Perhaps it was the memory of those spiteful and malicious glances bent upon his preceptor by Brother Fabian that suggested to Edred upon the day following to pay a visit to the secret chamber that had once before so well sheltered a helpless fugitive.

The secret of that chamber still remained with the three boys and their faithful esquire, Warbel.  To no other living soul in the house had any of these four ever named the matter.  The boys might not have been able to give any reason for this reticence towards their parents, but the fact remained that they had never revealed the secret to them, and that although tradition still spoke of a cleverly-masked chamber somewhere at Chad, it was now popularly supposed to have been in that part of the house which had boon demolished during the Wars of the Roses.  Children did not chatter to their parents in days of old as they do now.  They might love them never so well, but they held them in reverence and even in awe.  They were silent in their presence, as a rule, unless spoken to first, and the habit of conversational intimacy did not grow up until a much later period in their lives.  Thus the adventures of Warbel, and his strange midnight visit to their bedchamber, had never been told to Sir Oliver or his wife.  All they knew was that the man had taken refuge from the anger of the Lord of Mortimer in one of their woodmen’s huts.  They were glad to give him shelter and employment at Chad, and had never regretted the hospitality extended to him; for he had proved the most faithful of servants, and his devotion to the boys was so great that they could be trusted anywhere in his keeping.

As for the anger of his proud neighbour, Sir Oliver had made light of that.  The Lord of Mortimer could not make any thing out of so small a matter, and at that time had other more weighty affairs on hand.  Warbel’s stories to his fellows of the harshness and tyrannical rule at Mortimer made his own servants more loyal and stanch than ever.  Chad was a peaceable and happy abode for all its inmates, and the need for secret hiding places had so far never arisen.

The boys in years gone by had almost regretted this fact.  They had pictured so vividly how they would hide their father or some friend of his in this secret chamber, should peril menace them from any quarter, that it had seemed sometimes almost a pity that so secure a hiding place should be of so little use, when it might have done such excellent service had the need arisen.

However, as years sped by and the lads began to know more of life, they ceased to regret that the secret chamber remained without an occupant.  From time to time they visited it, swept out the dust and cobwebs that had accumulated there, and bit by bit collected a few more odds and ends of furniture, so that the place now wore a look of greater comfort and habitation than it had done when they saw it first.

Once when Edred had been laid up by an accident to his foot, he had amused himself by making a number of feather pillows from the feathers of the birds his brothers shot and brought home to him.  These feathers were dressed in the proper way by the boys themselves, and then made up into large pillows or cushions, which were then taken up to the secret chamber (at that time the favourite hobby of the boys), in order to make restful and comfortable the hard pallet bed, in case any fugitive were forced to take shelter there.  In the same way had several rudely-made rugs, formed of the skins of wild bears taken in the woods, and tanned by the boys in a fashion of their own, found their way thither; and altogether the place had assumed an aspect of some comfort and even luxury, although it was now several years since any further additions had been made to its plenishings.

Edred looked round the strange apartment with a thoughtful air as he emerged into it from the long, dark, twisting passage he had threaded with the security of one to whom every winding and turn was known.  It was dim and dark there, but sufficient light filtered in through cracks and cleverly-contrived apertures to render it easy to move about; and when the eye grew used to the dimness, everything could be seen with pretty fair distinctness.

“It would not be a bad hiding place,” mused the boy, speaking half aloud.  “Methinks over there one could even read without much trouble.  Yes, without doubt one could; and that crack might be judiciously enlarged without any peril.  It does but give upon the leads behind the main chimney stack, and the tiles would cover any aperture I made.”

He took out his large hunting knife from his girdle as he spoke, and worked away awhile in silence.  Very soon he had considerably added to the amount of light in the strange room.  He eyed his handiwork with considerable satisfaction.

“That is better.  It would be something gloomy to be shut up here without light enough to study by; but with books and food one might spend many a week here and not be overwhelmed with dullness.  The place is something straight, to be sure, and there is bare room for a tall man to stand upright.”

