The office of mistress of a large household in the sixteenth century was no sinecure.  It was not the fashion then to depute to the hands of underlings the supervision of the details of domestic management; and though the lady of the Hall might later in the day entertain royalty itself, the early hours of the morning were spent in careful and busy scrutiny of kitchen, pantry, and store or still room, and her own fair hands knew much of the actual skill which was required in the preparation of the many compounds which graced the board at dinner or supper.

Lady Chadgrove was no exception to the general rule of careful household managers; and whilst her lord and master went hunting or hawking in the fresh morning air, or shut himself up in his library to examine into the accounts his steward laid before him or concern himself with some state business that might have been placed in his hands, she was almost always to be found in the offices of the house, looking well after the domestic details of household management, and seeing that each servant and scullion was doing the work appointed with steadiness and industry.

There was need for some such careful supervision of the daily routine, for the large houses in the kingdom were mainly dependent upon their own efforts for the necessaries of life throughout the year.  In towns there were shops where provisions could be readily bought, but no such institution as that of country shops had been dreamed of as yet.  The lord of the manor killed his own meat, baked his own bread, grew his own wheat, and ground his own flour.  He had his own brewery within the precinct of the great courtyard, where vast quantities of mead and ale were brewed, cider and other lighter drinks made, and even some sorts of simple home-grown wines.  Chad boasted its own “vineyard,” where grapes flourished in abundance, and ripened in the autumn as they will not do now.

Nothing, perhaps, shows more clearly the change that has passed upon our climate by slow degrees than a study of the parish records of ancient days.  Vineyards were common enough in England some hundreds of years ago, and wine was made from the produce as regularly as the season came round.  Then there were the simpler fruit wines from gooseberries, currants, and elderberries, to say nothing of cowslip wine and other light beverages which it was the pride of the mistress to contrive and to excel in the making.  Our forefathers, though they knew nothing of the luxuries of tea and coffee, were by no means addicted to the drinking of water.  Considering the sanitary conditions in which they lived in those days, and the fearful contamination of water which frequently prevailed, and which doubtless had much to do with the spread of the Black Death and other like visitations, this was no doubt an advantage.  Still there were drawbacks to the habit of constant quaffing of fermented drinks at all hours of the day, and it was often a difficult matter to keep in check the sin of drunkenness that prevailed amongst all classes of the people.

At Chad the gentle influence of the lady of the manor had done much to make this household an improvement on many of its neighbours.  Although there was always abundance of good things and a liberal hospitality to strangers of all sorts, it was not often that any unseemly roistering disturbed the inmates of Chad.  The servants and retainers looked up to their master and mistress with loyalty and devotion, curbed their animal passions and wilder moods out of love and reverence for them, and grew more civilized and cultivated almost without knowing it, until the wild orgies which often disgraced the followings of the country nobility were almost unknown here.

Possibly another humanizing and restraining influence that acted silently upon the household was the presence of a young monk, who had been brought not long since from a neighbouring monastery, to act in the capacity of chaplain to the household and tutor to the boys, now fast growing towards man’s estate.  There was a beautiful little chapel connected with Chad.  It had fallen something into neglect and ruin during the days of the civil wars, and had been battered about in some of the struggles that had raged round Chad.  But Sir Oliver had spent both money and loving care in restoring and beautifying the little place, and now the daily mass was said there by Brother Emmanuel, and the members of the household were encouraged to attend as often as their duties would permit.  The brother, too, would go about amongst the people and talk with them as they pursued their tasks, and not one even of the rudest and roughest but would feel the better for the kindly and beneficent influence of the youthful ecclesiastic.

Brother Emmanuel had one of those keenly intelligent and versatile minds that are always craving a wider knowledge, and think no knowledge, even of the humblest, beneath notice.  He would ask the poorest wood cutter to instruct him in the handling of his tool or in the simple mysteries of his craft as humbly as though he were asking instruction from one of the learned of the land.  No information, no occupation came amiss to him.  He saw in all toil a dignity and a power, and he strove to impress upon every worker, of whatever craft he might be, that to do his day’s work with all his might and with the best powers at his command was in truth one excellent way of serving God, and more effectual than any number of Paters and Aves said whilst idling away the time that should be given to his master’s service.

