a man at Caldicot that could make gold and knew all about the fiends, yet confessed that Dom Benedict was an unwholesome fellow and smelt very strong. But still the adept abode in the keep and pursued his investigations; and it is said that he made by art a great store of gold, with which the High Constable enriched the castle with rare metal work from Flanders and finished the Tennis Court so that it was finer than the King's Jeu de Paume in France.

Now among the women of my lady Joan there was a girl named Loyse, who came from Bretagne, and was a great favourite with the Countess, perchance with the Earl also, for she was good to look upon, and well shaped all over. But however this may be it is certain that she gave none of her favours to anybody else, nay, not so much as a kiss, and yet had lips that seemed devised for nothing besides, and as sweet a little body as any Christian woman could desire. But she seemed, somehow or other, to be still waiting for something or somebody, and would stand for hours on the alures, gazing across the plain, or watching the gilt vanes swing from north to south. Loyse was in short a grave, quiet girl, and on that account loved by the Countess, who found her other maidens rather too fond of amusing themselves with the pages and young gentlemen who were learning their business at Caldicot; but as she said it was all her husband's fault, since he was never better pleased than when he caught a page with his arms round a maiden's neck, kissing her like anything, and putting all manner of foolish notions into the poor girl's head. This always made the High Constable laugh tremendously, and he would say to the pair "That's right my children, be sure to enjoy yourselves, and don't mind me." So it is not to be wondered at that these pastimes became very popular at Caldicot, and the esquires, pages, captains, and lieutenants were always tickling, squeezing, enticing, and kissing some girl or another, but never Loyse for she did not appear to care about enjoying herself like the rest of them. Yet they all loved her for she was a kind, pitiful, girl, and so beautiful withal that a good deed done by her seemed somehow of a much better quality than the good deeds of the governess Mistress Eleanora Malkin, who was not exactly well favoured, nor quite as young as she had been. How this was I can't tell you, but it is just the same in our days, and I expect never will be different. Moreover each and every of the young gallants hoped to overcome her scruples before next July, and treated themselves with imaginations of the first kiss on those maiden lips, for the sprouting chivalry of Caldicot was point de vice and thought no small beer of itself in war, or love or tennis; the which were the principal amusements of those days. And the three pastimes are alike in many ways: in each victory is very sweet and defeat as bitter, for each one must be strong and a thorough man, and in each great practice and long experience is required if you want to divide your enemy scientifically into two equal parts, to take your lady's heart quite out of her body, or to best "better than half-a-yard." And every gentleman at Caldicot wished to do these things, and worked hard from morning to night and from night to morning, at one or the other, and the ladies helped them as well as they were able, since one could not be unkind to people who were so persevering. I suppose that even the smallest page, little Raoul de Monthermer, who was only ten (it was pleasant to hear him talking of his mistress and the lady of his thoughts) would be dead by this time in the natural course of nature; but many of the High Constable's establishment died young from a too rigorous pursuit of their favourite amusements, for they forgot that one should be temperate in all things and seemed to think themselves as strong as that Seigneur d'Ercules who was a Lord Marcher of Greece and did things that are too hard for us now. And this courageous chivalry was madly in love with Loyse, partly because she really had a nice figure (droit corsage the French call it) and partly because she would have nothing to do with it, and when it began to say pretty things and to stretch out a wanton hand, she would move further off and begin to talk about something else. And once there was a Court of Love held at Caldicot, to the which came Ladies, Knights, poets, and pursuivants d'amour from all Christendom, and the Assize was held in a tent set up in a meadow, most gorgeous to behold, all shining and glittering and glowing with gold cloth, and noble blazons, and banners of the Knights. Hereat arose so sweet a noise of sonnets and canzones, of amorous rhapsodies and songs burning with love, of glitterns and of lutes; that if you stand under the old ruinous Castle walls in June whiles the sun is setting, you may chance to hear some few faint notes of that delicious musique, and catch a glimpse of the fluttering banners, though it was all done many an hundred year ago. And to this Court came many petitions from the Castle, and pleaded the Rebellion against our Liege Lord Love of Mistress Loyse, showing that she had never paid to him who is paramount lord of all women and men, her suit and service. And the Arrest d'Amour was duly proclaimed bidding this rebel make amends to her sovereign, and choose some gentleman to be her true lover, as you may read in the Paictes et Gestes joyeuses de la Cour Dorée, a book which is now in the King's Library at Paris. But still Loyse continued obstinate and kissed nobody but her mistress and the other girls, liked to have a room to herself, and went about dreamily, heeding not at all the frolicsome, merry, wanton, life that everybody beside herself was leading; I should say beside herself and the Hermetic Philosopher Dom Benedict Rotherham; but sweet Loyse did not remind one in the least of the adept, since, as I have above noted, his skin was too yellow and his eyes too burning to be pleasant to look at. Not to speak of his figure which was of quite a different shape from the maiden's.

