The Secret Chamber at Chad by Evelyn Everett Green

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Julian, too, had got an answer that completely satisfied him, and
he readily rose to go with his brother. Those two found an hour or
two of thought and study as much at a time as they cared for. They
called their dogs and sallied forth over the fields towards the
shady, well-fringed river banks, and Brother Emmanuel was left
alone with his second pupil, Edred, whose eyes were still fixed
upon the black lettering of the great Bible open at the last
passage under discussion.

The monk bent an earnest glance upon the boy's face. He saw that an
argument which had completely satisfied the other two had not
satisfied this other keener mind. But he asked no questions,
leaving the boy to speak or not as he chose. These were days in
which too much questioning was a dangerous thing. Many men felt as
though they were treading the crust of a volcano, and that a single
unwary step might plunge them headlong into the burning gulf.

When even such a man as Bishop Peacock had been threatened with the
stake, and sent into perpetual imprisonment, even after having
"recanted" his errors, no wonder that all men holding broad or
enlightened opinions trembled for themselves. And yet, as thought
will not be bound, and the young are ever the most ardent in the
pursuit of truth, and the most impatient under the yoke of fetters
unwillingly worn, so neither this young monk nor his still more
youthful companion could be content to drift on without looking
into the stirring questions of the day for themselves.

Edred's mind at this moment was working rapidly and following up a
train of thought as fascinating as it was new. He suddenly turned
back to the very beginning of the book, and began reading to
himself some words he found there. Presently he looked up quickly
into his instructor's face.

"Thy words about four channels put me in mind of the four streams
we read of in the beginning, that watered the garden of the Lord.
It seemed to me as if perchance there was some connection betwixt
them--that the Lord's plan has ever been the same. Surely He led
forth the children of Israel through the wilderness beneath four
standards. And here the four streams are all given. But we hear no
more of any of them later, do we, save the river Euphrates. Out of
the four three seem to have been lost," and the boy raised his eyes
with a perplexed expression and looked earnestly at his teacher.

Between those two existed one of those keen bonds of sympathy that
often enable persons to communicate their thoughts without the
medium of words. In a moment the monk had read what was in the
boy's mind, and in a fashion he answered as though Edred had
spoken.

"Thou thinkest that even as some of God's watering rivers ran dry,
so some of His channels of grace, whereby He meant all men to be
replenished with heavenly light and grace, may perchance have
become choked and useless. Is not that thy thought, my son?"

"My father, is it sin thus to think?" asked Edred, almost beneath
his breath. "I cannot shut mine eyes and mine ears. I have heard
whispers of terrible corruption in high places even at Rome itself.
I try not to hear or to think too much, but I cannot help my
burning desire to know more of what passes in the world. It was but
a short year ago that a godly man coming from foreign lands told us
fearful tales of the corruption even of the papal court. O my
father, I fear to whisper it even to thee; but I cannot but ask in
my heart, can the popes be truly apostles? And if not, can we say
that the channel of grace once given to men is open yet for us to
drink from? Ah, pardon me if I err! I will do penance for my evil
thoughts. But where may we find now those four life-giving streams
by which Christ purposed to keep His body, the Church, nourished
and sustained? Prophets there be none, save here and there a spark
of the old fire. Those travelling friars are sometimes holy men;
but, alas! they are bitter foes of the very Church from which they
profess to be sent out, and are oft laid under the papal ban. We
have our pastor priests; but do they feed the flock? O my father,
how can I walk with closed eyes through this world of sin and
strife? If the channels run dry, if the pastors refuse food to the
hungry people, can it be sin if they strive to feed themselves,
even though they be something too ignorant to do it wisely and
well?"

A very grave, thoughtful, and austere look was stamped upon the
face towards which Edred directed his gaze. It was long before he
received any answer, and then it was but a sorrowful one.

