“And will I not?” said Beaumanoir, with a frown. “Is it not written in the forty-second capital, De Lectione Literarum, that a Templar shall not receive a letter, no, not from his father, without communicating the same to the Grand Master, and reading it in his presence?”

He then perused the letter in haste, with an expression of surprise and horror; read it over again more slowly; then holding it out to Conrade with one hand, and slightly striking it with the other, exclaimed—“Here is goodly stuff for one Christian man to write to another, and both members, and no inconsiderable members, of religious professions! When,” said he solemnly, and looking upward; “wilt Thou come with Thy fanners to purge the thrashing-floor?”

Mont-Fitchet took the letter from his Superior, and was about to peruse it. “Read it aloud, Conrade,” said the Grand Master;—“and do thou” (to Isaac) “attend to the purport of it, for we will question thee concerning it.”

Conrade read the letter, which was in these words: “Aymer, by divine grace, Prior of the Cistercian house of St. Mary’s of Jorvaulx, to Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, a Knight of the holy Order of the Temple, wisheth health, with the bounties of King Bacchus and of my Lady Venus. Touching our present condition, dear Brother, we are a captive in the hands of certain lawless and godless men, who have not feared to detain our person, and put us to ransom; whereby we have also learned of Front-de-Bœuf’s misfortune, and that thou hast escaped with that fair Jewish sorceress, whose black eyes have bewitched thee. We are heartily rejoiced of thy safety; nevertheless, we pray thee to be on thy guard in the matter of this second Witch of Endor; for we are privately assured that your Great Master, who careth not a bean for cherry cheeks and black eyes, comes from Normandy to diminish your mirth, and amend your misdoings. Wherefore, we pray you heartily to beware, and to be found watching, even as the Holy Text hath it, Invenientur vigilantes. And the wealthy Jew her father, Isaac of York, having prayed of me letters in his behalf, I gave him these, earnestly advising, and in a sort entreating, that you do hold the damsel to ransom, seeing he will pay you from his bags as much as may find fifty damsels upon safer terms, whereof I trust to have my part when we make merry together, as true brothers, not forgetting the wine-cup. For what saith the text, Vinum lœtificat cor hominis; and again, Rex delectabitur pulchritudine tua.

“Till which merry meeting, we wish you farewell. Given from this den of thieves, about the hour of matins,

“Aymer Pr. S. M. Jorvolciencis.

“Postscriptum.—Truly your golden chain hath not long abidden with me, and will now sustain, around the neck of an outlaw deer-stealer, the whistle wherewith he calleth on his hounds.”

“What sayest thou to this, Conrade?” said the Grand Master.—“Den of thieves! and a fit residence is a den of thieves for such a Prior. No wonder that the hand of God is upon us, and that in the Holy Land we lose place by place, foot by foot, before the infidels, when we have such churchmen as this Aymer.—And what meaneth he, I trow, by this second Witch of Endor?” said he to his confidant, something apart.

Conrade was better acquainted (perhaps by practice) with the jargon of gallantry, than was his Superior; and he expounded the passage which embarrassed the Grand Master, to be a sort of language used by worldly men towards those whom they loved par amours; but the explanation did not satisfy the bigoted Beaumanoir.

“There is more in it than thou dost guess, Conrade; thy simplicity is no match for this deep abyss of wickedness. This Rebecca of York was a pupil of that Miriam of whom thou hast heard. Thou shalt hear the Jew own it even now.” Then turning to Isaac, he said aloud, “Thy daughter, then, is prisoner with Brian de Bois-Guilbert?”

“Ay, reverend valorous sir,” stammered poor Isaac, “and whatsoever ransom a poor man may pay for her deliverance—”