Such teaching might not be strictly orthodox from a monkish standpoint, but it commended itself to the understanding and the approval of simple folks; and the brother was none the less beloved and respected that his talk and his teaching did not follow the cut-and-dried rules of his order.  Sir Oliver and his wife thought excellently of the young man, and to the boys he was friend as well as tutor.

On this hot midsummer day the mistress of Chad was making her usual morning round of the kitchens and adjoining offices ­her simple though graceful morning robe, and the plain coif covering her hair, showing that she was not yet dressed for the duties which would engross her later in the day.  She had a great bunch of keys dangling at her girdle, and her tablets were in her hands, where from time to time she jotted down some brief note to be entered later in those household books which she kept herself with scrupulous care, so that every season she knew exactly how many gallons or hogsheads of mead or wine had been brewed, what had been the yield of every crop in the garden or meadow, what stores of conserves had been made from each fruit as its season came in, and whether that quantity had proved sufficient for the year’s consumption.

The cherry crop was being gathered in today.  Huge baskets of the delicious fruit were ranged along one wall of the still room, and busy hands were already preparing the bright berries for the preserving pan or the rows of jars that were likewise placed in readiness to receive them.  The cherry trees of Chad were famous for their splendid crop, and the mistress had many wonderful recipes and preparations by which the fruit was preserved and made into all manner of dainty conserves that delighted all who partook of them.

“I will come anon, and help you with your task,” said the lady to the busy wenches in the still room, who were hard at work preparing the fruit.  “I will return as soon as I have made my round, and see that all is going well.”

The girls smiled, and dropped their rustic courtesies.  Some amongst them were not the regular serving maids of the place, but were the daughters of the humbler retainers living round and about, who were glad to come to assist at the great house when there was any press of work ­a thing that frequently happened from April to November.

None who assisted at Chad at such times ever went away empty handed.  Besides the small wage given for the work done, there was always a basket of fruit, or a piece of meat, or a flagon of wine, according to the nature of the task, set aside for each assistant who did not dwell beneath the roof of Chad.  And if there was sickness in any cottage from which a worker came, there was certain to be some little delicacy put into a basket by the hands of the mistress, and sent with a kindly word of goodwill and sympathy to the sufferer.

It was small wonder, then, that the household and community of Chad was a happy and peaceable one, or that the knight and his lady were beloved of all around.

The morning’s round was no sinecure, even though the mistress was today as quick as possible in her visit of inspection.  Three fat bucks had been brought in from the forest yester-eve, when the knight and his sons had returned from hunting.  The venison had to be prepared, and a part of it dried and salted down for winter use; whilst of course a great batch of pies and pasties must be put in hand, so that the most should be made of the meat whilst it was still fresh.

When that matter had been settled, there were the live creatures to visit ­the calves in their stalls, the rows of milch kine, and the great piggery, where porkers of every kind and colour were tumbling about in great excitement awaiting their morning meal.  The mistress of the house generally saw the pigs fed each day, to insure their having food proper to them, and not the offal and foul remnants that idle servants loved to give and they to eat were not some supervision exercised.  The care of dogs and horses the lady left to her husband and sons, but the cows, the pigs, and the poultry she always looked after herself.

Her daily task accomplished, she returned to the still room, prepared for a long morning over her conserves.  It was but half-past nine now; for the breakfast hour in baronial houses was seven all the year round, and today had been half-an-hour earlier on account of the press of work incident to the harvesting of the cherry crop.  Several of the servants who were generally occupied about the house had risen today with the lark, to be able to help their lady, and soon a busy, silent party was working in pantry and still room under the careful eye of the mistress.