"My son, I will not blame thee for these thoughts, albeit they be
charged with peril in these days. It is human nature thus to
question and thus to doubt. We may not blind our eyes, though we
must ever strive to chasten our hearts, that we fall not into the
condemnation of those who speak evil of dignities, and bring a
railing accusation against those set over them. I, too, have had my
period of storm-tossed doubts and fears; but I have learned to fix
mine eyes upon the Holy One of Israel, who never slumbers nor
sleeps--upon the crucified Saviour, who has suffered that death of
agony and shame that He may draw all men unto Himself. How He will
do it I know not. How He will open up again the closed channels,
and make ready His Church to meet Him and receive Him, I can not
even conjecture. But His word cannot fail; and in His own appointed
time, and in His own appointed way, I verily believe that He will
draw unto Himself all men who have ever called upon His name, and
all those unto whom His name has never been proclaimed, and who,
therefore, have never rejected Him. In that hope and that belief I
try to rest; and fixing my eyes and thoughts upon Him and Him
alone, I strive to forget the chaos and the strife of earth, and to
look upon all men as brothers in Christ, if they will but bow the
knee at that thrice holy name."

Edred looked at him with wide-open eyes.

"Heretics call upon the name of Jesus. Thinkest thou that heretics
will be saved? I thought they were doomed to hellfire forever!"

The boy spoke in a voice that was little more than a whisper. He
was almost afraid to hear the answer, lest it should convey a germ
of the dreaded heresy, and yet how eager he was to know what
Brother Emmanuel really thought.

"It is not for me to say who will and who will not be saved," he
said, slowly and thoughtfully; "and we are expressly told that
there will be punishment for those who fall away from the faith.
Yet we are not told that error will be punished with everlasting
death. And there be places in Holy Scripture which tell us that
'whoso believeth and is baptized shall be saved;' and heretics
believe that Christ died for the world. It says, again, that those
who love the Lord are born of God; and shall they perish
everlastingly? My son, the mercies of God are very great; from end
to end of this book we are told that. Knowing so much, need we ask
more? With Him rests the judgment of all mankind. He alone can read
the heart. Let that thought be enough for us. Whether the sin of
heresy is as vile in His eyes as in those of man, He alone knows;
we do not. Let us strive for our own part to keep the unity of the
faith in the bond of peace, and leave all else to Him."

As he spoke, Brother Emmanuel gently closed the book, as though to
close the discussion likewise; and Edred, looking up and round
about him, drawing a long breath meantime, suddenly gave a start,
which attracted the attention of his preceptor.

A short distance away--how he had got there neither of the pair
knew; they had been too much engrossed in their talk to take much
heed of external impressions--was an elderly monk, clad in the same
gown and hood as Brother Emmanuel, betokening that he too was of
the Benedictine order; and his face, shrouded in its cowl, was
turned towards the pair with a very peculiar expression upon it. A
sinister smile was in the narrow beady eyes; the features, which
were coarse and somewhat bloated from luxurious living, were set in
a look of ill-concealed malice; and the salutation addressed to the
pair when he saw himself perceived had in it something of an
incongruous sound.

"Pax vobiscum!" said the newcomer, lifting his hand as if to impart
a blessing.

Edred instinctively bent the knee, but Brother Emmanuel's face did
not move a muscle.

"Hast thou come with a message for me from the reverend father?" he
asked quietly.

"Nay, not for thee. My message was to Sir Oliver; but I will report
to the father how excellently I found thee employed--training thy
pupils in all godliness and honesty, and in that hatred of heresy
which it behoves all true sons of the Church to cherish."

There was a spiteful gleam in the man's eyes as he spoke these
words that made Edred shiver; but the calm regard of the younger
monk did not waver.

"I have taught him nothing but what I have heard our good Dean of
St. Paul's speak before princes and prelates in the pulpit,"
answered Brother Emmanuel, not pretending to misunderstand the
innuendo conveyed. "Methinks it would profit many of our brothers
in country places to hear what is being thought and taught in
Oxford and London, in all the great centres of the country. The
reverend father knows well what I hold and what I teach."

So clear and steadfast was the light in the young monk's eyes, that
the regard of the other fell before it. He made a gesture, as if to
repudiate the defence as a thing quite superfluous.

"The piety and orthodoxy of Brother Emmanuel are known far and
wide," he answered, in a tone that was half cringing, half
spiteful; "no truer son of the Church than he lives in all the
land."

And then with another salutation he turned and glided away in the
lengthening shadows, whilst Edred turned to Brother Emmanuel with
rather a scared face, and asked:

"Dost think he heard what we were saying?"

