CHAPTER XXVII.

Of a grievous suffering which befell him through a companion.

ONCE upon a time, when he was about to set forth upon a journey, there was assigned to him for his companion a lay-brother who was not quite right in his head. He received this brother very reluctantly, for he had continually before his mind the sufferings which he had on former occasions undergone through the ill-behaviour of his companions. Nevertheless, he submitted himself, and took the brother with him.

Now, it so happened that they arrived before breakfast at a village in which an annual fair was being held on that day, and a very great number of people of all sorts were collected together. The Servitor’s companion, having been wet with the rain, went into a house to a fire, and declared that he would not go about with him any where, adding that the brother must do whatever he had to do without him, 119and that he would wait for him there. The brother had scarcely left the house when his companion rose up, and seated himself at table with a set of rough fellows and dealers who had travelled to the fair. When these men perceived that the wine had got well into his head, and he had left the table, and was standing under the yard-door gaping about him, they set upon him, saying that he had stolen a cheese from them. Now at that very moment, when these wicked people were treating him in this cruel manner, there came up four or five good-for-nothing soldiers, who also fell upon him, exclaiming that the scoundrel monk was a poisoner; for it was just then that there was the outcry about poisoning. Upon this, they laid hold of him, and made a great uproar, so that there was a general rush to the place.

When the lay-brother saw what course things had taken, and that he was a prisoner, he wished very much to get free, and, turning round, he said to them:—Stop a moment. Only stand still and let me speak, and I will confess it all to you, and tell you how things are. They stood still, and every body listened; upon which, he began thus:—Look at me now; you cannot help seeing that I am a fool and a witless 120man, and no one makes any account of me; but my companion is a man of consummate wisdom, and the Order has intrusted him with little bags of poison to throw into the wells between this place and Alsace, whither he is now journeying; and his intention is to defile every place to which he comes with vile poison. But see that you make haste and seize him, or he will have done a murderous deed which can never be healed; for he has just now taken out a little bag of poison and cast it into the village well, that all those who have come here to the fair and shall drink of the well may die without fail. This is why I stayed behind, and would not go out with him, for it is a great grief to me. And as a voucher that I speak the truth, you must know that he has a great bag for books, full of little bags of poison and a quantity of florins, which he and the Order have received from the Jews for carrying out this murderous design.

When the wild crew, and all those who had forced their way into the house, heard these words, they became mad with rage, and with loud yells they shouted out:—Quick after the murderer, that he escape us not! And one seized a pike, and another a battle-axe, each 121one taking what he could, and they rushed about in a state of frenzy, forcing open the houses and the closets, where they fancied they might find him, and stabbing with their naked swords through the beds and the straw, until the whole fair ran together, on account of the uproar.

Among the crowd there were strangers from other districts, honourable men, who knew the Servitor well, when they heard his name. These persons came forward and told the others that they were wronging him, for that he was a very pious man, who would be very sorry to commit such a crime. At length, as they could not find him, they gave over the search, and carried his companion as a prisoner to the village magistrate, who ordered him to be shut up in a cell.

The Servitor knew nothing of all this trouble; but when he thought the time for breakfast had come, and that his companion had quite dried himself at the fire, he set out for the inn, intending to breakfast there. When he reached the inn, they began to tell him the sad news, and related to him all that had happened. Upon which, he ran straightway in terror to the house where the magistrate and 122his companion were, and besought the magistrate to release him. The magistrate replied that this could not be, for that he intended to confine him in a tower as a punishment for his offence. This seemed hard and unbearable to the Servitor, and he ran hither and thither seeking help; but he could find no one to aid him in this matter. After he had busied himself in this way for a long time, he at length, with much shame and bitterness, obtained his companion’s release, though at great cost to himself.

He now fancied that his sufferings were at an end; but they were only just beginning. For he had no sooner got free from the authorities with trouble and loss, than his life was exposed to imminent danger. When he left the magistrate, about vesper-time, a cry was raised among the common people and the mob that a poisoner was there; and they yelled at him as at a murderer, so that he dared not pass along in front of the village. They pointed at him, saying:—That is the poisoner. He shall not escape us. He must be killed. We will not let him off for money, like the magistrate. When he tried to escape by slipping away into the village, they yelled still more fiercely after 123him. Some of them said:—We ought to drown him in the Rhine; which ran past the village. The others answered:—No; the filthy murderer will defile all the water: we should burn him. A huge peasant, in a sooty jerkin, snatched up a pike, and, forcing his way through to the front, cried out:—Hear me, my masters, all of you. There is no more shameful death to which we can put this heretic than if I run him through with this long pike, just as we spit a poisonous toad. Even so in like manner let me spit this poisoner naked on this pike, and then lift him up backwards, and drive him so firmly into this stout fence that he will not be able to fall off. There let his foul carcass be dried by the winds, that all who go by may have a view of the murderer, and curse him after his vile death; that so his misery may be the greater in this world and the next, for richly has this utter miscreant deserved this fate.

The Servitor heard these words with such terror that he groaned deeply, and the great tears rolled down his face from anguish.

All those who stood round the ring and saw him wept bitterly; and some beat their breasts through pity, and struck their hands together 124above their heads; but no one dared to say any thing in presence of the infuriated people, for they were afraid of being attacked themselves.

When night began to fall, he went up and down with weeping eyes entreating that some one, for God’s sake, would pity him and give him shelter; but they repulsed him cruelly. Some kind-hearted women would have gladly taken him in, but they dared not. At length, when the wretched sufferer was thus in the straits of death, and all help from man had failed him, and they were only waiting for the moment to fall upon him and kill him, he sunk down beside a fence through anguish and fear of death, and, lifting up his miserable and swollen eyes to the heavenly Father, exclaimed:—O Father of all pity, when wilt Thou bring me help to-day in my great need? O kind heart, how hast Thou forgotten Thy great kindness towards me? O Father, O true, kind Father, help me, poor wretch, in these great straits! I cannot resolve in my heart, which is already dead, whether it be more tolerable for me to be drowned, or to be burned, or to die upon a pike, for one of these deaths must now be mine. I commend my wretched spirit to Thee to-day, and I pray Thee to show me 125pity in my miserable death, for they are nigh unto me who are resolved to kill me.

This sorrowful plaint was overheard by a priest, who, running thither, snatched him by force out of their hands, and brought him home into his house; and, after keeping him during the night, that nothing might happen to him, set him on his way next morning early, safe out of all his troubles.