Edred drew himself to his full height, and found that his head did not quite reach the beams which formed the ceiling.

“I trow Brother Emmanuel could just stand; he is not greatly taller than I. And he is marvellous contented with a very little, and has been used to passing days and weeks in the solitude of his cell.  Sure this would not be to him an evil place.  If he had but a book or two and the needful food, he would be vastly content.

“I wonder if he can be in any sort of peril.  I liked not the looks or the words of you malicious monk.  Our father and mother often say that these be times when men must walk warily, and ofttimes they tell of godly men even in high places who have fallen into disgrace and been accused of fearful sins.  It is not safe in these days to have for enemies those who are within the pale of the Church ­monks and priors, men who are held up as examples and models of true faith and piety.

“I know not whether they merit the praise men give to them.  Methinks Brother Emmanuel could teach them many things both in precept and practice.  But it is not for me to be the judge in such matters; yet if he were in any kind of peril, I would lay down my life to save him!”

The boy’s eyes kindled at the thought.  He cherished for his preceptor an ardent and enthusiastic love, and he had his share of that chivalrous devotion and self-sacrifice which has been the brightest ornament of days that have much of darkness and cruelty to disgrace them.

His face wore a very earnest look as he set about his homely task of cleaning and setting in order this secret chamber.  He was more than two hours over his task, for he went through it with unwonted energy.  The place looked almost tempting before he had done with it, and he looked about him with satisfied eyes at the close of his labours.

There was a convenient spout, meant to carry off the rain water from the complex level of the old roof, which made an excellent substitute for a dust shoot.  It could be got at from this place without difficulty, and Edred shot down his rubbish without any trouble through a funnel-like piece of wood he and his brothers had contrived for the purpose many years before.  Then he stood quite still at the aperture whence the soft breeze came blowing in, lost in thought.

“It doth get very hot here in the summer days,” he remarked, “and in especial at this end of the room, where it abuts upon the leads.  It is cooler yonder, but then it is also darker.  The air and the light come in at this side, but so does the heat likewise.  And how thirsty one gets, too!  My throat is parched and dry.  I mind me how poor Warbel suffered in like manner when he was here.  Food could be brought in without trouble.  I will amass even now by slow degrees some of those hard oaten cakes that keep good for weeks, and some salted venison that would last the winter through.

“But water ­how could that be brought?  Suppose that we too were watched; suppose we dared not go through the secret door?  What would become of the prisoner?

“I must talk to Bertram and Julian about that.  Bertram has a wonderful gift for getting out of such difficulties; he has a marvellous quick wit.  We never thought in old days how the water was to be conveyed; we thought a few bottles of wine would last a lifetime.  But to die of thirst would be worse than to face one’s foes.  I shall not really rest till I have thought how such a danger might be guarded against.”

Edred left the place with a thoughtful air.  He gained their own long sleeping room without adventure.  Nobody was ever there at this hour of the day, and he sat down on his bed to think and plan.

There his brothers found him later when they came rushing up tumultuously to find him.

“Ha! thou art there.  We have been seeking thee everywhere.  What hast thou been doing, brother?”

“I have been up to the room,” answered the boy.  “I have been making it all ready.  I was something disturbed by what chanced yester-afternoon.  I told thee of Brother Fabian and his evil looks?”

The other two nodded.

“Yes, verily; but they be brothers of one fraternity.  Surely one Benedictine would not hurt another?”

“I know not that.  I was talking this day with Warbel.  He has been about in the world.  He has seen priests and monks accused of heresy the one by the other; and none are so fearfully persecuted as those who wear the tonsure, if men do but suspect them of that sin.

“Brother Emmanuel a heretic!” cried Bertram, with flashing eyes.  “I would force the word down the false throat of any who dared to say so!  Brother Emmanuel is a right holy man.  Art thou mad, Edred, to think such a thing?”

The boy shook his head doubtfully.

“I would I were,” he replied; “but methinks Brother Emmanuel himself thinks that peril may menace him.  I understand not rightly these matters; but I saw that yesterday upon his face which showed me that he felt he stood something in peril, albeit he has no fear.  He is not of the stuff of which cowards are made.”

