“If Brother Emmanuel is found, Chad will be forfeit.”

Such was the burden of Edred’s thoughts as he rode homeward at his brothers’ side, just behind their father and mother, at the close of that eventful day’s proceedings.

It was a thought that could not but be fraught with some terror to the boy, who knew that he had been instrumental in hiding the threatened monk, and that if by some gruesome chance the secret were to be discovered, their bitter enemy would make it an excuse for prosecuting his malicious and covetous purpose towards Chad with redoubled ardour, and with every prospect of success.  At present the prior was standing neutral betwixt the two foes; at present the king was well disposed towards Sir Oliver.  But should it be proved beyond dispute that he had set the Church at defiance, and had harboured a suspected heretic within his walls, then the prior would at once turn against him, and representations would be made to the king which would almost force him to turn away his favour.  The Lord of Chad would be a disgraced and suspected person, whilst in all probability the wiles of the ambitious Mortimer would prove successful, and the claim of Sir Edward Chadwell would be admitted, and the estate pass into his hands.

The thought was maddening.  The bare idea of being forced to leave the old home sent the hot blood coursing through the boy’s body.  If such a thing as that were to befall them, it would break their father’s heart.  And how should he ever hold up his head again, knowing that in some sort he had been the author of the mischief?

All the brothers had been heart and soul together in their desire to hide the brother from the wrath and unjust tyranny of the prior; but Edred felt as though the greatest responsibility had been his, though he could scarcely have said why.

Julian had certainly taken the lead in the final act of the drama; but Julian was yet a boy, and did not thoroughly realize the perils which might follow such a course.  Edred did, and his face was grave and thoughtful; and when from time to time he stole a glance at Bertram, he saw that his elder brother’s face was overcast and anxious, too.

They did not dare to exchange a single word upon the subject nearest to their hearts as they rode decorously behind their parents and the two monks.  The whole train had to restrain their horses to the ambling pace of the steed bestridden by the monks, who were by no means skilled riders; and dusk had fallen ere they all rode into the courtyard of Chad, where the bustle of dismounting afforded the brothers the chance of escaping for a few minutes to their upper chamber together.

“We must not stay a minute; the spies will be after us!” whispered Bertram.  “But one question I must ask.  Is he there?”

“Yea, verily; and none need visit him for many days.  It were better not.

“But, brothers both, lend me your strong arms here.  I would move this great chest across the fireplace.  Ask no question; I will show you why anon.”

Edred was the speaker, and he indicated an enormous carved oak chest quite twelve feet in length, which was kept in this room to hold the clothing of the three lads.  They did from time to time change its position in the room, so that no remark would be excited by the fact that it had been moved.  As Edred wished to place it now, it would stand right across the fireplace, blocking entirely the secret door; but Bertram looked a little doubtfully at it when it was in place, saying tentatively: 

“Thou dost not think it would draw attention to the carved pillars of the fireplace?  We shall have cunning and crafty men to deal with on the morrow.”

Edred smiled slightly.

“Wait till the morrow comes, and thou shalt see,” he answered; and then the brothers hastened down again, knowing that any sudden disappearance on their part might be marked and held as suspicious.

They had not, however, been gone long enough to be missed, and the two monks who had been told off to keep watch within this house had but just made their way into the hall, where hot spiced wine was being dispensed, and the table set out for supper.

Notwithstanding the feast recently partaken of at the priory, the brothers appeared by no means loath to sit down once again, and Edred could not but observe how differently they comported themselves from Brother Emmanuel, and how thoroughly they appreciated the dainty viands which were brought out in their honour.

He did not mean to sit in judgment ­he scarcely knew that he was doing so; yet as be watched their deep potations, and marked how they chose the best portions, and stinted themselves in no good thing, his stern young mind could not but rise up in revolt, the more so that these very men were actually here on purpose to strive to capture a brother of their own order, and deliver him over to death.  And so far as the youth understood the matter, the offence for which it was resolved he should suffer was that he was too faithful to the vows he had taken upon himself, and too ardent in striving to enforce upon others the rules he held binding upon himself.

