Great Britain -- History -- Stephen, 1135-1154 -- Fiction
When the evil-doers were all gone we made fast our doors, and proceeded
to examine the condition of our house and its community. They had
completely emptied the buttery, the store-house, the granary, the
wine-cellar; they had so stripped the lord abbat's house and the lodging
of the prior that there was nothing left in them save the tables and
chairs, the mats and rushes; they had broken open both treasury and
sacristy, and had stolen thence all our most precious relics, and all
our gold and silver vessels, and all our portable pictures and
crucifixes; they had not left us so much as a patera, a chalice, or an
encensoire; they had even laid their impious thievish hands upon the
silver lamp which had been used to burn day and night at the head of the
Beauclerc's tomb, and they had carried off with them the Agnus Dei and
the jewelled cross which Henricus Primus had worn for many years of his
life, and which, at his order, had been laid upon his tomb. That silver
lamp had been sent to the abbey by Queen Adelise, the Beauclerc's second
and surviving wife, who, on the first anniversary of the Beauclerc's
death, gave us the manor of Aston in Hertfordshire, offering a pall upon
the altar in confirmation of the grant; and who likewise gave us the
land of Reginald, the Forester, at Stanton-Harcourt, nigh unto Oxenford,
and afterwards the patronage and revenues of the church of
Stanton-Harcourt, to supply the cost of the silver lamp, which she
herself did order should burn continually before the pix and the tomb of
her late husband. Yet Matilda and her plundering band had carried off
this precious cresset--and long did they prevent us getting any rent or
revenues from the lands which Queen Adelise had granted us. Not the most
recondite and secret part of our house had escaped their search. Much
did we marvel at this, until, calling over the roll, we found that three
members of our community did not answer to their names. The three
missing were, two novices, to wit, young Urswick, the whiteheaded, from
Pangbourne, and John Blount from Maple-Durham, and one full monk, to
wit, Father Anselm, of Norman birth, who had but lately taken the vows,
but who had been much employed by our treasurer in offices of trust. The
two novices (may their souls be assoiled!) had been wiled away by those
young Jezebels, and had put on warlike harness, and had gone with
Matilda to serve her as men-at-arms: Father Anselm, being a
well-favoured man, had found favour in the sight of the Countess of
Anjou, and had gone with her to be her mass-priest, and to aim at some
vacant bishopric or abbey. Well had it been for us if he had never come
back to Reading. Heavy suspicions had fallen upon our sub-prior
Hildebrand, touching the postern gate; but it was ascertained upon
inquiry, that Urswick, the whiteheaded, who had been wont to wait upon
the sub-prior, did, at the bidding of Matilda, or of one of her damsels,
steal the keys and undo the door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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