But one day after Evensong, when the whole house was sitting down to supper, it appeared that Loyse was nowhere to be seen, for many soon missed her, though she gave droit d'amour to none. And first they went to her chamber, but she was not there; nor indeed in any other part of the castle, though no coign nor carrel was left unsearched from my lady's bower to the guard-room by the grand gateway. At the latter place the men-at-arms answered that they had seen nothing of her, sorrowfully enough, since it was like asking a poor shepherd if he had a pipe of malmsey in his cabin: and the watch were quite assured that Mistress Loyse had not left the castle; in fine, she seemed utterly to have vanished like a puff of smoke on a windy day. I need not say that the keep was searched from top to bottom, from the wooden gallery on the roof, to the dungeon below the mound: but as one might expect there were no maidens of any kind to be seen within the walls thereof. There was however a most fetid and noisome stench proceeding from some prima materia that was gaily purging itself of its gross qualities over a brisk fire, and in truth everybody judged these qualities to be as gross as could be reasonably desired. Dom Benedict indeed was hanging his nose over the crucible as if he rather liked these vapours which made the throats of the searchers feel like a ploughed field after a long drought with a hot sun shining on it; but then he was a man of peculiar tastes and not a little eccentric. He did not seem thoroughly to comprehend what all this curious rout was doing in his laboratory and when the High Constable endeavoured to enlighten his understanding he merely said "Mistress Loyse, Mistress Loyse" as if he were thinking of something else; and as it was very evident that she was not there they all left him and tumbled down the ladder, and ran to the buttery directly to take the taste of the prima materia out of their throats. But every other place was searched again and again, even to the lockers in the walls and the chests in the Record Room of the Chancery of Caldicot, but there was no Loyse anywhere, neither amidst the towels nor the rolls. And this was indeed a wonderful affair which puzzled all the lay-people tremendously, but Father Raymond is alleged to have had his eyes open at a very early stage of this business and to have smelt sulphur in it from the first. He certainly sent letters to Oxon, which brought a learned clerk to Caldicot, a man of great skill in matters wherein the devil was thought to have his finger, who understood all the intricacies of affairs like this; yet even he was for a long time quite at fault. But if anybody could have seen through the walls of the keep and looked into Dom Benedict's laboratory, they would have beheld a very strange sight, as appears from the confession of the adept, made by him on the fifth day of the question, and written down by Giles Sandys one of the clerks to the Chapter of St. Peters at Llandaff. The which document sets forth that the accused person Benedictus de Rotherham, a native of the county Palatine of Durham, and aged fifty-five years, three months, and ten days at the time in which this confession was made; had formerly been a monk of the Benedictine House of Religion at Durham, but was beset even from his boyhood by an itching desire for knowledge, and more especially for knowledge which is occult, and not lawfully to be acquired by Christians. And Benedictus de Rotherham, the accused person aforesaid, having found out by reading a certain book in the monastic Library, that the highest and most magistral secrets of the occult philosophy are not to be discovered in the Realm of England, nor in any other Christian land, but must be sought amongst the followers of the Accursed Prophet Mahommed (whom God confound), broke his monastic vows and fled the cloister, having stolen a jewell from the shrine of St. Cuthbert, worth better than a hundred pounds. By means of which the accused person aforesaid journeyed to the Levant and lived for many years amongst the Infidels, having renounced his Saviour, and becoming in all respects an outcast from our Holy Faith, so that he might attain to the knowledge of Alchemy and Diabolical Magick, and have intercourse with demons and the fiends of hell. And being as he professes a man of a natural and acute wit, he came in course of years to know greater secrets than the Magicians, his tutors; and has confessed to deeds which were not fit to set down on any parchment, being that they would set the parchment crackling and the ink hissing and are altogether abominable and accursed, and moreover not necessary to the process now directed against this man under the Ecclesiastical Law by and with the authority of Roger Lord Bishop of the See of Llandaff. But the accused person, Benedictus de Rotherham aforesaid has also