The Chronicle of Clemendy/How the Folk of Abergavenny Were Pestered by an Accurséd Knight
HOW THE FOLK OF ABERGAVENNY WERE PESTERED BY AN ACCURSED KNIGHT
ALL GOOD Silurists love the sweet town of Abergavenny, wherefore I need crave no pardon in telling a tale of it. But you know there stands outside the east gate a very fine church that was formerly the quire of the good old monks, settled there by the great Lord Marcher Hamelin de Baladun, not by Drogo de Baladun nor Bryan de Insula, as some have said; though indeed this question is of little importance to my history. And you know what curious and special works are to be seen in this quire, what storied and annealed windows, with monuments of charge and show most choicely wrought, and blazoned with right noble bearings. There the great lords lie well, as it becomes lords to lie, decked out in their harness, their head and feet resting on strange monstrous creatures and with calm faces and uplifted hands, wrought full rarely in the goodly stone and alabaster. Beside these are their dear wives and sweethearts vested in wimple, couvre-chef, and cote-hardie, with their little pets cut beside them. One of these sweet ladies hath a squirrel in her hand and they say that while she ran after the merry little beast she fell down from the castle wall and quite lost her breath. Is it not pitiful to think of this and of all these ladies and their knights, who of old time loved and laughed right heartily and were warm and glowing from head to foot, and are now so cold and quiet? But it was certainly a sorrowful thing to die for a little fellow with bright eyes and a curly tail; 'twas bad enough when a lady died for her big pet, who could put his arms all round the cote-hardie, and fondle it, and say pretty things, and kiss those full red lips, that are now so white and chilly. But yet 'tis of none of these dear dead maidens that I am going to talk, nor of their brave Knights that payed quit rent to them in kisses, and did with their embraces full knightly suit and service. Though one wrestled with a bull till the brute's horns broke off, and another charged twice through the stricken field of Banbury, pole-axe in hand, though one fought two days and nights with a few small ships against a host of French and Spanish galleys (hard by to Rochelle, this did Jehan de Hastings, third of that name), yet I know you care not much about them, or their noble and ancient coats, and I wis that you would not weep at the fate of the last Seigneur who died when he was but seventeen being pierced through the body in a tourney. I will therefore devise you a tale of another marvel of the minster, which (to speak the plain truth) made a great noise in its day, was a notable nuisance to the lords and ladies aforesaid, pestered the good monks till their stalls were too hot to hold them, and played the very deuce with the honest townsfolk of Burgavenny, who then, as now, lived a quiet life and asked for nothing but to be left alone. And what was this marvel? How could anything about a church be so wicked as to worry people and make them say naughty words in the old French Tongue, in the Dog-Latin Tongue, and in the language of Paradise itself, for everybody knows that Adam was a Welshman, that from his body came all the Ap-Adams, one of the largest and noblest families in the world, who have made themselves loved, feared, reverenced, and honoured both in the lands on this side the sea and in the lands beyond seas. There are some currish fellows now (and I suppose there always have been such), who say there never was, never is, and never will be an Ap-Adam good for anything alive or dead but fattening the soil, that this earth would be passably pleasant if there were no Ap-Adams on it, that the young Ap-Adams who are round and soft and wear cote-hardies cause more burning plagues and hot damnifications than the old ones with bristly beards, breeches, and grisly oaths. But these are ill-natured folks who have been crossed in love, so you mustn't mind what they say; and besides in this very church outside the east gate of Burgavenny lies the glorious tomb of Sir William ap-Thomas from whose body cometh the worshipful and illustrious house of Herbert, and he was the grandson of Jenkin ap-Adam, nor can the heralds trace this house back any further. But after all this genealogical and moral discourse you are still in the dark as to what it was that made all Abergavenny into a stewpan with a hot, glowing fire under it, and in it a heap of Drogos, Humphreys, Mauds, Matildas, Efans, Owens, Jorwerths, and Gwrgans with Prior Hadrian de Mortuo Mari and his monks, all snorting, blowing, thinning down, murmuring and crying Splendeur Diou, Diaoul, in ignem æternam et favillam cum Diabolo et angelis suis—for the good old monks were the only people then who really understood theological arrangements, so they naturally expressed their thoughts with better grace and at more length. Well I will out with it; it was a mere clock, a thing of cogs and wheels and bells to tick off hours and minutes and seconds, to strike eating time and drinking time and kissing time, by which conceptions, horoscopes, and all the products of mind and body might be dated, in sun and shade, in the which point clocks are better than Dials, for these latter are not very useful on cloudy days, and moreover on each and every Dial are the words We Must, and people do not like to be always drinking the joyous sunshine and sweet nectar of the air from a death's head, unless they are fantastic and tired of the blue sky, the green earth and the Ap-Adams upon the earth. Now