as the pulse and water was blessed to the children Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who drank the same rather than defile themselves with the wine and meats which were appointed them by the king of the Saracens.”
“Holy father,” said the knight, “upon whose countenance it hath pleased Heaven to work such a miracle, permit a sinful layman to crave thy name?”
“Thou mayest call me,” answered the hermit, “the Clerk of Copmanhurst, for so I am termed in these parts. They add, it is true, the epithet Holy, but I stand not upon that, as being unworthy of such addition. And now, valiant knight, may I pray ye for the name of my honourable guest?”
“Truly,” said the knight, “Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst, men call me in these parts the Black Knight—many, sir, add to it the epithet of Sluggard, whereby I am no way ambitious to be distinguished.”
The hermit could scarcely forbear from smiling at his guest’s reply.
“I see,” said he, “Sir Sluggish Knight, that thou art a man of prudence and of counsel; and, moreover, I see that my poor monastic fare likes thee not, accustomed, perhaps, as thou hast been to the licence of courts and of camps, and the luxuries of cities; and now I bethink me, Sir Sluggard, that when the charitable keeper of this forest-walk left those dogs for my protection, and also those bundles of forage, he left me also some food, which, being unfit for my use, the very recollection of it had escaped me amid my more weighty meditations.”
“I dare be sworn he did so,” said the knight; “I was convinced that there was better food in the cell, Holy Clerk, since you first doffed your cowl. Your keeper is ever a jovial fellow; and none who beheld thy grinders contending with these pease, and thy throat flooded with this ungenial element, could see thee doomed to such horse provender and horse beverage” (pointing to the provisions upon the table), “and refrain from mending thy cheer. Let us see the keeper’s bounty, therefore, without delay.”
The hermit cast a wistful look upon the knight, in which there was a sort of comic expression of hesitation, as if uncertain how far he should act prudently in trusting his guest. There was, however, as much of bold frankness in the knight’s countenance as was possible to be expressed by features. His smile, too, had something in it irresistibly comic, and gave an assurance of faith and loyalty, with which his host could not refrain from sympathising.
After exchanging a mute glance or two, the hermit went to the farther side of the hut, and opened a hutch, which was concealed with great care and some ingenuity. Out of the recesses of a dark closet, into which this aperture gave admittance, he brought a large pasty, baked in a pewter platter of unusual dimensions. This mighty dish he placed before his guest, who, using his poniard to cut it open, lost no time in making himself acquainting with its contents.
“How long is it since the good keeper has been here?” said the knight to his host, after having swallowed several hasty morsels of this reinforcement to the hermit’s good cheer.
“About two months,” answered the father hastily.
“By the true Lord,” answered the knight, “everything in your hermitage is miraculous, Holy Clerk! for I would have been sworn that the fat buck which furnished this venison had been running on foot within the week.”
The hermit was somewhat discountenanced by this observation; and, moreover, he made but a poor figure while gazing on the diminution of the pasty, on which his guest was making desperate inroads; a warfare in which his previous of abstinence left him no pretext for joining.