But at least if these brothers ate and drank merrily, they were not therefore the better watchers.  They had smiled a little scornfully as he contrasted their good feeding and deep drinking and subsequent visible sleepiness with the spare and frugal meal always taken by Brother Emmanuel, to be followed as often as not by a long night vigil in the chantry.  There was small look of watchfulness about these men.  Any vigil kept by them would be but a mockery of the term.  It was all they could do to stumble through the office of compline when the meal was ended and the household about to retire, and there was no suggestion on their part of wishing to remain to keep vigil.

But Edred resolved that he would watch again that night.  He had done so the previous night with Brother Emmanuel, both thinking that it might be the last watch they would ever hold together.  Now the boy felt that he could not sleep, at least for many hours; and since their mother had whispered to them that Brother Fabian was to share their room, since he said it was his duty to keep watch upon the boys till next morning, it seemed well to leave his bed for the drowsy monk, aid keep vigil himself in the silent chantry.

The brother looked puzzled when he heard what one of his young charges proposed to do.  Edred looked him full in the face as he answered: 

“Brother Emmanuel taught us that it were not well that all within the house should be sleeping.  We know not when the Lord may appear ­at midnight, at cock crowing, or in the morning; and methinks whenever He may come, He would gladly find one soul holding vigil and waiting for His appearing.  Lock the door of the chantry upon me, my father.  Thou canst see that there is but the one door by which we may come or go.  If thou fearest to leave me here, lock the door upon me until such time as it pleases thee to release me.”

The brother regarded the boy with perplexed looks, and slowly shook his head, as though such an attitude of mind were wholly incomprehensible.  But he did not oppose his resolve.  It would not do to appear astonished at the idea of keeping vigil.  He passed out of the chantry muttering to himself, and Edred prostrated himself before the altar, above which the solitary lamp burned clear and bright, and offered up most earnest prayers for the safety of Brother Emmanuel, for the failure and discomfiture of his foes, and for his safe escape when the time was ripe into some country where his enemies were not like to find him.

How the hours of the night passed he scarcely knew.  He might perhaps have slept at his post awhile, or have remained in a dreamy and passive state; for it did not seem long before the morning sun came glinting in at the eastern window, and the boy saw that the day had come which was to be a momentous one to Chad.

Before very long, sounds of life about, and later on within the house, warned him that he was not the only watcher now; and feeling very drowsy and weary, he resolved to creep upstairs and share Julian’s couch for the remaining hours before the working day should commence.

He had not been locked into the chantry.  Perhaps Brother Fabian felt a little shame in his suspicions, or perhaps he forgot to take the precaution.  The door yielded to his touch, and he found himself at liberty to go where he would.

But before turning his steps to his room upstairs, he made an expedition to an outhouse on what appeared to be a curious errand.  It was a dirty, neglected place, and was full of dust and flue and cobweb.  The boy began deliberately collecting masses of this flue and web, and presently he swept up carefully a good-sized heap of dust, which he as deliberately placed in a wooden box, and proceeded to make in one end a number of small holes.

Carefully carrying away this strange load, and bearing it with great secrecy, the boy mounted the stairs very softly, and put down the handkerchief in which the flue was placed in the small unused room beside their sleeping chamber.  With the box still in his hands he stole on tiptoe into the room and looked carefully round him.

His brothers were sleeping lightly, looking as though they would be easily and speedily aroused.  But the monk was snoring deeply, and the bloated face which was turned towards him displayed that abandonment of repose which bespeaks a very sound and even sottish slumber.

The boy looked with repulsion at the flushed face, the open mouth, and dropped jaw.  Something in the expression of that sleeping face filled him with scorn and loathing.  No danger of this man’s awakening; his half-drunken sleep was far too heavy and sodden.

