The Gathering of Brother Hilarius [36]
where he lay, and shrived him though he scarce could hear his muttered words; but lo! when he would place the Host he could not, for a gold piece lay on the man's tongue. The Prior drew back dismayed, and behold, the Lord's hand struck swiftly, and Dickon died with a barren shriving - on whom may Christ take pity!
Next day great grey clouds curtained the arid, staring sky; and at even came the rain. All through the night it fell; and one of the novices, who lay a-dying in the Prioir's arms, heard it as he passed, and fell back, joy on his lips and a radiant smile on his young face.
"'Esurientes implevit bonis,'" said the Prior, as he laid him down, blessing God.
A second novice died, then a third, and yet another; but there was no need to call further help from the Monastery, for the Plague was stayed. Never had cloistered monks spent such a strange season; rarely such a blessed one.
The Feast of the Transfiguration was nigh at hand, and the Prior was minded to return on that day to the waiting, anxious Convent, for his work was done.
Great was the joy and preparation at the Monastery when the tidings reached them; joy too for those who lay not in the shelter of the cloister garth, but, as it were, on the battlefield where they had given their lives for their brethren.
The holy day dawned without a cloud. A strong west wind bowed the pines in the forest, and they worshipped and sang for joy, because of the face of the Lord. The sun burnt bright in the great blue dome, and earth shone with pale reflection of his glory.
The monks paced the cloister walks, and waited and watched to catch the signal from the lay-brother posted without. At last the word came that voices were heard in the distance; and monks and novices hastened two and two to the gate. On the wind was borne the sound of a chant.
"'Tis a dirge for those that are gone," said Brother Anselm; and crossing themselves, the Brothers chanted out the sonorous response:
"Et lux perpetua luceat eis."
As they reached the open gate, the little band they waited for came slowly down the forest pathway.
Four Brothers, only four; and lo! on their shoulders they bore a rude bier of pine-branches.
This was the gathering of Brother Hilarius. Sweet-scented boughs for his last bed; Mary's lilies aglow for tapers tall; the censer of the forest swung by sun and wind; and the glory of the face of the Lord.
He had called his children to him in the late night-watches, and having kissed and blessed them, he bade them turn him to the east, for his time had come; and they obeyed in sore grief and perplexed. Prior Hilarius lay and watched for the light, and as dawn parted night's veil with the long foregleam of the coming day, he shut his eyes like a tired child and went home.
It was his heart, Brother Simon thought; but the Sub-Prior cried through his tears:-
"Nay, nay, it was God a-hungered for His dear son."
They bore the Prior into the white-clad Church, and laid him on his forest-bed under the great Christ; and the novices, seeing the tender smile on the beautiful face, whispered one to another, "The Prior hath found his little maid." And the Convent made Hilarius a wondrous fair tomb of alabaster inlaid with gold, and carved him lying thereon with Mary's lilies across his breast.
End
Next day great grey clouds curtained the arid, staring sky; and at even came the rain. All through the night it fell; and one of the novices, who lay a-dying in the Prioir's arms, heard it as he passed, and fell back, joy on his lips and a radiant smile on his young face.
"'Esurientes implevit bonis,'" said the Prior, as he laid him down, blessing God.
A second novice died, then a third, and yet another; but there was no need to call further help from the Monastery, for the Plague was stayed. Never had cloistered monks spent such a strange season; rarely such a blessed one.
The Feast of the Transfiguration was nigh at hand, and the Prior was minded to return on that day to the waiting, anxious Convent, for his work was done.
Great was the joy and preparation at the Monastery when the tidings reached them; joy too for those who lay not in the shelter of the cloister garth, but, as it were, on the battlefield where they had given their lives for their brethren.
The holy day dawned without a cloud. A strong west wind bowed the pines in the forest, and they worshipped and sang for joy, because of the face of the Lord. The sun burnt bright in the great blue dome, and earth shone with pale reflection of his glory.
The monks paced the cloister walks, and waited and watched to catch the signal from the lay-brother posted without. At last the word came that voices were heard in the distance; and monks and novices hastened two and two to the gate. On the wind was borne the sound of a chant.
"'Tis a dirge for those that are gone," said Brother Anselm; and crossing themselves, the Brothers chanted out the sonorous response:
"Et lux perpetua luceat eis."
As they reached the open gate, the little band they waited for came slowly down the forest pathway.
Four Brothers, only four; and lo! on their shoulders they bore a rude bier of pine-branches.
This was the gathering of Brother Hilarius. Sweet-scented boughs for his last bed; Mary's lilies aglow for tapers tall; the censer of the forest swung by sun and wind; and the glory of the face of the Lord.
He had called his children to him in the late night-watches, and having kissed and blessed them, he bade them turn him to the east, for his time had come; and they obeyed in sore grief and perplexed. Prior Hilarius lay and watched for the light, and as dawn parted night's veil with the long foregleam of the coming day, he shut his eyes like a tired child and went home.
It was his heart, Brother Simon thought; but the Sub-Prior cried through his tears:-
"Nay, nay, it was God a-hungered for His dear son."
They bore the Prior into the white-clad Church, and laid him on his forest-bed under the great Christ; and the novices, seeing the tender smile on the beautiful face, whispered one to another, "The Prior hath found his little maid." And the Convent made Hilarius a wondrous fair tomb of alabaster inlaid with gold, and carved him lying thereon with Mary's lilies across his breast.
End