Julian’s eyes were wide with affright.

“They say the Lollards and heretics are to be sought out and burned, and that right soon,” he said, in low, awe-struck tones.  “Some of our people heard it today from those at Mortimer.  The Lord of Mortimer has become very zealous to help the priests and monks to scent out all suspected of heresy and make a great example of them.

“Edred, thou dost not think they will take Brother Emmanuel ­and ­burn ­him?”

The last words were little more than a whisper.

“I will die sooner than see it done!” cried the boy passionately.  “But in these days no man may say who is safe.  Therefore went I up to the chamber this very day to set it in order;” and then he told his brothers of the difficulty that had beset him there, and how he felt no security for any person in hiding there so long as the difficulty of conveying water to him remained so great.

Bertram grasped the situation in a moment.  He well knew that if any person were suspected of lying hidden in the house, a close watch might well be kept upon every member of the household, and that it might be hard indeed to pay more than a very occasional visit to the prisoner.  If, for instance, suspicion were to fall upon the boys in this matter, it would be probable they would be placed under some restraint; they might be carried off to the priory and forced to do some penance there.  It would never do for the prisoner to be entirely dependent upon them for supplies of the precious commodity; and yet what else was to be done?

“I must think about it,” cried Bertram.  “I shall never rest till I have thought of some method.  Would we had not left it so long!  We have had all these years to make our plans, and we have never thought of this thing till trouble seems like to be at the very doors.

“Still it may but be our fantasy.  Neither Brother Emmanuel nor any other may need the shelter of this room.  We will trust it may be so.

“Yet I will cudgel my brains for a plan.  It would be a fearful thing to know him to be shut up here, and yet to be unable to visit him with the necessaries of life.  How poor Warbel drank when he issued forth that night.  Methinks I see him now.  One would have thought he had never tasted water before.”

“But we came not to talk of all this,” interrupted Julian, who had been evincing a few signs of impatience latterly; “we came to tell of the fair held today and tomorrow at Chadwick.  Our father says we may go thither tomorrow if we will.  Warbel says they will bait a bull, and perhaps a bear; and that there will be fighting with the quarterstaff and shooting with cross and long bow, and many other like spectacles.  He will attend us, and we may be off with the light of day, an we will.  That is what we came to tell thee, Edred.”

Edred was boy enough to be well pleased at this news.  Any variety in the day’s round was pleasing to the lads, who found life a little monotonous, albeit pleasant enough.  It was a relief, too, to turn from grave thoughts and anxious forebodings to the anticipation of simpler pleasures, and the boys all ran to seek Warbel and ask him what these village fairs were like; for they had been much interrupted during the recent wars, and only now that peace had been for some years established did they begin to revive and gain their old characteristics.

At break of day on the morning following, the little party started forth on foot to walk the five miles which separated them from the village of Chadwick.  It was a pleasant enough walk through the green forest paths before the heat of the day had come.  The three boys and Warbel headed the party, and were followed by some eight or ten men of various degree, some bent on a day’s pleasure for themselves, others there with a view of attending upon their master’s sons.

Bertram felt that he could have dispensed with any attendance save that of Warbel; but Sir Oliver had given his own orders.  With so powerful and jealous a neighbour within easy reach of the village, he felt bound to be careful of his children.  They were but striplings after all, and doubtless his unscrupulous neighbour would be delighted to hold one or more as a hostage should excuse arise for opening hostilities of any kind.  He knew well the unscrupulous character of the man with whom he had to deal, and he acted with prudence and foresight accordingly.

The little village when reached proved to be all en fête.  Rude arches of greenery crossed every pathway to the place, and all the people had turned out in their holiday dresses upon the green to join in the dances and see the sights.  There was a miracle play going on in one place, repeated throughout the day to varying groups of spectators.  In another corner some rude gipsy juggling was to be seen, at which the rustic yokels gazed with wondering eyes.  There were all the usual country games in full swing; and the baiting of a great bull, which was being led to the centre of the green, attracted the attention of the bulk of the spectators, and drew them away from other sports.  The actors in the miracle play threw off their dresses to come and witness this delightful pastime, and hardly any of those present seemed to regard for a moment the sufferings of the poor brute, or the savage nature of the whole performance.