Edred stepped lightly across the room towards the chest which he had had moved the previous evening, and lying at full length along the floor, he proceeded to shake his box after the manner of a pepper pot until he had made beneath the chest a soft layer of dust which looked like the accumulation of weeks.  It was deftly and skilfully done, and although he looked critically at the after effect, to make sure there was nothing artificial about the aspect, he could not detect anything amiss.

The next step was to carry away his box, empty it out of a window, and break in pieces the perforated part, that there might be no tracing his action in this matter.  Then gaining possession of his handkerchief full of flue, he stole softly back again, and laid great flakes between the legs of the chest and the wall, stuffed light fragments into the interstices of the carving, and laid them upon any projecting ledge that was likely to have caught such light dirt as it filtered through the air.

A soft movement in the room told him that his brothers were awake and watching him, though the monk still snored on in his stertorous fashion.  One after the other the pair stole from their beds and looked for a moment at this skilful travesty of nature’s handiwork, and both nodded in token of approval and congratulation.

Edred had an artist’s eye for effect, and did not spoil his handiwork by overdoing it.  The result produced was exactly as if the chest had stood for some time in its present position, so that the dust had gathered beneath it and the flue had clung to the wall behind it.  No one looking at its position there could doubt that it had been there for a period of some weeks.

Satisfied with the result of his manoeuvre, the boy flung away the rest of his spoil, and throwing himself upon one of his brothers’ beds was soon lost in healthy sleep.

When he awoke the sun was high in the sky, and he found himself alone with Father Fabian, who appeared likewise only just to have awakened.

Brother Emmanuel would long ago have held early mass in the chantry, but this new inmate appeared by no means disposed to follow in the footsteps of his predecessors.  He rubbed his eyes, and seemed scarce to know where he was; but he accepted Edred’s offers of assistance, and was soon ready to leave the room in search of the meal to which he was accustomed.

All Chad was in a stir of expectation.  It was known throughout the house that a great search was to be instituted after the missing priest, who had, as it were, disappeared into thin air.

Everybody knew that he had been within the precincts of Chad upon the previous day.  Some amongst the few servants who had been left behind to take care of the house had seen him moving quietly about from the chantry to the courtyard and back.  It was now well known that spies were lurking in the forest round Chad with a view of intercepting any attempt at flight, and it was plain they had seen nothing of him.  Therefore, unless he had escaped their vigilance by cunning and artifice, he must still be somewhere within the precincts of the house; and on the whole this appeared the most probable theory.  In a place like Chad, where there were all manner of outbuildings, sheds, and lofts; to say nothing of all the corners and hiding places within the house itself, it would be very tempting to take refuge in one of these nooks and crannies, and to trust to the chance of concealment rather than run the gauntlet of meeting foes in the open.

Brothers from the monasteries, to say nothing of hunted heretics, had the reputation of being marvellous cunning in their methods.  It was like enough that Brother Emmanuel had long been planning some such concealment for himself, and had made his plans cleverly and astutely.  Such was the prevailing opinion at Chad, and scarcely a member of the household but hoped and trusted his hiding place would not be detected, even though they did not know how seriously the fortunes of their master might be affected were the monk to be found hidden in his house.

They all loved Brother Emmanuel for his own sake, and hated the Lord of Mortimer.  And it was well known that that haughty baron was making common cause with the prior of Chadwater in this matter, doubtless in the hope of disgracing Sir Oliver in the eyes of the ecclesiastical powers.

So a general feeling of excitement and uncertainty prevailed during the early hours of the morning.  Sir Oliver and his wife strove to appear calm and tranquil, but inwardly they were consumed by anxiety.  They felt something very much approaching certainty that their own sons knew what had befallen the monk ­probably his very hiding-place; and they were by no means certain that it might not be within the very precincts of Chad itself.  The knight’s generosity and love of justice were sufficiently stirred to make him willing to run some risk in the cause; he had resolved to ask no question, and to let matters take their own course.  But he could not help feeling a tremor run through him as he heard the winding of the horn which bespoke the presence of the visitors at his gate, and he went forth to meet them with a sinking heart, albeit his mien was calm and untroubled and his bearing dignified and assured.

