CHAPTER XXVII. HOW ROGER CLUB-FOOT WAS PASSED INTO PARADISE.

eboth,sothatcomewhatmayheshallbesecure.Iprayyouthatyouwillbuyone,forwarisbloodywork,andtheendissuddenwithlittletimeforthoughtorshrift.Oryou,sir,foryouseemtometobeamanwhowoulddoilltotrusttoyourownmerits.”ThistothealdermanofNorwich,whohadlistenedtohimwithafrowningbrowandasneeringlip. “WhenIsellmycloth,”quothhe,“hewhobuysmayweighandfeelandhandle.Thesegoodswhichyousellarenottobeseen,noristhereanyproofthatyouholdthem.Certes,ifmortalmanmightcontrolGod'smercy,itwouldbeoneofaloftyandGod-likelife,andnotonewhoisdeckedoutwithringsandchainsandsilks,likeapleasure-wenchatakermesse. “Thouwickedandshamelessman!”criedtheclerk.“DostthoudaretoraisethyvoiceagainsttheunworthyservantofmotherChurch?” “Unworthyenough!”quothDavidMicheldene.“Iwouldhaveyoutoknow,clerk,thatIamafreeEnglishburgher,andthatIdaresaymymindtoourfatherthePopehimself,letalonesuchalacquey'slacqueyasyou!” “Base-bornandfoul-mouthedknave!”criedthesompnour.“Youprateofholythings,towhichyourhog'smindcanneverrise.Keepsilence,lestIcallacurseuponyou!” “Silenceyourself!”roaredtheother.“Foulbird!wefoundtheebythegallowslikeacarrion-crow.Afinelifethouhastofitwiththysilksandthybaubles,cozeningthelastfewshillingsfromthepouchesofdyingmen.Afigforthycurse!Bidehere,ifyouwilltakemyrede,forwewillmakeEnglandtoohotforsuchasyou,whenMasterWicliffhastheorderingofit.Thouvilethief!itisyou,andsuchasyou,whobringanevilnameuponthemanychurchmenwholeadapureandaholylife.Thououtsidethedoorofheaven!Artmoreliketobeinsidethedoorofhell.” Atthiscrowninginsultthesompnour,withafaceashenwithrage,raisedupaquiveringhandandbeganpouringLatinimprecationsupontheangryalderman.Thelatter,however,wasnotamantobequelledbywords,forhecaughtuphisell-measuresword-sheathandbelaboredthecursingclerkwithit.Thelatter,unabletoescapefromtheshowerofblows,setspurstohismuleandrodeforhislife,withhisenemythunderingbehindhim.Atsightofhismaster'ssuddendeparture,thevarletWatkinsetoffafterhim,withthepack-mulebesidehim,sothatthefourclatteredawaydowntheroadtogether,untiltheysweptroundacurveandtheirbabblewasbutadroneinthedistance.SirNigelandAlleynegazedinastonishmentatoneanother,whileFordburstouta-laughing. “Pardieu!”saidtheknight,“thisDavidMicheldenemustbeoneofthoseLollardsaboutwhomFatherChristopheroftheprioryhadsomuchtosay.YetheseemedtobenobadmanfromwhatIhaveseenofhim.” “IhaveheardthatWicliffhathmanyfollowersinNorwich,”answeredAlleyne. “BySt.Paul!Ihavenogreatloveforthem,”quothSirNigel.“Iamamanwhoamslowtochangeand,ifyoutakeawayfrommethefaiththatIhavebeentaught,itwouldbelongereIcouldlearnonetosetinitsplace.Itisbutachiphereandachipthere,yetitmaybringthetreedownintime.Yet,ontheotherhand,IcannotbutthinkitshamethatamanshouldturnGod'smercyonandoff,asacellarmandothwinewithaspigot.” “Norisit,”saidAlleyne,“partoftheteachingsofthatmotherChurchofwhichhehadsomuchtosay.Therewassoothinwhatthealdermansaidofit.” “Then,bySt.Paul!theymaysettleitbetwixtthem,”quothSirNigel.“Forme,IserveGod,thekingandmyladyandsolongasIcankeepthepathofhonorIamwellcontent.MycreedshalleverbethatofChandos: “Faiscequedois—adviegnequepeut, C'estcommandeauchevalier.”