Passing erect through the midst, he beckoned forth the officer, in attendance at the extreme end, who, after an interchange of whispers, ushered him into the royal presence.

The monks and the priests, gazing towards the door which had closed on his stately form, said to each other: "The King's Norman favourites at least honoured the Church." "That is true," said an abbot; "and an it were not for two things, I should love the Norman better than the Saxon." "What are they, my father ?" asked an aspiring young monk.
"Inprinis," quoth the abbot, proud of the one Latin word he thought he knew, but, that, as we see, was an error; "they cannot speak so as to be understood, and I fear me much they incline to mere carnal learning." Here there was a sanctified groan: "Count William himself spoke to me in Latin!" continued the abbot, raising his eyebrows.
"Did he ?--Wonderful!" exclaimed several voices.

"And what did you answer, holy father ?" "Marry," said the abbot solemnly, "I replied, Inprinis." "Good!" said the young monk, with a look of profound admiration.
"Whereat the good Count looked puzzled--as I meant him to be:--a heinous fault, and one intolerant to the clergy, that love of profane tongues! And the next thing against your Norman is (added the abbot, with a sly wink), that he is a close man, who loves not his stoup; now, I say, that a priest never has more hold over a sinner than when he makes the sinner open his heart to him." "That's clear!" said a fat priest, with a lubricate and shining nose.
"And how," pursued the abbot triumphantly, "can a sinner open his heavy heart until you have given him something to lighten it?
Oh, many and many a wretched man have I comforted spiritually over a flagon of stout ale; and many a good legacy to the Church hath come out of a friendly wassail between watchful shepherd and strayed sheep! But what hast thou there ?" resumed the abbot, turning to a man, clad in the lay garb of a burgess of London, who had just entered the room, followed by a youth, bearing what seemed a coffer, covered with a fine linen cloth.
"Holy father!" said the burgess, wiping his forehead, "it is a treasure so great, that I trow Hugoline, the King's treasurer, will scowl at me for a year to come, for he likes to keep his own grip on the King's gold." At this indiscreet observation, the abbot, the monks, and all the priestly bystanders looked grim and gloomy, for each had his own special design upon the peace of poor Hugoline, the treasurer, and liked not to see him the prey of a layman.
"Inprinis!" quoth the abbot, puffing out the word with great scorn; "thinkest thou, son of Mammon, that our good King sets his pious heart on gew-gaw, and gems, and such vanities?
Thou shouldst take the goods to Count Baldwin of Flanders; or Tostig, the proud Earl's proud son." "Marry!" said the cheapman, with a smile; "my treasure will find small price with Baldwin the scoffer, and Tostig the vain! Nor need ye look at me so sternly, my fathers; but rather vie with each other who shall win this wonder of wonders for his own convent; know, in a word, that it is the right thumb of St.Jude, which a worthy man bought at Rome for me, for 3000 lb.

weight of silver; and I ask but 500 lb.

over the purchase for my pains and my fee." [119] "Humph!" said the abbot.
"Humph!" said the aspiring young monk; the rest gathered wistfully round the linen cloth.
A fiery exclamation of wrath and disdain was here heard; and all turning, saw a tall, fierce-looking thegn, who had found his way into that group, like a hawk in a rookery.
"Dost thou tell me, knave," quoth the thegn, in a dialect that bespoke him a Dane by origin, with the broad burr still retained in the north; "Dost thou tell me that the King will waste his gold on such fooleries, while the fort built by Canute at the flood of the Humber is all fallen into ruin, without a man in steel jacket to keep watch on the war fleets of Swede and Norwegian ?" "Worshipful minister," replied the cheapman, with some slight irony in his tone, "these reverend fathers will tell thee that the thumb of St.
Jude is far better aid against Swede and Norwegian than forts of stone and jackets of steel; nathless, if thou wantest jackets of steel, I have some to sell at a fair price, of the last fashion, and helms with long nose-pieces, as are worn by the Normans." "The thumb of a withered old saint," cried the Dane, not heeding the last words, "more defence at the mouth of the Humber than crenellated castles and mailed men!" "Surely, naught son," said the abbot, looking shocked, and taking part with the cheapman.