One old woman who had been accommodated with a chair, though her fingers were as brisk as any of the younger girls’, from time to time addressed a question or a remark to her lady, which was always kindly answered.  She was the old nurse of Chad, having been nurse to Sir Oliver in his infancy, and having since had charge of his three boys during their earliest years.  She was growing infirm now, and seldom left her own little room in a sunny corner of the big house, where her meals were taken her by one of the younger maids.  But in the warm weather, when her stiff limbs gained a little more power, she loved on occasion to come forth and take a share in the life of the house, and work with the busy wenches under the mistress’s eye at the piles of fruit from the successive summer and autumn crops as they came in rotation.

“And where be the dear children?” she asked once; “I have not set eyes on them the livelong day.  Methought the very smell of the cherries would have brought them hither, as bees and wasps to a honey pot.”

The lady smiled slightly.

“I doubt not they will be here anon; but doubtless they have paid many visits to the trees ere the store was garnered.  I think they are in the tilt yard with Warbel.  It is there they are generally to be found in the early hours of the day.”

“They be fine, gamesome lads,” said the old woman fondly ­“chips of the old block, true Chads every one of them;” for the custom with the common people was to call the lord of the manor by the name of his house rather than by his own patronymic, and Sir Oliver was commonly spoken of as “Chad” by his retainers; a custom which lingered long in the south and west of the country.

“They are well-grown, hearty boys,” answered the mother quietly, though there was a light of tender pride in her eyes.  “Bertram is almost a man in looks, though he is scarce seventeen yet.  Seventeen!  How time flies!  It seems but yesterday since he was a little boy standing at my knee to say his light tasks, and walking to and fro holding his father’s hand.  Well, Heaven be praised, the years have been peaceful and prosperous, else would not they have fled by so swiftly.”

“Heaven be praised indeed!” echoed the old woman.  “For now the master is so safely seated at Chad that he would be a bold man who tried to oust him.  But in days gone by I have sorely feared yon proud Lord of Mortimer.  Methought he would try to do him a mischief.  His spleen and spite, as all men say, are very great.”

The lady’s face clouded slightly, but her reply was quiet and calm.

“I fear me they are that still; but he lacks all cause of offence.  My good lord is careful in all things to avoid making ill blood with a jealous neighbour.  That he has always cast covetous eyes upon Chad is known throughout the countryside; but I trow he would find it something difficult to make good any claim.”

“Why, verily!” cried the nurse, with energy.  “He could but come as a foul usurper, against whom would every honest hand be raised.  But, good my mistress, what is the truth of the whisper I have heard that the Lord of Mortimer has wed his daughter to one who calls himself of the house of Chad?  I cannot believe that any of the old race would mate with a Mortimer.  Is it but the idle gossip of the ignorant? or what truth is there in it?”

“I scarce know myself the rights of the matter,” answered Lady Chadgrove, still with a slight cloud upon her brow.  “It is certainly true that Lord Mortimer has lately wed his only child, a daughter, to a knight who calls himself Sir Edward Chadwell, and makes claim to be descended from my lord’s house.  Men say that he makes great boasting that the Chadwells are an older branch than the Chadgroves, and that by right of inheritance Chad is his.

“Methinks he would find it very hard to make good any such claim.  Belike it is but idle boasting.  Yet it may be that there will be some trouble in store.  He has taken up his abode at Mortimer’s Keep, and maybe we shall hear ill news before long.”

All eyes were fixed for a moment on the lady’s face, and then the hands moved faster than before, whilst a subdued murmur went round the group.  Not one heart was there that did not beat with indignation at the thought that any should dare to try to disturb the peace of the rightful lord of Chad.  If the loyalty and affection of all around would prove a safeguard, the knight need have no fear from the claims advanced by any adversary.

“There has been a muttering of coming tempest anent those vexed forest rights,” continued the lady, in reply to some indignant words from the nurse.  “I would that difficult question could be settled and laid at rest; but my good lord has yielded something too much already for the sake of peace and quietness, and at each concession Mortimer’s word was passed that he would claim no further rights over the portion that remained to us.  But his word is broken without scruple, and we cannot ever be giving way.  Were no stand to be made, the whole forest track would soon be claimed by Mortimer, and we should have nothing but the bare park that is fenced about and cannot be filched bit by bit away.  But all the world knows that Chad has forest rights equal to those of Mortimer.  It is but to seek a quarrel that the baron continues to push his claims ever nearer and nearer our walls.”