made full confession as regarding the crime for which he has now been arraigned; namely that he did by magic arts seduce the person of one Loyse de la Haye, who has afterwards died without making any confession or receiving absolution for her sins; her body having been exhausted and her reason destroyed by the usage she endured. But before the hand of death cut short her life she raved continually of a lover, whom she called by the pagan and outlandish name of Yussuf, and still murmured words taken from Love's Promptorium, the which was never known to be in her hands. And the accused person, Benedictus de Rotherham aforesaid having been subjected to torments unendurable, that the truth might appear the more clearly, has confessed that when he had inhabited the Castle of Caldicot for the space of three months he became possessed with a stronger lust to enjoy the body of Loyse de la Haye, than had ever affected him towards other women, though he had dwelt for many years among the Infidels who are known to be preposterously and beyond all measure addicted to venery. And this desire so influenced him that he had almost died of it, and often he swooned away and became senseless from hot, intolerable imaginations in the which the beautiful body of Loyse de la Haye was continually presented to him in such wise that all his inward parts appeared to burn with the unquenchable flames of Hell. And being well assured that he was not able to get possession of her by natural means, by which maidens are used to be won, he determined to enjoy her by the power of his art, not doubting its sufficiency for this or any other purpose. And as the girl Loyse aforesaid passed below his lodging he appeared to her at the head of the stair, having transformed himself into the appearance of a young man of very great beauty, vested in rich stuffs of the Moorish fashion. Then as she came to the foot of the ladder, curious to know who this might be so handsome of feature and in such gorgeous attire, he called her to mount up and cast a spell over her so that she must needs obey whether she would or no. And when the maiden had climbed the stair he went on before her, and immediately bestowed her in a secret place contrived in the thickness of the wall, whereon, by his art he was advertised so soon as he beheld the tower on his first coming to Caldicot; and this he did knowing that she would presently be missed, and a search made everywhere. But after the High Constable and his people were gone from the keep, he led forth Loyse and drew her to him, caressing and fondling her and slaking on her lips the intolerable thirst by which he was consumed, and so working with his enchantments that before night fell she was more eager for love than even he, and gave him back all his embraces and fiery kisses in a manner which showed that she was by nature hot-blooded, and had long restrained herself. And the accused person Benedictus de Rotherham aforesaid states that they spent the night in the dungeon of the keep which by art magick was changed into a delicious bower, draped about with hangings and tapestry work, furnished with couches and stools of velvet and samite, and lighted by a jewell hung from the vault by one hundred chains of fine gold, and shedding a light at it were of a harvest moon of fourteen nights. And in the midst of this chamber, so artificially prepared was spread a banquet of delicates and the most potent wine that was ever pressed from the days of Noe until now; for a few drops of it would turn the most holy of the saints into the most infuriate of sinners. And while they feasted and toyed with one another the magick harmonies seemed to swell into their ears, and thrilled every nerve and vein in their bodies with a sharp and exquisite pleasure. * * * * * In this wise they lived together in the tower of Caldicot Castle, the accused person, Benedictus de Rotherham aforesaid, sometimes leaving his mistress and showing himself to the High Constable and his people, so that no suspicion might be stirred up against him. And when he returned to the dungeon that had been transformed into the temple of Venus, he ever found Loyse hungering for him, and remembering nothing of the Countess or her former virtuous life. But at last, by the great skill and prudence of the clerk from Oxon, their wickedness was discovered and the whole matter brought to light, as has been declared in the evidence delivered before the Ecclesiastical Court, and written down by me, Giles Sandys, appointed as scrivener to the Court on this behalf. And here the accused person Benedictus de Rotherham aforesaid became silent, and would say nothing more; whereupon he was questioned as before, but swooned away, and was pronounced by the physician, employed by the Ecclesiastical Court on his behalf, to be in danger of death; and was accordingly led back to his cell.

