The Church wisely did not interfere with these old rites. It taught Bodo to pray to the Ever-Lord instead of to Father Heaven, and to the Virgin Mary instead of to Mother Earth, and with these changes let the old spell he had learned from his ancestors serve him still. It taught him, for instance, to call on Christ and Mary in his charm for bees. When Ermentrude heard her bees swarming, she stood outside her cottage and said this little charm over them: Christ, there is a swarm of bees outside, Fly hither, my little cattle, In blest peace, in God’s protection, Come home safe and sound. Sit down, sit down, bee, St. Mary commanded thee. Thou shalt not have leave, Thou shalt not fly to the wood. Thou shalt not escape me, Nor go away from me. Sit very still, Wait God’s will! And if Bodo on his way home saw one of his bees caught in a brier bush, he immediately stood still and wished--as some people wish to-day when they go under a ladder. It was the Church, too, which taught Bodo to add “So be it, Lord,” to the end of his charm against pain. Now, his ancestors for generations behind him had believed that if you had a stitch in your side, or a bad pain anywhere, it came from a worm in the marrow of your bones, which was eating you up, and that the only way to get rid of that worm was to put a knife, or an arrow-head, or some other piece of metal to the sore place, and then wheedle the worm out on to the blade by saying a charm. And this was the charm which Bodo’s heathen ancestors had always said and which Bodo went on saying when little Wido had a pain: “Come out, worm, with nine little worms, out from the marrow into the bone, from the bone into the flesh, from the flesh into the skin, from the skin into this arrow.” And then (in obedience to the Church) he added “So be it, Lord.” But sometimes it was not possible to read a Christian meaning into Bodo’s doings. Sometimes he paid visits to some man who was thought to have a wizard’s powers, or superstitiously reverenced some twisted tree, about which there hung old stories never quite forgotten. Then the Church was stern. When he went to confession the priest would ask him: “Have you consulted magicians and enchanters, have you made vows to trees and fountains, have you drunk any magic philtre?” And he would have to confess what he did last time his cow was sick. But the Church was kind as well as stern. “When serfs come to you,” we find one bishop telling his priests, “you must not give them as many fasts to perform as rich men. Put upon them only half the penance.” The Church knew well enough that Bodo could not drive his plough all day upon an empty stomach. The hunting, drinking, feasting Frankish nobles could afford to lose a meal.