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Hilarius delivered the Prior's letter, and followed the steward into a rush-strewn hall where scullions and serving-men were busy with preparations for the evening meal; and sat there, lonely and dejected, his curiosity quenched, his heart sore, his whole being crying out for the busied peace and silent orderliness of his cloister home.
'Tis a sad place, though, and thy young face is like a sunbeam on a winter's day. Come, I will show thee thy road." He led Hilarius through the winding alleys and set him once more on the edge of the city's stir and hum. "I can no further," he said. "Farewell, young sir, and God keep thee! An old man's blessing ne'er harmed any one."
At last, something restored by the much-needed food, Hilarius looked round the hall. It reminded him of the Refectory at home, save that it was far loftier and heavily timbered.
"She was his mother," he said, as if making excuse. Hilarius stared in bewilderment. His mother? Ay, but an evil liver; and the people of Bungay had wrought a good work in sending her to her own place. He crossed himself piously at the thought of the near neighbourhood of devils busied with a thrice-damned soul.
Hilarius fed her carefully with bread and wine not for nothing had he served the Infirmarian when blood-letting had proved too severe for some weak Brother and then turned his attention to the little maid who sat patient, eyeing the food. For her, bread and milk. He sat down on a low stool, and taking the child on his knee slowly supplied the gaping, bird-like mouth.
He nodded his head as Hilarius related how the friar he companied with preached in each village that men should repent ere the scourge of God fell upon them; "but there is naught of it as yet," said the lad. "Nay, nay, it is like a thief in the night. One day it is not; and then the next, men sicken and fall like blasted wheat.
Also I like not the matter of the vision and would fain see the end of it." That night the dream came again to the Friar, and a voice cried: "Haste, haste, ere it be too late." And so Hilarius and Martin came to Bungay, the Friar guiding them, for the way was his own.
The sweet, pungent smell overpowered him; the trees beckoned with their long arms and slender fingers; the voice of the forest called, and Hilarius, answering, walked swiftly away, with bowed head and beating heart, between the sunburnt pine-boles.
Hilarius, when things as yet were almost uncorrupt, and in good ease too: "Ye are ill deceived," saith he, "with the love of walls: ye do ill worship the Church, in that ye worship it in houses and buildings: ye do ill bring in the name of peace under roofs. Is there any doubt but Antichrist will have his seat under the same?
Hilarius felt for his purse, but Martin stayed him. "Nay, lad, better have left thy money with the pick-purses than help to fill the skin of this lazy rogue; 'tis not the first time we have met. See here," and with a dexterous jerk he caught the hermit's wallet.
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