this clock aforesaid lived in a tower built on to the monastic church solely for its use and benefit to the intent that it might be plainly seen and clearly heard, and tell the Burgavennians when to breakfast, dine, and sup, when to yawn and awake, when to yawn and go to sleep, when to squeeze the ladies hard and to kiss their nice red lips till they were out of breath (these kisses leave blisters) and when to listen to the juice going guggle, guggle, guggle into the cups. Besides this it marked off Mass and Matins, separated Sext and called to Compline, and as I have said dwelt in a high campanile, that looked over the town walls and peeped into all the bye-ways, dark alleys, walled gardens, pleasaunces and closes of Abergavenny, indeed it is supposed that the clock was the witness of many a little matter known only to two besides. Now the tintinnabulous functions thereof were performed by a very fine piece of mechanique, I would say by the statue of an armed knight standing in a habitacle with a double row of bells hung beside him on which he smote the hours and the quarters with his axe, and also at the Canonical Hours struck out a verse of the hymn appointed to be sung, the which duties he discharged to admiration, and was accounted an honest fellow, notwithstanding all the ugly dragons, basilisks, and serpents that were cut in the stone all about him. To be short he was called by the common people Sir Jenkin Thomas, and was known by report all over Gwent, aye, and had had bequests and charges and rents erected for him by pious people, who thought Sir Jenkin looked after them and kept Abergavenny quiet and in good order. There was a charge of three shillings and four pence per annum on the meadow called Tirgwain-y-groes, of one shilling and ninepence on the seigneur's mil, or sixpence three farthings on the land called Penycoed; while my lady Loys had given him a pair of gold spurs and a certain Sir Reginald de Braose had devised ten golden pounds to the knight: all these benefactions being for the renewing of the gilt on Sir Jenkin's armour, the repainting of his face, and also the repairing and beautifying of the tower whereon he dwelt. And as all rent-charges due to the Priory were collected by the Prior, we may be pretty certain that Sir Jenkin was not defrauded of his due. But you will ask how came this clock in Abergavenny? Well it was one of the fruits of the leisure of the good old monks, who even in their idlest hours were not entirely idle, but rather were for ever inventing, fertilising, concocting, devising, fabricating, producing and making productive. Ah! we owe a great deal to these holy men who saw into the essence of things and knew more than we do about juices and the perpetuum mobile. Accordingly one of them at Burgavenny Priory as he sat in the sunny garden looking at the wonderful hill called the Blorenge, and meditating upon what mechanical device he should next put his hands and mind to, suddenly bethought him that they had no clock worthy of their quire, and presently determined that he would make a clock that should be the pride of the Convent, the town, and the Lordship. And when this canon (his name was Dom. Maria de Wick) told the Prior of what he intended to do the Prior said O Admirabile, and nothing doubted that they would have a very special clock as Dom. Maria was known to have made an instrument in which was a wheel eternally moving and yet not finishing one revolution in seven thousand years. And in much less time than that Dom. Maria had made all his wheels, and cogs and chains and had fitted them with weights, having likewise fashioned the face, splendidly coloured in red and blue and gold, and all manner of astrological tables written on it, so that this clock got the name, among the curious, of Medulla Quadripartiti—the marrow of the Quadripartitum which as you know is the Institutes of Astrology. In the meantime the Prior had paid a visit to the Baron in his castle, and had talked very kindly to the brave honest knight, explaining to him that one of the canons was making a very fine clock for the Priory Church, and that it was necessary that this clock should be provided with a tower. Just then pretty Eva or Maud or Isabella came in, and the Prior's affair was done in no time, and the campanile as good as built, for the Prior was a very holy man and a great favourite with the ladies, his penitents. To be short the tower was built at the Baron's charges, and the clock set up in it, and then and not till then did Dom. Maria lead forth Sir Jenkin, whom he had concealed in his laboratory, for he had worked on this figure with great ingenuity, and thought even better of it than of his wheel, which to be sure did nothing but go round somewhat leisurely. And when the Prior, the Sub-prior, the canons, and the monks saw this admirable statue, so artificially perfected with helmet, coif, hauberk, condiéres, baldrick, and chausses, and marked how the face was enamelled to the life, they knew not exactly what to say; some cried "miles ad vivum," and others "admirabile," only the sub-prior muttered something to himself about "sollers hominem ponere" and "plane perfectum est," but then he knew rather two much and afterwards came to grief. Then Dom. Maria expounded his great work to them, and showed that he could easily link it to his clock and make it strike the hours and even play tunes with a moderate amount of contrivance; and of this the Prior altogether approved—"'Twill sanctify the town" said he. Thus the habitacle was fashioned high up on the tower, and the dragons, lizards, and other monsters choicely