"Belike he caught a phrase or two," was the answer, spoken gravely
but quite calmly. "I would not speak words of which I am ashamed;
at the same time, it is well in these perilous days to use all
caution, for an enemy can well distort and magnify the words he
hears, till they sound like rank heresy. For myself I have no fear.
I prize not my life greatly, though to die as a heretic, cut off
from the Church of Christ, is a fearful thing to think of. Yet even
that might be better than denying the truth--if indeed one believes
the truth to lie without, which assuredly I do not. But thou, my
son, would do well to think something less of these matters. Thou
art but a child in years, and--"

"I am quickly rising to man's estate," answered the boy, rather
impetuously, "and my thoughts will not be chained. I must give them
liberty to rove where they will. All men are talking and thinking
of these things, and wherefore not I? But, Brother Emmanuel, tell
me, who was yon black-browed brother? Methinks I have seen his face
before; but beneath the cowl many faces look alike. Who was he? and
wherefore looked he so askance at thee?"

"Brother Fabian loves me not," answered the monk with a slight
smile. "I scarce know how it began; it seemed to commence from the
day I entered the priory. I had looked to find things there
somewhat different. Perchance I spoke more than I should, being
young and ardent, and fresh from places where a different order
reigned. Brother Fabian holds various offices in the priory. He
liked not my words. Methinks he has never forgotten or forgiven. He
has always sour looks for me, and ofttimes sneering words. But I
heed them not greatly; they do not touch me near."

Edred was looking straight out before him, with a gaze in which
there was much of shrinking and surprise.

"Brothers in the same monastery at enmity one with the other!" he
said slowly, grasping more than had been spoken, with that quick
intuition which existed between tutor and pupil. "Some, leading
lives of luxury, indignant with those who would protest against
them. Brother Emmanuel, my father, my friend, when these things
come before me, I turn with loathing from the thought of entering
the life of the cloister; and yet how I long to give myself wholly
to the cause of God! How can I judge? how can I choose aright?"

"Thou must not try to choose," answered the young monk, with a
touch of austerity in his tone; "thou must await that leading and
that guiding which never fail those who truly wait upon the blessed
Son of God, and strive to do not their will but the will of Him who
pleased not Himself. At the foot of His Cross--before the altar,
where His precious body and blood are ever abiding in memorial of
His one sacrifice for sin--there is the place to seek grace and
guidance; there is the place where peace may be found. Because man
is frail, shall we despise the ordinances of God? Because men are
able to make (if such be their will) a hell upon earth even of holy
places, is that any reason why we shall think scorn of those
sanctuaries, provided by the merciful goodness of God, where men
may flee for shelter from the world, and lead a life of devotion
and fasting and prayer? My son, beware of the manifold snares of
the devil. The young are ever ready to condemn and to revolt. It is
the nature of the unchastened will of man. Be patient, and watch
unto prayer. The day will surely come when (if thou wilt but listen
for it) the voice will speak in thine heart, and tell thee what
thou art called upon to do, even as it spoke in mine, and called me
from the snares and enticements of the world to the haven of the
cloister. I know not yet what my work in this world will be; but it
is enough that my Lord and Master knows. I am here, abiding in my
place and awaiting my call. May He grant that whensoever and
howsoever that call may come, I may hear it and be ready for it,
and may follow the guiding voice even to the end."

A rapt look was in the dark eyes. Edred caught the enthusiasm of
that look, and half unconsciously sank down upon his knee.

"Bless me, even me also, O my father!" he cried, scarce knowing
what words he chose; and the thin, strong hand was laid upon his
head.

"God be with thee and bless thee, my son," said the monk, in grave,
steadfast tones; "and may He be thy guide and thy portion
henceforth and forever. May He show thee the way in which He would
have thee to go, and give thee grace and strength to follow it unto
the end."

For a moment deep silence prevailed. Both were rapidly reviewing
the words that day spoken, and the thoughts suggested by the bare
discussion of such subjects; and Edred, rising and looking with a
strange smile into the monk's face, said softly:

"Methinks it would not be hard to die in a righteous cause; but to
be hunted to death through the spite and malice of a treacherous
foe, that would be an evil fate. I would fight with the best member
I possess against such an one, were he to be mine own enemy or
thine."

A smile crossed Brother Emmanuel's face.