Edred, however, belonged to that very small minority, and whilst his two brothers pressed into the ring, he wandered away elsewhere to see what was to be seen.  His attention was attracted by a little knot of persons gathered together under the shade of a great oak tree, rather far away from the green that was the centre of attraction.  The shade looked inviting, now that the heat was growing greater, and the boy felt some curiosity to know what was the attraction which kept this little group so compact and quiet.  On the green were shouting and yelling and noise of every description; but Edred could hear no sound of any kind proceeding from this little group till he approached quite near, and then he was aware of the sound of a single voice speaking in low tones and very earnestly.

When he got nearer still he saw that the speaker was a little hunchback, and that he had in his hand a small book from which he was reading aloud to the people about him.  And this fact surprised the boy not a little, for it was very unusual for any person in the lower ranks of life to be able to read; and yet this man was evidently in poor circumstances, for his clothes were shabby and his hands were hardened by manual toil.

Drawing nearer in great curiosity, Edred became aware that what the hunchback was reading was nothing more or less than a part of the gospel narrative in the English tongue, to which the people about him were listening in amazement, and with keen curiosity and attention.

Edred was familiar enough with the Latin version of the Scriptures, and had studied them under the guidance of Brother Emmanuel with great care and attention; but he had never yet heard the words read out in their entirety in his native tongue, and he was instantly struck and fascinated by the freshness and suggestiveness of the familiar language when used for this purpose.  He was conscious that it gave to the words a new life and meaning; that it seemed, as it were, to drive them home to the heart in a new fashion, and to make them the property of the listener as they could never be when a dead language was used as the medium of expression.  He felt a strange thrill run through him as the story of Calvary was thus read in the low, impassioned tones of the hunchback; and he was not surprised to see that tears were running down many faces, and that several women could hardly restrain their sobs.

Now and again the hunchback paused and added a few explanatory words of his own; now and again he broke forth into a rhapsody not lacking in a certain rude eloquence, in which he besought his hearers to come to their Saviour with their load of sin ­their Saviour, who was the one and only Mediator between God and man.  Were not His own words enough ­“Father, forgive them”?  What need, then, of the priest; the confessional; the absolution of man?  To God and to Him alone was the remission of sins.  Let those who loved their Lord seek to Him, and see what bliss and happiness resulted from this personal bond between the erring soul and the loving Saviour.

Edred shivered slightly as he stood, yet something in the impassioned gestures of the hunchback, and the strange enthusiastic light which shone in his eyes, attracted him in spite of himself.  That this was rank heresy he well knew.  He knew that one of the Lollard tenets had always been that confession was a snare devised of man and not appointed by God.  Edred himself could have quoted many passages from Holy Writ which spoke of some need of confession through the medium of man, and of sins remitted by God-appointed ministers.  He had been well instructed in such matters by Brother Emmanuel, who, whatever his enemies might allege against him, was a stanch son of the Church, even though he might be gifted with a wide tolerance and a mind open to conviction; and his pupil was not to be easily convinced against his will.  Nor was Edred convinced of the justice and truth of many things that this ignorant man spoke; but what did strike him very greatly was his intense earnestness, his fiery and impassioned gestures, the absolute confidence he possessed in the righteousness of his own cause, and his utter freedom from any kind of doubt or fear ­the eloquence of one of nature’s orators that carries away the heart far more than the studied oratory which is the result of practice and artifice.

Whilst the man spoke, Edred felt himself carried away in spite of his inner consciousness that there was a flaw in the argument of the preacher.  He was intensely interested by the whole scene.  He could not help watching the faces of the group of which he made one, watching the play of emotion upon them as they followed with breathless attention their instructor’s words, and drank in his fiery eloquence as though it were life-giving water.