Another murmur of indignation went round; but there was no time for further talk, as at that moment the three boys entered from the tilt yard; hot, thirsty, and breathless, and the fair-haired lad with the dreamy blue eyes held a kerchief to his head that was stained with blood.

“Art hurt, Edred?” asked the mother, looking up.

“’Tis but a scratch,” answered the boy.  “I am not quite a match for Bertram yet; but I will be anon.  I must learn to be quicker in my defence.  Thanks, gentle mother; belike it will be better for it to be bound up.  It bleeds rather too fast for comfort, but thy hands will soon stop that.”

The other boys fell upon the fruit with right good will, whilst the mother led her second son to the small pump nigh at hand, and bathed and dressed the rather ugly wound in his head.

Neither mother nor son thought anything of the hurt.  It was easy enough to give and receive hard blows in the tilt yard, and bruises and cuts were looked upon as part of the discipline of life.

As soon as the dressing was over, Edred joined his brothers, and did his share in diminishing the pile of luscious fruit.  And as they ate they chattered away to the old woman of their prowess in tilt yard and forest, relating how Bertram had slain a fat buck with his own hands the previous day, and how they had between them given the coup-de-grace to another, which had been brought to bay at the water, father and huntsmen standing aloof to let the boys show their strength and skill.

Nine years had passed since that strange night when Bertram had been awakened by the advent of the mysterious stranger at his bedside.  He had developed since then from a sturdy little boy into a fine-grown youth of seventeen, who had in his own eyes, and in the eyes of many others, well-nigh reached man’s estate; and who would, if need should arise, go forth equipped for war to fight the king’s battles.  He was a handsome, dark-haired, dark-eyed youth, with plenty of determination and force of character, and with a love of Chad so deeply rooted in his nature, that to be the heir of that property seemed to him the finest position in all the world, and he would not have exchanged it for that of Prince of Wales.

The second son, Edred (Ethelred was his true name; he was called after his mother, Etheldred), was some half-head shorter than his brother, but a fine boy for all that.  He was fifteen, and whilst sharing to a great extent in the love of sport and of warlike games so common in that day, he was also a greater lover of books than his brothers, and would sometimes absent himself from their pastimes to study with Brother Emmanuel and learn from him many things that were not written in books.  The other lads gave more time to study than was usual at that period; for both Sir Oliver and his lady believed in the value of book lore and the use of the pen, deploring the lack of learning that had prevailed during the confusion of the late wars, and greatly desiring its revival.  But it was Edred who really inherited the scholarly tastes of his parents, and already the question of making a monk of him was under serious discussion.  The boy thought that if he might have a few more years of liberty and enjoyment he should like the life of the cloister well.

Julian bore a strong resemblance to Bertram both in person and disposition.  He was a very fine boy, nearly fourteen years old, and had been the companion of his brothers from infancy, so that he often appeared older than his age.  All three brothers were bound together in bonds of more than wonted affection.  They not only shared their sports and studies, but held almost all their belongings in common.  Each lad had his own horse and his own weapons, whilst Edred had one or two books over which he claimed absolute possession; but for the rest, they enjoyed all properties in common, and it had hardly entered into their calculations that they could ever be separated, save when the idea of making Edred into a monk came under discussion; and as that would not be done for some years, it scarcely seemed worth troubling over now.  Perhaps things would turn out differently in the end, and they would remain together at Chad for the whole of their natural lives.

Nurse never wearied of the tales told by her young masters, and listened with fond pride to the recital.  So eagerly were Bertram and Julian talking, that they did not heed the sound of the horn at the gate way which bespoke the arrival of some messenger; but Edred slipped out to see who could be coming, and presently he returned with a frown upon his brow.

