. In the days of the guild . d from the sunlit court where the ink was a-making, he received a summons to the Abbots own found that dignitary occupied with a stout and consequen-tial monk of perhaps forty-five, who was looking bewildered,snubbed, and indignant. Brother Ambrosius was most unac-customed to admonitions, even of the mildest. He had a widereputation as a writer, and was indeed the author of the veryvolume which Brother Basil was now copying. He seemedto know by instinct what would please the buyers of chron-icles, and especially what was to be left out. It was also most u
. In the days of the guild . d from the sunlit court where the ink was a-making, he received a summons to the Abbots own found that dignitary occupied with a stout and consequen-tial monk of perhaps forty-five, who was looking bewildered,snubbed, and indignant. Brother Ambrosius was most unac-customed to admonitions, even of the mildest. He had a widereputation as a writer, and was indeed the author of the veryvolume which Brother Basil was now copying. He seemedto know by instinct what would please the buyers of chron-icles, and especially what was to be left out. It was also most unusual to see the Abbot thoroughlyaroused. He had a cool, indifferent manner, which made hisrebukes more cutting. Now he was in wrathful earnest. Ambrosius, he thundered, there are some of us who willlive to see Thomas of Canterbury a Saint of the that is no reason why we should gabble about it before-hand. You have been thinking yourself a writer, have you?Your place here has been allowed you because you are—as. SOME OF us WILL LIVE TO SEE THOMAS OF CANTERBURY A SAINT OF THE CHURCH BASIL THE SCRIBE 21 a rule—cautious even to timidity. Silence is always safe,and an indiscreet pen is ruinous. The children of the braintravel far, and they must not discuss their betters. Shall we write then of the doings of hinds and swinkers*?asked the historian, pursing his heavy mouth. It seems wecannot write of Kings and of Saints. You may write anything in reason of Kings and of Saints—when they are dead, the Abbot retorted. But if you can-not avoid treasonable criticism of your King, I will find an-other historian. Go now to your penance. And Brother Ambrosius, not venturing a reply, slunk out. In the last three minutes Brother Basil had seen far beneaththe surface of things. His deep-set blue eyes flamed. Thedullness of the chronicle was not always the dullness ofthe author, it seemed. The King showed at best none toomuch respect for the Church, and his courtiers had dared
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