And was it wonderful this should be so? the youth asked of himself.  Were not these poor people fairly starving for want of spiritual food? and what food did they receive from the hands of their parish priest?  Edred knew the old man well.  He was a kind-hearted sexagenarian, and in those days that was accounted an immense age.  He mumbled through the mass on Sundays; he baptized the children and buried the dead when need arose; and if sent for by some person in extremity, would go and administer the last rites of the Church.  But beyond that his duties did not go, and no living soul in the place remembered hearing him speak a word of instruction or admonition on his own account.  He had a passion for gardening, and spent all his spare time with his flowers; and his people went their way as he did his, and their lives never touched on any point.

Such being the case, was it wonderful that the people should come with eagerness to hear of the Saviour from whomsoever would tell them of Him?  Edred well remembered Brother Emmanuel’s words about the four God-given channels of grace ­the living ministry by which He had meant His Church to be perfected.  But how when the streams grew choked? how when the ministry had become a dead letter?  Was the Church, were the people, to die of inanition?  Might not God pardon them for listening to any messenger who came with His name upon his lips?  Surely He who lived in the heavens would pardon them even if it were sin, seeing that it was the instinctive love of His own wandering sheep which brought them crowding round any shepherd who would teach them of Him, even though he did not come in the God-directed order.

Some such thoughts in a more chaotic form surged through Edred’s head as he stood listening, almost causing him to lose the words of the preacher, though the tenor of his discourse was plain.  He almost wished he might enter into a discussion with this enthusiast, and point out to him where he thought him extravagant and wrong; but young as he was, Edred yet knew something of the futility of argument with those whose minds are made up, and caution withheld him from entering into any argument with one who was plainly a Lollard preacher.  So, after listening with sympathy and interest for a long while, he quietly stole away again.

The bull baiting was over by this time.  The games and other sports were recommencing with greater energy after this brief interruption.  The miracle play was again represented, and Edred stood a few minutes to watch, thinking within his heart that this representation, half comical, half blasphemous (though the people who regarded it seemed in no way aware of this), was a strange way of bringing home the realities of the Scriptures, when it could be done so far more faithfully and eloquently by simply reading the gospel words in the tongue of the common people.

His eye roved from the actors, with their mincing words and artificial gestures, to the group still collected beneath the tree, and he could not but contrast the two methods in his own mind, and wonder for a moment whether the Lollards could be altogether so desperately wicked as their enemies would make out.

He was half afraid of allowing himself to think too much on such themes, and went in search of his brothers.  He found Warbel looking out for him in some anxiety.  He had missed the boy for some little while from his charge, and as the field was filling fast with followers and servants wearing the Mortimer livery, he was glad to have the three boys all together beneath his care.

He would have been glad to get them to leave the place, but Bertram would not hear of it.  He wished to try his own skill at some of the sports; and Julian, of course, must needs follow his example.

The skill and address of the Chadgrove brothers won the hearty admiration of the rustics, but it also brought them more than once into rivalry and collision with some of Mortimer’s gentlemen-at-arms, who were not best pleased to be overmatched by mere striplings.  It was also galling and irritating to them to note the popularity of these lads with the rustics.  Any success of theirs was rewarded by loud shouting and applause, whilst no demonstration of satisfaction followed any feat performed by those wearing the livery of Mortimer.  And if the lads scored a triumph over any of these latter, the undisguised delight of the beholders could not pass unnoticed by the vanquished.

Altogether there were so much jealousy and ill will aroused that little scuffles between the followers of Chad and Mortimer had already taken place in more than one part of the field.  Warbel was getting very uneasy, and had persuaded Edred to use his influence with his brothers to return home before any real collision should have occurred, when a great tumult and shouting suddenly arose to interrupt the whispered colloquy, and Edred saw a great rush being made in the direction of the oak tree, where the hunchback preacher had been keeping his station the whole day long, always surrounded by a little knot of listeners.

Shouts and yells were filling the air, the voices being those of Mortimer’s following.