"Go to, boy! thou art more soldier than monk yet. Methinks thou
wouldst fight bravely and well in a good cause. Perchance that
would be the best and happiest lot for thee--

"There be thy brothers coming up from the water. Go join them, and
think not too much for thy years. Be a youth as long as thou
mayest. Manhood's cares will come all too fast."

With that he turned and went quietly towards the house, whilst
Edred went forth to meet his brothers.

Chapter IV: The Travelling Preacher.

Perhaps it was the memory of those spiteful and malicious glances
bent upon his preceptor by Brother Fabian that suggested to Edred
upon the day following to pay a visit to the secret chamber that
had once before so well sheltered a helpless fugitive.

The secret of that chamber still remained with the three boys and
their faithful esquire, Warbel. To no other living soul in the
house had any of these four ever named the matter. The boys might
not have been able to give any reason for this reticence towards
their parents, but the fact remained that they had never revealed
the secret to them, and that although tradition still spoke of a
cleverly-masked chamber somewhere at Chad, it was now popularly
supposed to have been in that part of the house which had boon
demolished during the Wars of the Roses. Children did not chatter
to their parents in days of old as they do now. They might love
them never so well, but they held them in reverence and even in
awe. They were silent in their presence, as a rule, unless spoken
to first, and the habit of conversational intimacy did not grow up
until a much later period in their lives. Thus the adventures of
Warbel, and his strange midnight visit to their bedchamber, had
never been told to Sir Oliver or his wife. All they knew was that
the man had taken refuge from the anger of the Lord of Mortimer in
one of their woodmen's huts. They were glad to give him shelter and
employment at Chad, and had never regretted the hospitality
extended to him; for he had proved the most faithful of servants,
and his devotion to the boys was so great that they could be
trusted anywhere in his keeping.

As for the anger of his proud neighbour, Sir Oliver had made light
of that. The Lord of Mortimer could not make any thing out of so
small a matter, and at that time had other more weighty affairs on
hand. Warbel's stories to his fellows of the harshness and
tyrannical rule at Mortimer made his own servants more loyal and
stanch than ever. Chad was a peaceable and happy abode for all its
inmates, and the need for secret hiding places had so far never
arisen.

The boys in years gone by had almost regretted this fact. They had
pictured so vividly how they would hide their father or some friend
of his in this secret chamber, should peril menace them from any
quarter, that it had seemed sometimes almost a pity that so secure
a hiding place should be of so little use, when it might have done
such excellent service had the need arisen.

However, as years sped by and the lads began to know more of life,
they ceased to regret that the secret chamber remained without an
occupant. From time to time they visited it, swept out the dust and
cobwebs that had accumulated there, and bit by bit collected a few
more odds and ends of furniture, so that the place now wore a look
of greater comfort and habitation than it had done when they saw it
first.

Once when Edred had been laid up by an accident to his foot, he had
amused himself by making a number of feather pillows from the
feathers of the birds his brothers shot and brought home to him.
These feathers were dressed in the proper way by the boys
themselves, and then made up into large pillows or cushions, which
were then taken up to the secret chamber (at that time the
favourite hobby of the boys), in order to make restful and
comfortable the hard pallet bed, in case any fugitive were forced
to take shelter there. In the same way had several rudely-made
rugs, formed of the skins of wild bears taken in the woods, and
tanned by the boys in a fashion of their own, found their way
thither; and altogether the place had assumed an aspect of some
comfort and even luxury, although it was now several years since
any further additions had been made to its plenishings.

Edred looked round the strange apartment with a thoughtful air as
he emerged into it from the long, dark, twisting passage he had
threaded with the security of one to whom every winding and turn
was known. It was dim and dark there, but sufficient light filtered
in through cracks and cleverly-contrived apertures to render it
easy to move about; and when the eye grew used to the dimness,
everything could be seen with pretty fair distinctness.

"It would not be a bad hiding place," mused the boy, speaking half
aloud. "Methinks over there one could even read without much
trouble. Yes, without doubt one could; and that crack might be
judiciously enlarged without any peril. It does but give upon the
leads behind the main chimney stack, and the tiles would cover any
aperture I made."