How like you the flavour of the old Records of St. Peter's, my merry masters? Do they not make your throats as dry and husky as mine is growing with all this talk? But I thought I would give you a taste of an old fashioned dish, though the sauces and condiments have somewhat of a fiery smack to which we are unaccustomed: and you must acknowledge that Giles the Scrivener knew how to make a confession and write it down ecclesiastically and minutely. But if you want to know what became of the accused person Benedictus de Rotherham aforesaid, I can tell you this much that he died soon after he had made confession of his detestable enormities, and indeed he had made the world too hot to hold him, for he was burnt to death. It is said that no sooner was he chained to the stake than the fagots burst into flame without any torch being set to them, which circumstance seems to prove that this alchemist was rather a bad fellow, who deserved everything he got. There is always one thing however which is pleasing in these affairs, namely that work was found for the parchment-scrapers, canonists, and ecclesiastical quill-drivers, who lead for the most part dull lives enough, and are glad to have a little variety. This mishap was also a warning to the girls at Caldicot, not to be too virtuous and severe, nor to bind the devil with iron chains; since this makes Satan angry and inclined to do mischief when he gets loose, which he is sure to do sooner or later. Mind you, I do not know that they particularly needed this cautel, but at all events it made them be careful what they were about. But the Countess was sorry for Loyse.

Ending with these words his tale of Nether-went, our Rubrican upheaved himself from the wondrous chair, and stood up, looking round as who should say "you can find no fault in my relation, I believe." But we sat in a row with our heads on one side, each man holding his pipe to his lips, and puffing pensively, for we could not exactly discover what we thought of this story. At last Tom sat down again and filled his glass and his pipe and began to drink and smoke himself; for he was not going to wait to receive judgement like a felon before the justice. Then Nick Leonard commenced to say "'Tis not altogether a bad tale, but neither is it a good one, at least to my taste; there's too great a heat about those old ecclesiastical arraigns for July, and the fable seems to me somewhat of a hellish one." To this the Rubrican answered "Do you assert that my story, which I have told, is not a moral story?" "Nay, Nay," I cried out, "he says nothing of the kind, for 'tis assuredly a very moral story, but there's a whiff of sulphur about it for all that, and you know, Master Rubrican, that the old records are apt to be strongly flavoured." "How is it," put in Phil Ambrose, "that the ink in which such things are written doth never lose its sheen, and that the gold and gules, azure and purple are still as fresh as though the pen were hardly dried." "The reason of this is," quoth the Rubrican, "that the scribes were the old monks, who did everything thoroughly; who, when they have once set foot in a country, can never be blotted out of it, nor die away into forgetfulness. Doubtless they were mortal men, even as we are, and had their little failings, but they were very strong men and knew how to make red ink and build monastic edifices. And now Abergavenny Fair is the only place where this ink can be bought, and the scriptorium of the Cwrw Dda the only place wherein it is used: and who knows how long the Sokage hold together in these days whenas all good ancient customs are dying out or being uprooted by main force?" "Take comfort," said Nick, "for there will always be Silurians as long as the world doth last; though I believe they will sometimes be very few and scattered about the land, and forced to work hard for hard masters, and be roughly treated in many ways. But still they will remain until King Arthur come once more, with his Twelve Knights and all his wonderful array, riding through the woods and across the hills to the musick of his magick horn. Then shall old Dubric sing mass in the metropolitical city, and then shall begin the great Silurian year. But lo! the night goes on and we waste the time by talking of what shall be, when we, at all events, shall have been borne with singing along the valley and up the slope of the long hill to our quiet home beneath the grass, where are no storms, nor rains, and the roaring October winds shall sound merely through the boughs above us, nor break at all our rest. Search, search my masters through the fantastick alleys of your mind, and set some merry tale on foot; recall again the joyous days of old, and let the owls hoot as mournfully as they please." "I give my place unto mine host, the good Tankard Marshall," said Tom, "I will sing mumchance through my nose, lest any babbler break the story short." Then came the chant: Hear and speak not a word, for merriment is a-making and a strong concoction of choicer wit; and the blacksmith forgeth on his ringing anvil drolls.