The prior and the Lord of Mortimer headed the train, and behind followed a goodly retinue of men wearing the livery of the baron, to say nothing of the lay brothers and the cowled monks, who were skilful in matters pertaining to search, and who had come to assist in the examination of the whole of the great house.

Upon the face of Lord Mortimer and upon that of his son-in-law there was an ill-disguised look of vindictive triumph.  It was easy to see that they were fully assured of the presence of the fugitive within these walls, and that they did not mean to leave until he had been dragged forth from his hiding place.

The guests of the better quality were respectfully conducted into the great hall, and refreshments were placed before them.  Sir Oliver put his whole house and possessions into the hands of the prior, who was invited to make any kind of investigation and examination that he thought necessary.  The knight repeated what he had said the previous day as to his entire ignorance where the monk was hiding, and whether he was hiding at all.  But no obstacle of any kind would be placed by him against the most stringent search, and he would either accompany the searchers or remain passive where he was, exactly as the reverend father judged best.

This statement was well received by the prior, who turned to the Lord of Mortimer and suggested that in the first place his armed troopers, who were well used to this kind of work, should make a strict search through all the outbuildings of whatever kind, posting his men wherever he thought needful, and taking any steps such as the smoking of chimneys and kindred methods that might in any wise be likely to dislodge the fugitive.  Meantime the rest of the party would remain where they were, and the house should only be searched if it was made clear that the monk was not hiding without.

Lord Mortimer retired to give his orders, and the rest of the company remained in the hall.  The boys would better have liked the house searched first, that their anxiety might be the sooner relieved.  It was keeping them on tenterhooks all this time, as they knew well that no result could accrue from any search of the outer yards or buildings, and it was hard to wait all that time in uncertainty and suspense.

But they heard the order given without making any sign.  It was well for them at this crisis that they had been trained in habits of self control and reserve.  No one, to look at the three boys, would have guessed them to be greatly interested in the proceedings.  They remained standing in the background, with an air of quiet respect and submission appropriate to the young in presence of their spiritual superiors.  The prior, as his keen eye travelled over the faces in the hall, never suspected for a moment that those three quiet lads knew aught of this matter.  But, pleased by their air and bearing, he called them to him and asked them some questions, to assure himself that they had been properly taught by the recalcitrant monk whom now he had resolved to find and to punish for his rebellion and temerity.

The boys replied with such ready intelligence and so much actual learning that he could not but be pleased with them.  Edred, in particular, showed such readiness and aptitude that the prior was surprised, and laying a kindly hand upon the boy’s head, asked him how soon they would be welcoming him at Chadwater.

The youth looked up with grave, thoughtful eyes.

“I know not that, my father.  I have had thoughts of the religious life; but ­”

“Well, boy, what is the ’but’?” asked the prior with a smile, but a keen flash of the eye which did not pass unheeded.

Edred saw the flash, and was put at once upon his guard.  This was not Brother Emmanuel, to whom he could open his whole soul and ask counsel and advice.

“I misdoubt me at times if I be fit for the life,” he answered.  “There is too much of the world in my heart, I fear me.  I used to think I was fit to be a monk, but I am the less sure now.”

“Well, well, I would fain have a promising lad like thee beneath my care; but there is time to talk of that later.

“Well, my Lord of Mortimer, how goes the search?  Is all in train for it?”

“Ay, reverend father; and I trow if the miscreant be in hiding anywhere without the house, he will shortly be brought before us.  I am no novice in this manner of work, and I have laid my plans that he will scarce escape us.  If that fail, we must try the house itself.  It will go hard if we find him not somewhere.  We have full information that he has not left the place;” and here he flashed an insolent look of triumph at Sir Oliver, who took not the smallest notice either of the speech or the look.

Edred retired to his former place beside his brothers, and the party awaited the result of the search with what patience they might.  Now and then shouts and calls broke the stillness, and faces would flush with excitement at the sound; but the shouts always died away again into silence, and at last there came a trooper into the hall to salute the company and report that there was no one hidden in any of the places without.  Not a rat or a mouse could have failed to be turned out after the stringent search to which the premises had been subjected.

