The thirteenth century, so rich in Saints, was appallingly prolific in heresies too, and of these the Manichæan, ancient as the devil himself, was just then the most aggressive. It had gained much ground in the north of Italy, and when Peter was born in Verona his whole family had been led away by it. But the true Faith was still taught in the schools, and by the time the boy was seven years old he had learnt the Apostles’ Creed, and neither blows nor caresses at home could shake him in his loyalty to it. Later he was sent to Bologna to pursue the studies considered necessary for a gentleman in those days, but Providence had other designs and uses for him. He was yet in his teens when the call came; he answered it at once, renounced the world and took the Habit of the Preachers, the sons and followers of Saint Dominic. The Breviary says, “With great splendour did his virtues shine in religion,” especially in his gifts of preaching, which brought the strayed lambs back to the fold by thousands at a time. He had always prayed for the crowning grace of martyrdom, and when it approached he told those who loved him that his end was close at hand. The Manichæans feared him as much as they hated him, for he was as stern with the recalcitrant as he was tender to the contrite. He was returning, in the exercise of his ministry, from Como to Milan when they murdered him. With his last breath he repeated the Apostles’ Creed. The antiphon for his Feast repeats the words used by Innocent IV in the Bull of his canonization, which took place the year after his death, an immense number of authentic miracles having already testified to the honour and glory God had bestowed upon him in Paradise. “As purest flame leaps up from the depths of smoke, as the rose blooms on the thorny branch, so Peter, Teacher and Martyr, is born of faithless parents.” “Soldier in the Preachers’ camp, he stands now in the ranks of the warriors triumphant.” “His soul was all angelic, his tongue fruitful, his life apostolic, and his death precious.” “The unconquered athlete battles strong in death, professing aloud the Faith for which he bleeds. It is thus that the martyr triumphs as he dies for the Faith.” To all but us benighted Catholics “the Faith,” in these latter days, is a mere sun-myth, and the blackest heresy a disease that has lost all its terrors—as harmless as chicken pox or a cold in the head. Let us, who know better, at least have the grace to acknowledge our debt to the great ones who fought for our heritage and kept it clean with their blood! CHAPTER XVIII SOUTHERN SHORES