cut out by a Freemason who had come to the great Fair on May Day, and had been chosen by Dom. Maria to execute the work. Finally on St. Petronilla's Day Sir Jenkin Thomas was hoisted to his place and with his axe (the oblation of the Mystery of Cordwainers) knocked off Jam lucis orto sidere on the peal of bells (the oblation of the Mystery of Ale-Drapers) and shortly after struck six o'clock as coolly as a husband kisses his wife. I need say nothing of the rites and ceremonies observed, but you may be sure the Prior wore his gold cope with the orphrey of roses and lilies and the peacock hood, that wax tapers, incense, holy water, and holy men were as thick about that tower as flies round a cow's head on Midsummer Day. And besides the monks the castle and the town and all the country side had come to see this sanctification: there was the Baron with his little son, and the Lords Marcher or Estrighoil and Uske, wearing splendid surcoats bejewelled and glowing with lions, ravens, boars' heads, and flower-de-luces; there was the Baron's Lieutenant Sir Raoul Lezayre (but he was looking all the while at the ladies instead of Sir Jenkin), to say nothing of Esquires, Captains, and men-at-arms. As for the ladies they were there also finely tricked out in silk, and velvet, and sly smiles; and to mention things unlike together, the Chancery of Burgavenny was present in black gown and square cap, together with the Rolls and the Requests wagging their heads and looking solemn; and lastly all the commonalty of the town and country from the Mayor to the wild shepherds from the mountain. Thus was Dom. Maria's work hallowed in the presence of a great multitude, yet it was noted that after the consecration, after Sir Jenkin, his battle-axe and bells had been sprinkled with holy water, the Freemason who had cut the stone-work, craved leave to go up and set his mark thereon, saying that he had by some mischance forgotten to do this before. Which leave was given him, and it is alleged that when he had come down again, and had vanished back into the crowd he was heard to laugh indecently and full scornfully, and the Burgavennians assert that this Freemason was no more than one of Hell's Commissioners, who by that mark he set upon the stone undid all that the holy water and benedictions had effected, and in fine, was the author of all the mischief that came to pass. They say also that the Baron hearing how the fellow had laughed, was willing to have spoken with him in his castle (or may be under it) and bade a man-at-arms attach his person; but to no effect, since there was no Freemason to be seen, either then or afterwards in all the coasts of Gwent.
But nobody thought very much about him at the time, for they had plenty of other things to take up their thoughts, namely feasting and drinking; for never was there such a festival at Abergavenny as that of St. Petronilla de Clochasterio, as this lady (virgo non m'ra) was called by the monks ever after. For first of all there was a very sufficient table at the Priory, where the great Lords and Ladies, their Esquires, Pages, and Fools (so they named Men of Letters in those days) were so stuffed with peacocks, pheasants, swans, partridges, capons, salmon, carp, trout, boars' heads, larded beef, and venison of all sorts and sizes, to say nothing of the rivers of sauces monastically concocted of spices (such as the cursed monk &c., &c.), of cunning condiments, of sweet confections with one notable device in marchpane, imaging the new tower, that they must but for the wine assuredly have choked. But the wine saved them for it was ecclesiastical and entirely canonical both as to quantity and quality; so that between the monastic spices and the purple juices this was a day remembered by lords and ladies in more ways than one. Nor did the townsfolk or the country folk starve, and if you put for peacocks, ducks, and for swans, geese, for boar's head, pork, for venison, mutton, and for wine strong ale, they made as hearty a banquet in the meadow as their betters did in the refectory, and were no more fit to hear Evensong than the monks were to sing it; and indeed you could scarcely make out the Psalms for the clatter of the misereres, as one monk after another fell forwards and lost his balance. And that night it is said that the three Lords Marcher began to discuss theological questions, the which proves that they must have been half-seas-over. Why? Because when these great seigneurs were sober they never talked of such things, knowing that matters ecclesiastical are beyond a curly pate which must pass under the razor to tackle these dogmatical affairs. Nevertheless, on St. Petronilla de Clochasterio her feast they not only discussed Divinity and the Symbols of Holy Church, but even wrangled thereon, contradicting one another bitterly and stubbornly; and pelting each other with infamous accusations and malevolent censures all as if they had been Præses, Opponent and Respondent in the Schools at Oxon. At last my lord Bryan de Monte-Fixo of Estrighoil, and my lord Lawrence de Salso Marisco of Uske, fell together on my lord of Burgavenny, insinuating with indecent perspicuity that his ancestor Walter de Baladun had brought home counterfeit reliques from the Holy Land; whereupon there was a silence, for this was a dreadful thing to say, and my lord of Burgavenny's moustachios grew as stiff and upright as the tails of two dogs before they begin to fly at each other's throats. But in this silence voices came up from the lower table where the squires were sitting, and lo and behold these gentry were doing exactly the same thing