tween himself and the Church; and she had no sooner gone than he set to work to think matters over, and to consider how best he could reinstate himself in th

d ecclesiastical authority. One of these was the endowing, building, or oth

of spending his ill-gott

story, no less a personage than the King of England himself, Henry II., had submitted to the penance of corporal punishment in the c

a similar form of reconci

He wore no armour, but was clad in the ordinary long robe or gown which was worn in civil life by all above the rank of la

had also removed his gilt spurs of knighthood, and any who met him riding along the road might well have taken him for a physician, notary, or some professional man of the laity. The gro

ached St. Alban's, and saw be

esplend

us shri

ks, and dames th

years, to ag

bbots in a

rter their pro

crilege their

led to recognize in the unobtrusive figure requesting an audience with the abbot th

r who had lately extorted from him the sum of one hundred pounds, under thre

asions. He dismounted, went down on one knee before the dignified

le penitent come to offer submission to his holy Mother, a

such cases. Penance he knew he could enj

strayed. But follow me," he added; "I, the humble servant of the Church, will call my br

ctions for the immediate summoning of a chapter, and the Robber Baron was left sw

The long, narrow, barrel-roofed apartment opening from the east walk of the cloister on the south side of the transept was s

God and our holy Alban have stretched forth their power and moved a heart of stone deeply sunken in iniquity. But even now came

d from the lips of the assembled

g you to grant me the benefit of y

t house of St. Alban was a personage of much power and importance, and accustomed to rule with a h

is even within our gates, say you, reverend father? Would he had stayed in his own ill-gotten castle! The lion is dangero

s, we see the finger of God in this matter. He hath delivered this Philistine of

r cellarer. "He must show his repentance in works. A tree is known by its f

raelites were commanded when they left the land of Egypt. Let us spoil h

, in the hope of arriving at some conclusion, the prior made a su

, we waste our time. Were it not well to have this penitent before us, a

arried, so to speak, and Fulke was

ly as their grim visitor strode into the assemblage, and a silenc

ubject of the readiness of the Church to receive sinners back to her arms. It concluded with a broad hint that the abbey should be compensat

making his peac

igno

the leading case of Henry II at Canterbury, and expressed his willingness t

ne was to be complete satisfaction. There

led, the chapter requested the penite

I been the reverend father, I would so have spoken that the knight could not

t a martyr here in the abbey, even as the poor bailie

e must even be content. As the humble ruler of this house, I think I may say that what was not thought too heavy a censure for the King of England, in the holy church of Christ at Canterbury, f

every o

heir cowls, two and two; then the prior, sub-prior, and other officers; and, lastly, the father abbot himself

ough, as a penitent still under the displeasure of the Church, he could not be admitted to the abbot's table in the latt

Fulke, stripping himself to the waist, knelt down, and

r the brethren handed a discipline or scourge of small cords, and each monk i

ere sufficient without taking into consideration the actual pain inflicted. The Church triumph

not, apparently, occur to him that any act of restitution should accompany the outward form of penance, for, as the chronicler pathetical

ed, if indeed his brutal nature could feel fear. But he dreaded it quite as much for its temporal consequences as for those of the future; for it was apt to affect unpleasantly a man's social and worldly position. Secondly, Sir Fulke reflected that King Henry had certainly greatly strengthened himself by that visit to the chapter-house at Canterbury. With such an example, no one could aver that Si