The Lord of Mortimer then rose and said: 

“Keep the men posted as I have given orders.  Let none stir from his vantage ground.  And be thou there to see that the closest watch is kept.  We go in person to search the house, and if any living thing seeks to make escape by door or window, it will be thine office and that of thy men to seize and hold him.”

“We will not fail, my lord,” said the man, who again saluted and withdrew.

Then the prior rose and called his monks about him, whilst the Lord of Mortimer did the like with his followers.

“Sir Oliver,” said the prior, “I would have spared you this unwelcome formality had it been possible, but my duty must be done.  I will ask you to be our conductor throughout the house, and will crave permission to post my servants hither and thither about the passages as seems to me best, and to take such steps as shall appear needful for proving to the satisfaction of all that this traitor monk is not hidden within your walls.”

Sir Oliver bent his head.

“Take what steps you will, reverend father; I and mine are at your disposal.  Whatever means you desire to use, do so without hesitation.  Shall my people arm themselves with tools to remove panelling or flooring?  You have but to command them; they shall instantly obey.”

The Lord of Mortimer again looked taken aback for a moment.  There was a confidence in Sir Oliver’s manner that did not appear to be assumed.  He would have preferred another aspect in his foe.

“We have brought all things needful for a rigorous search,” answered the prior.  “We hope and trust nothing will be needed.  Is it true that there are secret hiding places in the house, my son?  It would be well, perhaps, to visit any such first.”

“There be two,” answered Sir Oliver quietly, though his heart beat rather fast.  What if Brother Emmanuel had learned the secret of either of those places, and had sought refuge in one?  True, it would have been worse than useless to deny their existence.  Many in the household knew of them and how they might be entered.

Probably the prior or some of his monks had the trick of those chambers by heart.  Chad had been through many vicissitudes, and the monks had often been its guests.  Secrets once known to them were never allowed to be lost.  It would have been idle to seek to put the searchers off the scent.  He led the way to the places where the masked doors lay ­one was much after the pattern of that in the boys’ chamber ­and in each case himself opened the door, letting his guests go in to examine for themselves.

Those were terrible moments for him; but the hearts of the boys did not palpitate.  Each time the search party came forth with looks of baffled disappointment.  Each time the Lord of Mortimer’s face was dark and gloomy.  He had reckoned somewhat confidently on finding the fugitive in one of these known hiding places.  He had hoped Sir Oliver would profess an ignorance of at least one of the two.  His face was fierce and vindictive as the second was “drawn blank.”

But the excitement of the boys was slowly augmenting as the party moved higher and higher in the house, leaving scouts posted in various places, and, as it were, spreading a cleverly-constructed net all through Chad, which it would be impossible for any person being hunted from spot to spot finally to escape.

The prior’s idea now was that the monk might be gliding before them from place to place, confident that his knowledge of the intricacies of the house would give him the chance of evading them at the last.  It was a desperate game, to be sure, but one that had been successfully tried by others on more than one occasion.  He therefore posted his men with great skill and acumen; and knowing the house accurately, was able to feel secure that if this were the game being played, the prey would sooner or later be his.

Lord Mortimer, on the other hand, gave his attention to the panelled walls, the carved chimney pieces, the flooring of the old rooms; and many were the blows struck here and there by his orders, and great was the damage done to certain panelled rooms, in the hopes of coming upon some masked door or passage.

It was this energy on his part that caused such anxiety to the boys.  Suppose he were to attack the carving which really concealed the masked door in their room?  Might not his eagle eye light upon that, too, and might not all be discovered?  The boys felt almost sick with apprehension as they approached the door of their room, and Edred’s whole heart went up in a voiceless prayer that no discovery might be made.

Nothing in the aspect of the room attracted comment.  All looked matter of fact and innocent enough, and the prior was growing something weary with the unavailing search.  The usual thumping on the walls was commenced; but even the carved mantel pillars were so solid that no hollow sound was given forth when they were struck.  The prior turned away.