as their lords, namely wrangling and disputing on the tenets of our Holy Church. The which was evidently pernicious and unbearable, so the three Barons vehemently commanded their esquires to hold their peace and go on drinking like honest gentlemen, and moreover they enforced this pious precept by example, till they were as drunk as it is possible for Lord Marcher to be; and finally were carried to bed by six of their Clerks in Chancery. And this is the very manner in which the Burgavennians celebrated the festival of St. Petronilla de Clochasterio. And for the space of a hundred years Sir Jenkin Thomas (but the monks called him Bramantip) struck the hours and played his hymns to the admiration of all men, and, as I have said, won great fame in Gwent for a doughty knight; and had monies and rents and charges devised to him, so that seventy years after Dom. Maria was buried (he became sub-prior of the Convent) Sir Jenkin glittered all over with gold and silver, and was as fresh and ruddy of countenance as on the day he was set in his place. And in course of time a new officer was created in the Convent, who was called Clochasteriarus and had a cell in the tower, his duty being to keep in order the curious mechanique of the clock, also to astrologise or star-gaze: but one or two of them that held this office are reported to have abused it, that is in place of prying into matters sidereal they pryed into matters Burgavennian, and what was worse talked of what they had seen, by which bad conduct much scandal arose. And certainly they that devised those curious optical glasses by the which we can see what kind of a place Venus is, never intended us to use them for spying into orchards or walled gardens to the great annoyance of respectable people. And one of these holy star-gazers, Brother Roger by name, when reproved by the Prior for this same misplaced curiosity, replied that a strong conceit had possessed him to the effect that Venus was as a matter of fact the earth and the earth Venus, and so he thought it his business to see what was being done on that planet: but the Prior would not listen to these refinements, and gave the post of Clochasteriarius to the oldest monk in the Convent, who merely sang with an open book before him for form's sake, since his sight had failed him in his eighty-ninth year.
But when Sir Jenkin (or Bramantip if you like it better) had rung out Now that the star of day doth rise about thirty-six thousand, five hundred times, the cursed mark of the Freemason began to take effect, though why the devil had waited all these years is more than I can say, unless it be true that Satan loves to do everything in a cross-grained roundabout kind of way, unlike everybody else. And the first folk that Bramantip worried were the monks, and the first monk to be used spitefully was his own special monk or keeper, the monk who loved him and oiled him, brushed him down, burnished his gold, saw that his bells were nicely hung, and now and again dabbed his face with paint so that Saxons and strangers from outlandish countries beyond seas might not say when they came to the great May Fair: "The Knight of Burgavenny groweth old and wrinklesome, he botched his hymn most woefully, his armour is dull and tarnished, and his arm stiff with age. In fine Sir Jenkin plainly dotes, and is altogether decayed." Yet it was upon the good monk who loved him and cared for him that the old rascal played a scurvy unhandsome trick in the manner following, as it was told by the monk aforesaid, called in religion Brother John. Who deponed before the Prior, the Sub-prior and the Canons that whilst he sat ⟨in⟩ his cell ravished in celestial speculations, he suddenly heard a great blow struck on his door as it had been a battle-axe smiting violently upon it, and immediately the door flew open, so that, turning round in great dismay, he beheld the statue, called of the monks Bramantip and of the townsfolk Sir Jenkin Thomas, standing in the doorway, with a wrathful and indignant countenance and his axe uplifted as if to smite him Brother John aforesaid, dead as he sat. Thereupon overcome by grievous terror and affright he made the sign of the cross and swooned away, and remained without knowing anything until he was revived by the Sub-prior, who found him lying at full length upon the floor. The which relation was confirmed by the Sub-prior so far as he was able to speak of his own knowledge; but he said also that going up into the tower to talk with Brother John, he met a woman (as he conceived) who seemed to be in great distress and misery, and fled past him on the stair, hiding her face with her robe. But whether this woman were only a vision, or an evil spirit, or whether she had aught to do with this affair, he, the sub-prior aforesaid, was not able to determine. And on being interrogated by the Prior Dom. Hadrian de Mortuo Mari, whether any audible species were emitted by her footfalls, he answered Yes, but it was found on consideration that demons were not seldom audible; and, further interrogated, he confessed that she appeared to him to be a young woman, and if he might judge by certain curves and spherical indications a right comely wench, but refused to take any oath touching this strange appearance in question. Thereupon the Prior bade all leave him, save only Brother John, whom he is said to have interrogated sharply and persistently both in Chapter and in camera; but nothing more was known of this matter, some saying one thing and some another; and this was Sir Jenkin's first act of malice, the rumour of which went not beyond the Convent walls.