He took out his large hunting knife from his girdle as he spoke,
and worked away awhile in silence. Very soon he had considerably
added to the amount of light in the strange room. He eyed his
handiwork with considerable satisfaction.

"That is better. It would be something gloomy to be shut up here
without light enough to study by; but with books and food one might
spend many a week here and not be overwhelmed with dullness. The
place is something straight, to be sure, and there is bare room for
a tall man to stand upright."

Edred drew himself to his full height, and found that his head did
not quite reach the beams which formed the ceiling.

"I trow Brother Emmanuel could just stand; he is not greatly taller
than I. And he is marvellous contented with a very little, and has
been used to passing days and weeks in the solitude of his cell.
Sure this would not be to him an evil place. If he had but a book
or two and the needful food, he would be vastly content.

"I wonder if he can be in any sort of peril. I liked not the looks
or the words of you malicious monk. Our father and mother often say
that these be times when men must walk warily, and ofttimes they
tell of godly men even in high places who have fallen into disgrace
and been accused of fearful sins. It is not safe in these days to
have for enemies those who are within the pale of the Church--monks
and priors, men who are held up as examples and models of true
faith and piety.

"I know not whether they merit the praise men give to them.
Methinks Brother Emmanuel could teach them many things both in
precept and practice. But it is not for me to be the judge in such
matters; yet if he were in any kind of peril, I would lay down my
life to save him!"

The boy's eyes kindled at the thought. He cherished for his
preceptor an ardent and enthusiastic love, and he had his share of
that chivalrous devotion and self-sacrifice which has been the
brightest ornament of days that have much of darkness and cruelty
to disgrace them.

His face wore a very earnest look as he set about his homely task
of cleaning and setting in order this secret chamber. He was more
than two hours over his task, for he went through it with unwonted
energy. The place looked almost tempting before he had done with
it, and he looked about him with satisfied eyes at the close of his
labours.

There was a convenient spout, meant to carry off the rain water
from the complex level of the old roof, which made an excellent
substitute for a dust shoot. It could be got at from this place
without difficulty, and Edred shot down his rubbish without any
trouble through a funnel-like piece of wood he and his brothers had
contrived for the purpose many years before. Then he stood quite
still at the aperture whence the soft breeze came blowing in, lost
in thought.

"It doth get very hot here in the summer days," he remarked, "and
in especial at this end of the room, where it abuts upon the leads.
It is cooler yonder, but then it is also darker. The air and the
light come in at this side, but so does the heat likewise. And how
thirsty one gets, too! My throat is parched and dry. I mind me how
poor Warbel suffered in like manner when he was here. Food could be
brought in without trouble. I will amass even now by slow degrees
some of those hard oaten cakes that keep good for weeks, and some
salted venison that would last the winter through.

"But water--how could that be brought? Suppose that we too were
watched; suppose we dared not go through the secret door? What
would become of the prisoner?

"I must talk to Bertram and Julian about that. Bertram has a
wonderful gift for getting out of such difficulties; he has a
marvellous quick wit. We never thought in old days how the water
was to be conveyed; we thought a few bottles of wine would last a
lifetime. But to die of thirst would be worse than to face one's
foes. I shall not really rest till I have thought how such a danger
might be guarded against."

Edred left the place with a thoughtful air. He gained their own
long sleeping room without adventure. Nobody was ever there at this
hour of the day, and he sat down on his bed to think and plan.

There his brothers found him later when they came rushing up
tumultuously to find him.

"Ha! thou art there. We have been seeking thee everywhere. What
hast thou been doing, brother?"

"I have been up to the room," answered the boy. "I have been making
it all ready. I was something disturbed by what chanced
yester-afternoon. I told thee of Brother Fabian and his evil
looks?"

The other two nodded.

"Yes, verily; but they be brothers of one fraternity. Surely one
Benedictine would not hurt another?"

"I know not that. I was talking this day with Warbel. He has been
about in the world. He has seen priests and monks accused of heresy
the one by the other; and none are so fearfully persecuted as those
who wear the tonsure, if men do but suspect them of that sin.

"Brother Emmanuel a heretic!" cried Bertram, with flashing eyes. "I
would force the word down the false throat of any who dared to say
so! Brother Emmanuel is a right holy man. Art thou mad, Edred, to
think such a thing?"

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