“There is naught here, methinks, my Lord of Mortimer.”

“Wait one moment,” replied the baron.  “This carving be something deep and ponderous.  I always suspect traps when I see such pains bestowed upon it.  Let me examine a while further.  These grapes look to me as if they had been fingered something often.  Let me examine further.”

Edred’s heart was in his mouth.  It was all he could do to restrain himself from seeking to attract the prior’s attention in another direction; but his sound sense told him that this sudden interruption would be suspicious.  Julian nipped him by the arm, as those strong fingers went travelling over the carved work with dire intent.  Both started when the Lord of Mortimer exclaimed: 

“Take away yon chest; it encumbers me.”

The servants did his bidding in a moment; and then a sudden change came over his face.  The eager look died away.  He remained awhile looking down at the floor, which was covered with dust and flue, as was also the carving which had been concealed behind the chest.  The prior looked down too, and shrugged his shoulders.

“That tells a tale, my lord.  Naught has been disturbed here for many a long day.  Let us pursue our search elsewhere.  No fugitive could have passed by that spot since yesterday, when Brother Emmanuel was last seen.”

The baron could not but assent.  He looked once again at the carving, but he had had no real reason to suspect aught, and he turned away to go elsewhere.  Another grip of the arm showed Edred how Julian’s feelings had been stirred; but the lads did not even look at each other as they moved on behind the company, and they now hardly heard or heeded what passed during the remaining hour of that long search.

For them the crisis had passed when they turned from the room where the secret lay.  If not discovered at that awful moment when Lord Mortimer’s hand was actually upon the bunch of grapes beneath which lay the spring, they surely need not fear any other manoeuvre on his part.

And at last the long search ended.  Even the Lord of Mortimer had to own himself beaten.  Reluctantly and with scowling brow he followed the prior back to the long banqueting hall, where the tables had already been laid with savoury viands.  He had been worsted where he had been most confident of success, and he was as furious as a bear robbed of her whelps.

The prior was taking Sir Oliver by the hand and speaking words of goodwill, professing great satisfaction at the result of this stringent search; his only vexation being that the monk had contrived to give them the slip.  In the back of his head the prior had a lurking feeling that Sir Oliver had been in some sort concerned in Brother Emmanuel’s escape, and was rejoicing at it; but inasmuch as he had entirely failed to bring home any charge against him, and as in all other respects he was a good neighbour and true son of the Church, he was willing enough to restore him to favour and confidence, and was not sorry on the whole that the haughty Lord of Mortimer was not going to have it all his own way.

The astute ecclesiastic knew very well that he himself did better for holding a neutral position between two adversaries both desiring his friendship and good opinion, than he would do were Chad and Mortimer to be in the same hands.  He was disappointed at not finding the monk, but not sorry Sir Oliver stood vindicated.  He set himself down to the board with a hearty goodwill; but the baron refused the proffered hospitality of his rival, and summoned his attendants about him.

“I will say farewell this time, Sir Oliver,” he said haughtily.  “But remember I still hold that we have only been foiled by your cunning; not that you are innocent in this matter.  If ever I can prove this thing against you, I shall do so; and I recommend the reverend prior to keep his watch still upon this house, as I fully believe yon traitor monk is in hiding here.”

“And I, my lord baron,” said Sir Oliver proudly, “will give you fair warning that I will speedily to the king, to lay before him the history of this day and the insults to which I have been subjected through you and your groundless suspicions of me.  I have not resisted what you have chosen to do, knowing well the use you would have made of such resistance.  But I have not forgotten the many acts of aggression and hostility of which you have been guilty; and this last day’s work, in which your servants have made themselves, as it were, masters of Chad, shall be answered for at some future day.  You have thought good to threaten me.  I too will threaten you.  I threaten you with the displeasure of the king when this thing comes to his ears; and I shall seek him now without delay, and tell him all I have suffered at your hands.”