“A Lollard, a Lollard!  A heretic!  Down with him!  Away with him!  To the fire with him!  A Lollard, a Lollard!”

A deep flush overspread Edred’s face.  He made a spring forward; but Warbel laid a detaining hand upon his arm.

“It is no case for us to interfere in,” he said, with clouded brow.  “If they have a heretic to deal with we must not meddle.  It is not England’s way for a score to attack one; but we must not interpose betwixt Mortimer and a heretic.  That would be too much peril.”

But almost before the man had done speaking Edred broke away, crying out excitedly:  “My brothers, my brothers! they are there in the thick of it!” and with a groan of terror and dismay Warbel recognized the voice of Bertram raised in angry scorn.

“Stand back, you cowards!  Who ever heard of fifty men against one, and he a cripple?  The first who touches him I strike dead.  A heretic!  Pooh! nonsense.  He is but a poor travelling peddler with his pack.  See, here is the pack to speak for itself.  For shame to mar a merry holiday in this unmannerly fashion!  No; I will not give him up!  Ye are no better than a pack of howling, ravening wolves.  I am the Lord of Chad, and I will see that no violence is done this day.  Back to your sports, ye unmannerly knaves.  Are ye fit for nothing but to set upon one helpless man and worry him as dogs worry their helpless prey?”

Howls, exécrations, oaths followed freely; but the village people were to a man with their young lord, and the scions of Mortimer felt it by instinct.

“Who is he?  Whence came he?” was being asked on all sides; but none could give an answer.  He was a stranger to the village, but all those who had been drinking in his words rallied round him, and declared he was but a simple peddler whose wares they had been buying; and Bertram, who really thought so, stood beside the tree, opened the bundle, and showed the innocent nature of the wares.

His brothers had forced their way to his side by this time, and helped to make a ring round the poor hunchback; and Edred kept a very sharp eye upon the emptying of the pack, resolved if there should be any book at the bottom to contrive that it should not reach the eyes of any of the vindictive followers of Mortimer.

But there was nothing of the sort to be seen.  The man was both too poor and too wary to carry such dangerous things with him.  His own thin volume had been slipped into some secret receptacle about his person, and his calmness of bearing helped to convince all who were open to conviction that he was innocent of the charge brought against him.

With dark, lowering faces, and many muttered threats, the Mortimer retainers drew off, seeing that with public feeling dead against them they could not prevail to work their will upon the intended victim.  But Warbel was made very anxious by the words he heard openly spoken on all sides, and he would have given much to have hindered this act of Bertram’s, generous and manly though he knew it to have been.

“It is ill work drawing down the charge of heresy,” he remarked, as he got the boys at last in full march homeward.  “Any other charge one can laugh to scorn; but no man may tell where orthodoxy ends and heresy begins.  Godly bishops have been sent to prison, and priests to the stake.  How may others hope to escape?”

“Tush!” answered Bertram lightly; “there was never a heretic at Chad yet, and never will be one, I trow.  Was I to see a poor cripple like that done to death without striking a blow in his defence ­he in Chadwick, of which my father is lord of the manor?  Was I to see Mortimer’s men turning a gay holiday into a scene of horror and affright?  Never!  I were unworthy of my name had I not interposed.  The man was no heretic, and if he had been ­”

“Have a care, sir, how thou speakest; have a care, I entreat thee!  Thou knowest not what ears may be listening!” cried Warbel, in a real fright.

Bertram laughed half scornfully.

“I have no need to be ashamed of what I think.  I am a true son of the Church, and fear not what the vile Mortimer scum may say.  But to pleasure thee, good Warbel, I will say no more.  We will make our way home with all speed, and tell the tale to our father.  I doubt not he will say it was well done.  The Lord of Chad would ever have the defenceless protected, and stand between them and the false and treacherous bloodhounds of Mortimer.  I have no fear that he will blame me.  He would have done the same in my place.”

“I trow he would,” answered Warbel in a low voice; “but that does not make the deed done without peril of some sort following to the doer.”