CHAPTER I - BLIND EYES IN THE FOREST
HILARIUS stood at the Monastery gate, looking away down the
smooth, well-kept road to the highway beyond. It lay quiet and serene in
the June sunshine, the white way to the outer world, and not even a dust
cloud on the horizon promised the approach of the train of sumpter mules
laden with meats for the bellies and cloth for the backs of the good
Brethren within. The Cellarer lacked wine, the drug stores in the farmery
were running low; last, but not least, the Precentor had bespoken precious
colours, rich gold, costly vellum, and on these the thoughts of Hilarius
tarried with anxious expectation.
On his left lay the forest, home of his longing imaginings. The
Monastery wall crept up one side of it, and over the top the great trees
peered and beckoned with their tossing, feathery branches. Twice had
Hilarius walked there, attending the Prior as he paced slowly and silently
along the mossy ways, under the strong, springing pines; and the
occasions were stored in his memory with the glories of St Benedict\'s Day
and Our Lady\'s Festivals. Away to the right, within the great enclosure,
stretched the Monastery lands, fair to the eye, with orchard and fruitful
field, teeming with glad, unhurried labour.