And his second foul practice was done in this wise. You must know that the then Lord of Abergavenny had a daughter, Isabella by name, who at this time was in her sixteenth year, of a most beautiful and exquisite feature, a woman in all but age, and (so says the old Chronicle) evidently made for Love. And in the castle was a young gentleman who bore on a very noble coat, the baton sinister, the same having been from his youth in the service of the Baron, who had trained him in arms and in all that it becomes a gentleman to learn. Who being now seventeen years of age was, it is conceived, pricked and stung * * * * by the adorable and ravishing beauty of the Lady Isabella, in such wise that he was quite unable to contain himself, and finding the lady aforesaid to look not unkindly on him, became against all honour and religion her lover par amours. And so it fell out on a hot afternoon in May, they two being together in a retired arbour hard by the castle, were terribly and fearfully surprised by the Knight of the Tower, standing after an enraged and malevolent sort over against them, having his axe uplifted in the air. So the lover and his mistress became as dead for fear, thinking the Knight was come to kill them both their souls and their bodies, for their outrecuidance and impudency; and were found as they lay by the Baron, the young gentleman having his arms about the body of the Lady Isabella aforesaid. But what came of this adventure I will not tell you, for it were a sorrowful and piteous story; but this was the second mischief done of Sir Jenkin; and this could not be concealed but the rumour of it was rather blazed all over the town and Lordship.
And the third appearance of this villainous and malicious Knight was in the town of Abergavenny, and came about as follows. There lived hard by the Parish Church a fellow called Hen[1] Phil yr[2] Salutation; being a taverner and host of the Salutation Inn, the which was much resorted to by the townsfolk of the baser sort, who met there to exercise their wit on matters beyond them and to drink small ale and sour cider. This Philip was known to be a fellow of craft and marvellous skill in money-grubbing, being moreover suspected by many of unduly and unlawfully concocting his ale with water and strong drugs, so that his customers were sooner fuddled and made utterly foolish than at any tavern in the town. And how Sir Jenkin dealt with him was not clearly understood, but most said that while Phil was in his cellar, foully practising alchemy on his ale, he heard a clanging step come down the stairs, the door (which he had barred and bolted) was smitten open with a single blow, and by the light of his lanthorn he saw Sir Jenkin making toward him as if to cleave him asunder. Whereupon he fainted away, and fell with his head against the edge of a cask, and was struck silly for the remnant of his days, and these were few. But the Monk John de Ferula who lived at that time in Abergavenny, and left behind him a curious book of Annals, insinuates that besides practicing baratry with his ale, Phil did also meddle with his wife's maid, and that she was in the cellar with him when Sir Jenkin burst open the door.
And from that time there was no more peace at all in Abergavenny, nor for gentle nor simple, clergy nor lay folk, but all in turn were continually pestered by this fearsome and horrible statue, who seemed to know all that was being done from the lardarium of the convent to the bower of the castle, and interfered as readily as can be imagined with the privity of the whole town, sparing none but molesting all. Hence all the pleasantry of the place decayed, the young squires and frolicsome ladies, the jolly old monks and the hearty men-at-arms, with all the fat inn-keepers, buxom widows, merry jokers and witty wags were tormented out of their lives by this fellow with his nasty battle-axe, who made no scruple of turning up at a confidential colloquy when he ought to have been standing in his tabernacle on the tower and hammering away at his bells; for it was no use to make little arrangements to transact business at Evensong nor Compline nor Matins neither, since Sir Jenkin always made a third at these small parties. But what puzzled the good people so terribly was that the hours were rung out just the same, as also the hymns without a note missing; and this indeed the Burgavennians could scarcely be expected to take quietly, and as a matter of fact not a few men who had hitherto borne a large paunch with great credit, grew thin and pale through endeavouring to untie this knot. Once the good folk tried making a ring round the tower to watch for Sir Jenkin's descent; but then one cannot stand with one's head in the air all day and all night, and to do so for a couple of hours makes a body's neck ache terribly. And then it began to rain and hail and snow all at once, so everybody went home, and the Knight was at his old work again before the day was done. Nor could any walls, doors, locks, bolts or bars, keep him out, however high or strong they were; and the Baron gained nothing by lowering the portcullis, raising the drawbridge, setting a double watch on the barbican, bartisans, and battlements; for Sir Jenkin knocked at his door and interrupted him and altogether muddled things in the castle. It is said there were two special cauldrons of boiling lead kept simmering day and night for a week above the main entrance and two cauldrons of boiling oil maintained for the same period above the postern, but though the machicolations were beautifully made and the baron's men handy fellows with the ladle they saw no one, and yet the Knight got into the interior parts of the fortress somehow or other. And since the Baron of Burgavenny, Lord