“There is a messenger at the gate who wears the livery of Mortimer,” he said.  “An insolent knave to boot, who flung his missive in the face of old Ralph, and spurred off with a mocking laugh.  I would I had had my good steed between my knees, and I would have given the rascal a lesson in manners.  I like not these messengers from Mortimer; they always betide ill will to my father.”

Lady Chadgrove looked anxious for a moment, but her brow soon cleared as she made answer:  “I shall be sorry if aught comes to grieve or vex your father; but so long as we are careful to give no just cause for offence, we need not trouble our heads overmuch as to the jealous anger of the Lord of Mortimer.  I misdoubt me if he can really hurt us, be he never so vindictive.  The king is just, and he values the services of your father.  He will not permit him to be molested without cause.  And methinks my Lord of Mortimer knows as much, else he would have wrought us more ill all these past years.”

“He is a tyrant and an evil liver!” cried Bertram hotly; “and his servants be drunken, brawling knaves, every one ­as insolent as their master.  If I had been old Ralph, I would have hurled back his missive in his face, and bidden him deliver it rightly.”

“Nay, nay, my son; that would but be to stir up strife.  If others comport themselves ill, that is no reason why our servants should do the like.  I would never give a foe a handle against me by the ill behaviour of even a serving man.  Let them act never so surlily, I would that they were treated with all due courtesy.”

Bertram and Julian hardly entered into their mother’s feelings on this point; but Edred looked up eagerly, and it was plain that he understood the feelings which prompted the words, for he said in a low voice: 

“Methinks thou art right, gentle mother; albeit I did sorely long to give the varlet a lesson to teach him better.  But perchance it was well I was not nigh enough.  Surely it must be nigh upon the hour for dinner.  Our sport has whet the edge of appetite, and I would fain hear what the missive was which yon knave brought with him.  Our father will doubtless tell us at the table.”

It was indeed nearly noon, and mistress and maids alike relinquished their tasks to prepare for the meal which was the chiefest of the day, though the supper was nothing to be despised.

The long table in the great banqueting hall was a goodly sight to see when the dinner was spread, and the retainers of the better sort and some amongst the upper servants sat down with the master and his family to partake of the good cheer.  At one end of the long board sat the knight and his lady side by side; to their right were the three boys, the young monk, and Warbel the armourer, who now held a post of some importance in the house.  Opposite to these were other gentlemen-at-arms and their sons, who were resident at Chad; and at the lower end of the table, below the great silver salt cellars, sat the seneschal, the lowlier retainers, and certain trusted servants who held responsible positions at Chad.  The cooks and scullions and underlings dined in the great kitchen immediately after their masters’ meal had been served.

The table at Chad always groaned with good things, except at such seasons as the Church decreed a fast, and then the diet was scrupulously kept within the prescribed bounds.  Sir Oliver and his wife were both devout and earnest people, and had every reverence for their spiritual superiors.  The Benedictine Priory of Chadwater stood only a mile and a half distant, and the prior was on excellent terms with the owner of Chad.  Brother Emmanuel had been an inmate of the priory before he was selected by Sir Oliver for the education of his sons.  He was considered a youth of no small promise, and the knight was well pleased at the progress made by his boys since they had been studying with him.

Today there was a look of annoyance upon the handsome face of Sir Oliver Chadgrove.  It was a striking countenance at all times, in which sternness of purpose and kindness of heart were blended in a fashion that was both attractive and unusual.  He had the same regular features, rather square in the outline, which he had transmitted to his children; and his hair, which was now silvered with many streaks, had been raven black in its day.  His carriage was upright and fearless, and he was very tall and powerfully proportioned.  It was Bertram’s keenest ambition to grow up in all points like his father, and he copied him, consciously and unconsciously, in a fashion that often raised a smile on his mother’s face.

“I have been favoured with another insolent letter from my Lord of Mortimer,” he said.  “He had better take heed that he try not my patience too far, and that I go not to the king and lay a complaint before him.  I will do so if I be much more troubled.”

“What says he now, father?” asked Bertram eagerly, forgetting in his eagerness the generally observed maxim that the sons spoke not at table till they were directly addressed.  But the knight did not himself heed this breach of decorum.

“It is the same old story; but every year he grows more grasping and more insolent.  Today he complains, forsooth, that the last buck we killed was killed on his ground, and by rights belonged to him.  He threatens that his foresters and huntsmen will wage war with us in future if we ‘trespass’ upon his rights, and wrest our spoil from us!  Beshrew me if I submit to much more!  Patience and forbearance are useless with such a man.  I would I had not conceded all I have done in the interests of peace.”

Bertram’s face was crimson with anger, Edred’s eyes had widened in astonishment, whilst Julian burst out in indignant remonstrance and argument.

“His ground! his rights!  How can he dare say that?  Why, the buck was killed at Juno’s Pool; and all the world knows that that is within the confines of Chad, and that all forest rights there belong to the Lord of Chad!  I would I could force his false words down his false throat!  I would I could ­” but the boy suddenly ceased, because he caught his mother’s warning eye upon him, and saw that his father had opened his lips to speak.

“Ay, and he knows it himself as well as we do; but he is growing bolder and bolder through that monstrous claim he is ever threatening to push ­the claim of his son-in-law to be rightful Lord of Chad!  Phew! he will find it hard to prove that claim, or to oust the present lord.  But Mortimer has money and to spare, and Chad has long been to him what Naboth’s vineyard was to King Ahab ­

“Brother Emmanuel, that simile is thine, and a right good one, too.

“He will seize on any pretext to pick a quarrel; and if he dares, he will push that quarrel at the point of the sword.  I do not fear him; I have the right on my side.  But we may not blind ourselves to this:  that he is a right bitter and treacherous foe, and that should we give any, even the smallest cause of suspicion or offence, he would seize upon that to ruin us.”

Sir Oliver looked keenly round the table at all assembled there, and many knew better than his sons what was in his mind at the time and what had caused him to speak thus.

For a long while now the leaven of Lollardism had been working silently in the country, and there were very many even amongst orthodox sons of the Church who were more or less “bitten” by some of the new notions.  It need hardly be said that wherever light is, it will penetrate in a mysterious and often inexplicable fashion; and although there was much extravagance and perversion in the teachings of the advanced Lollards, there was undoubtedly amongst them a far clearer and purer light than existed in the hearts of those of the common people who had been brought up beneath the sway of the priests, themselves so often ignorant and ill-living men.

And so the light gradually spread; and many who would have repudiated the name of Lollard with scorn and loathing were beginning to hold some of their tenets, and to wish for a simpler and purer form of faith, and for liberty to study the Scriptures for themselves; and no one knew better the leavening spirit of the age than did Sir Oliver Chadgrove, himself a man of liberal views and devout habit of mind, and his wife, who shared his every thought and opinion.

They had both heard the stirring and enlightened preaching of Dean Colet, and were great admirers of his; but they took the view that that divine himself held ­namely, that the Church would gradually reform herself from within; that she was awakening to the need of some reformation and advance; and that her sons were safe within her fold, and must patiently await her own work there.

This was exactly the feeling of the knight and his lady.  They rejoiced in the words they had heard, and in the wider knowledge of the Scriptures which had been thus unfolded; but that any such doctrine, when preached and taught by the Lollard heretics, could be right or true they would have utterly denied and repudiated.  The Lollards had won for themselves a bad name, and were thought of with scorn and contempt.  Nevertheless, in country places the leaven of their teaching permeated far and wide, and Sir Oliver had more than once occasion to fear that amongst his own retainers some were slightly tainted by heresy.

Of course if it could be proved against him that his followers were Lollards, his enemy might take terrible advantage and deal him a heavy blow.  It was the one charge which if proved would strike him to the earth; even the king’s favour would scarce serve him then.  The king would not stand up in opposition to the Church; and if the Church condemned his house as being a harbouring place for heretics, then indeed he would be undone.

It was this thing which was in his mind as he glanced with keen eyes round his table on this bright midsummer day; and his wife, and the monk, and the bulk of those sitting there read the true meaning of his words and of his look, and recognized the truth of the grave word of warning.