Marcher of Wales, was not able to defend his strong place against Sir Jenkin, the small gentry, and petty merchants knew they might as well give up trying: as for the monks they had given in long ago and had taken to horse-hair, knotted scourges, dreadful penances, all-night vigils, fasting on bread and water, and general morality, the which was a state of things unknown at the Priory since the days of the pious founder. But everybody confessed that it was not pleasant to live at Abergavenny as it formerly had been, and agreed that if Sir Jenkin were not done away with the castle, convent and city would all go to the devil together. And then began consultations and whisperings and conferences to take place and messengers were running all day from the castle to the convent, and from the convent to the town; and at last half a score of humble petitions were delivered to the Prior, the first beautifully engrossed by the best clerk in the Chancery of Burgavenny, and sealed with a great lump of wax as big as a French pear, with boars' heads and lions, and flower-de-luces on it, and the last rather blotted and scurvily written with no seal at all, from the poorest people in the place (for though a man be poor he doesn't like his little pleasure to be interfered with). But all these petitions were very humble and reverent, and all craved the same boon, namely that the false Knight, Sir Jenkin Thomas de Clochasterio, should be seized and haled before the Ecclesiastical Court, for that he harboured within him a certain, foul, damnable, pestilent, and infernal spirit or demon, the name of the demon aforesaid being unknown, and this to the great loss and hurt of the petitioners, who prayed that without needless delay or adjournment the Knight aforesaid should be brought to account for his horrid crimes and notorious iniquities. Which petitions were received by the Prior in full chapter after High Mass had been sung on the Festival of St. Benedict, the said Prior being pleased to use great courtesy toward the petitioners, promising to consider their desires, and finally sending them away with his benediction. And after this you may conceive what a stir and work there was amongst the ecclesiastics, what letters passed between the Prior and the Bishop of Llandaff, the Abbot of Tintern, the Abbot of Caerleon, the Abbot of Grace-Dieu, and the Priors of Uske, and Estrighoil and Llanthony; what questions were put to the Canonists and grave Doctors of the Church; for Dom. Hadrian de Mortuo Mari had sworn a great oath to do the business thoroughly and to leave no stone unturned. At last when St. Petronilla de Clochasterio her feast day came round everything had been settled, matters were in trim, and if Sir Jenkin had had an ounce of brains under his helmet he would have got down from his habitacle on the tower for good and all, and gone in search of Dom. Maria or the Freemason or the Devil or whomsoever was his responsible author. But then you see he had nothing inside his head or his belly either but brass wheels and cogs, and it seems that though these contrivances were sufficient to plague a lot of harmless quiet people, they were not clever enough to let Sir Jenkin know that he was in a nasty scrape and stood a decent chance of being burned. But on St. Petronilla's vigil, the convent and the castle and the city were as full as they could hold of Churchmen, Canonists, Casuists, Surrogates, Lawyers, Chancellors, Summoners, Apparitors, and Clerks, together with a great army of hangers-on and camp followers, who all ate and drank and walked and talked from one end of the town to the other; but kept themselves very quiet for all that, since they were terribly afraid that the Knight knew their business and would burst upon them and make holes in their skulls with that axe of his to let out the Canon Law and Divinity and Clergy and so render any processes invalid. Certainly Sir Jenkin must have been somewhat thick-headed, for he could not help seeing a great big stake driven into the ground by the west door of the Priory Church as one might say right under his nose, and likewise fellows coming in from the country bringing huge loads of dry sticks on their backs, and on mules, and in wagons, and any man-of-letters could have told him that these preparations looked very bad indeed. But on the morrow when the Abbot of Tintern had sung Pontifical High Mass, the Abbot of Caerleon being deacon and the Abbot of Grace-Dieu Sub-deacon, the Court was formed in the Chapter House, and the sub-prior of Abergavenny read a great many letters from the Churchmen who hold the chief authority in these merry affairs, by which the Court was fully constituted and invested with plenary power to deal with this detestable and monstrous case. Then Sir Jenkin Thomas was summoned to appear in the Chapter House by a grim-looking personage in a yellow skin and square cap, and this preconisation was so formal and lengthy an affair that before square-cap had called the luckless Knight's name for the ninth time, the workmen had hauled him down, and dragged him to the door, whereat his body was presently attached by the Sergeant, and he was seated in a chair straight in front of my lord Abbot of Tintern who was the chief judge. Then came the pleadings, which I would like to rehearse to you for they are pleasant reading and admirably expressed, but I have them not, and my memory will not suffice for the recollection of all the sworn statements, deeds, depositions, warrants, petitions, bills of accusation, incriminating documents, evidences by word of mouth; together with precedents, recitations, Decretals, Extravagants, Authorities, Scriptures, Rescripts, and extracts put in by the gentry in square caps: all being set down in that delicious Latin dialect that seems made for cases of this kind. But I believe that no less than a hundred witnesses were cited before my Lord Abbot and examined in his presence, and the clerks (there was a long row of them) wrote hard all the time and enjoyed it, for it was not often they had a chance of covering their yellow skins (of parchment I mean) with such curious histories, or of moistening their yellow lips to such good purpose as they still wrote on and on. And at Evensong time the great silver lamp that hung in the middle of the Chapter House was lighted and sconces also all round the walls, and the trial still proceeded while outside the Priory was a great multitude of people of all conditions and from all the coasts of Gwent waiting to hear sentence given. And all the while Sir Jenkin never moved, and would not answer a single question; but perhaps he knew it would be no good, and so held his tongue to save trouble. But if he held his tongue other people did not, for they felt that such a chance as this was too good to be lost, since it might never occur again and all sorts of interruptions to the real business took place, some of which were quite indecent. I believe that close upon Midnight a young Canonist put in an objection to the effect that a device of metal work, not having any soul nor principle of life, was incapable of being judged by the Ecclesiastical Law; whereupon there was first of all a terrible wrangle about the nature of the soul which gave the young Canonist his opportunity to read out Aristotle, Averroes, St. Denys the Areopagite, Erigena, St. Thomas d'Aquinas, Duns Scotus, Peter Lombard, &c., &c., till he had to be stopped by force, for he never would have stopped of his own accord. But my Lord Abbot made short work with this objection, proving syllogistically and illatively that nothing in the whole world was outside the Laws Ecclesiastical which go over everything like a blanket, and keep the earth warm. Indeed this remark of the young Canonist's was a very foolish one, and showed that he was fresh to his work. Finally, some time on the next morning, the judges held a short conference apart, and then they proceeded to the judgment which was delivered on these four Articles of the Bill of Accusation; namely:—
| I°. | That the accursed Knight Sir Jenkin Thomas, of the Tower was able to do what no man could do; much less a figure of metal, insomuch as he was proved to have often climbed over high walls, and burst open strong doors barred with iron. |
| II°. | That the accursed Knight aforesaid always caused them that beheld him to swoon away. |
| III°. | That the accursed Knight aforesaid had often intermeddled in the private affairs of religious men. |
| IV°. | That the accursed Knight aforesaid was able to be in two places at the same time; the which was a pernicious, hurtful and heretical practice, of itself very worthy of the stake. |
Now these four counts stood in the Bill as IX, XXXI, L, and LXXXIX respectively; there being in all a hundred charges against Sir Jenkin, but some of these were rather frivolous, so my Lord Abbot of Tintern, my Lord Abbot of Caerleon, my Lord Abbot of Grace-Dieu, and the Priors of Burgavenny, Uske, and Estrighoil directed the Clerk to strike out ninety-six counts, and then proceeded to give judgment upon the remaining four; and this reformation of the Articles was allowed by the Lawyers to be just and according to precedent. Then my Lord Abbot of Tintern stood up and everyone saw what a splendid man he was, tall and white-haired, with a glitter in the corner of his eyes. And he adjudged Sir Jenkin to be guilty of all these four charges, by the plain evidence of many persons freely given before the Court and by many depositions of people of every sort and condition, but notably by the deposition of the Baron of Burgavenny Lord Marcher of Wales, who had put himself and his clerk to much pains that the several circumstances might be made manifest to the Court, as they had fallen out. On the second count my lord Abbot spoke to the effect that this was evident art magic and diabolic contrivance, for the persons who had swooned, swooned not from fear of death (though perchance they themselves might think so) but rather from a trembling and awful dread stirred up in the breast of man when brought near to a demon. On the third count my Lord Abbot said that these acts of intermeddling with religious persons, and holy men of the Order of St. Benedict were further marks of Satan's handiwork, since none but a devil or one possessed of a devil would pester and annoy men sanctified and set apart for the service of God. And on the fourth account my Lord Abbot said that to be in two places at the same time was a noisome, hideous, and unutterable offense (scelus tetrum, horribile, et infandum) well worthy as the accuser had said, of fire and fagot. And Sir Jenkin being pronounced guilty of all these crimes was asked by the Clerk if he could show cause why sentence of combustion should not be pronounced against him, but gave no answer and sat quite still. Then the Abbot arose again and signed himself with the sign of our Holy Faith and condemned the Knight of the tower to be burned with fire, and presently, and in a place provided for that end hard by the quire of the Convent. Then Sir Jenkin was dragged out, and the people shouted with such a shout that for a week after they could not so much as whisper, so glad were they to see this bad Knight doomed to die, and he was chained to the stake, and an incredible pile of wood lighted all around him and below him, and in this sort he was burned with fire and the lump of metal that was found cast into a hole in the earth and covered up out of sight. And it is related that the monks of Llanthony heard the great shouting of the people when Sir Jenkin was brought forth, and looked toward Abergavenny and lo! the sky grew red as blood with the flame of the fire; and they certainly thought that the Welsh had stormed the Castle, were burning the town and slaughtering the people. And after this Abergavenny returned to its old ways of pleasantness and began to laugh again, and drink and make love without fear of Sir Jenkin or his horrid battle-axe, and indeed began to laugh at him in his turn, though nobody who had seen him at close-quarters did this. And the tower being stripped of its roof fell by degrees into decay, and in the course of a hundred years there was not one stone of it to be seen on its original position, but a great many stones of it might be seen in Abergavenny and the country round about, where they were doing duty in walls and houses, and indeed they were very special achiler stones, too good to pave the roads with. As to the Freemason's carven work of dragons and other beasts whereon he had set his damnable mark, by the earnest counsel of the Prior of Estrighoil it was smitten into powder and cast into the air; for this Prior had been in France and Spain and knew all the crafty tricks of the Prince of Darkness, who must be entirely brought low, or he will jump up again as frisky as ever he was before. And here I would end my tale were it not that the monk John de Ferula in his exact annals hath set down a report concerning these curious circumstances which I must tell you of, for I will imitate the good monk and leave nothing out. And this report was to the effect that the Prior, the Baron and the townsfolk, had one and all been most thoroughly and deliciously duped and deceived in this matter; for the whole affair was a piece of trickery contrived by a company of merry wags of the place, the sole end and aim of whose lives was to serve up bamboozlements, trumperies, balderdashes, impostures and beguilements to their fellow men, and their greatest delight to watch them digesting these gallimawfries and moreover concocting sauces of their own to make the dish yet more pleasant. And John de Ferula declares that these jokers of Burgavenny were bound together into a mystery or Corporate Body, with pass-words and secret signs, and that some of them were young esquires in the Baron's household, that some were monks, and some the sons of gentry in the town, so that they were verily and indeed able to be in a good many places at one and the same time, and had a perfect intelligence of all the pleasant treaties, Cyprian covenants, and amorous pacifications that were afoot. Thus with a suit of armor and a mask their designs were accomplished with great ease, and to ward off suspicion one of the company would now and again pretend the Knight had visited him; and some were for prolonging the trickery after Sir Jenkin had been burned, but 'twas judged wise to stop there for fear lest some one should pluck up a heart and tackle the demon with the carnal arm. And John de Ferula (some called him plain John Rodd) says that this waggish invention was engendered in the brain of one Sir Peter de Fontibus who was also of the Society called the Cwrw Dda (qui erat quoque Socius Societatis Bonæ Cervisiæ q. v. Cwrw Dda). But the exact annalist says openly that all this was mere rumour, not talked of or noised about till long after Sir Jenkin was burnt, and believed by very few and not at all by himself for, says he, I know that the Devil is very strong in Burgavenny, and to his malice there are no bounds. And the only circumstance that at all confirms this story is that Sir Peter de Fontibus aforesaid, who was a gentleman of consideration in the town, and was present at the famous trial of Sir Jenkin, was heard all the while to gurgle and make a clicking noise to himself, when the more curious circumstances were recited, but he was known to be tormented by defluctions of rheum to the teeth which caused him great anguish, and as at that time to grow purple in the face and twist his body to and fro. But I believe that it is true that this gentleman was of our Sokage: what say you Master Bamfylde, is it not so?
"Sir Peter de Fontibus," answered the Rubrican, "was without doubt of our Sokage, and in point of fact was called in Cervisage Ratabus the Powt, being the same that instituted the Charter of 'Thirsty Soil', as Dick Leonard will tell you. But if he did verily contrive the joyous trumpery, the which you have so choicely narrated to us, he left no record thereof, at the least none that I have seen; nor is it in the Red Book of Rabanus. But whom do you will should come after you in devising; for it is your part to choose a tale-teller?" "The next deviser," quoth I, "shall be Master Cook, for it wants but twenty minutes to noon, and there would be no time to tell another tale. But if this affair of the clock was indeed a piece of cozenage, as I believe it was, it is surely as choice a deceit as ever sprang from the fertile soil of old Siluria." Then Dick Leonard said: "What takes me most is the Court, with all the Abbots, Priors, and Decretalists, the row of parchment scrapers, and the officers of the ecclesiastical law, sitting all through the night under the silver lamp, digesting this fantastic lump of trickery and sending it down with the strong wine of their own imaginations." "Now let's dine," said I, "and though you will not have a feast like the banquet of the monks that Spigot Clerk hath so wittily delineated for us; yet my cook is a good disguiser of raw stuff, and a man of some invention, and for your drink I have a very sufficient Rhenish wine, in the which we will give a health to the waggish memory of Ratabus, who was called the Powt."