"And we now reap the fruit of the seed which they have so unadvisedly
sown," said Ambrosius; "they taught men to make a mock of what is
holy, what wonder that the descendants of scoffers become robbers and
plunderers? But be it as you list, my brethren--move towards the
dortour--And you, dame, I command you, by the authority which I have
over you, and by your respect for that youth's safety, that you go
with us without farther speech--Yet, stay--what are your intentions
towards that youth whom you detain prisoner?--Wot ye," he continued,
addressing Howleglas in a stern tone of voice, "that he bears the
livery of the House of Avenel? They who fear not the anger of Heaven,
may at least dread the wrath of man."
"Cumber not yourself concerning him," answered Howleglas, "we know
right well who and what he is."
"Let me pray," said the Abbot, in a tone of entreaty, "that you do him
no wrong for the rash deed--which he attempted in his imprudent zeal."
"I say, cumber not yourself about it, father," answered Howleglas,
"but move off with your train, male and female, or I will not
undertake to save yonder she-saint from the ducking-stool--And as for
bearing of malice, my stomach has no room for it; it is," he added,
clapping his hand on his portly belly, "too well bumbasted out with
straw and buckram--gramercy to them both--they kept out that madcap's
dagger as well as a Milan corslet could have done."
In fact, the home-driven poniard of Roland Graeme had lighted upon the
stuffing of the fictitious paunch, which the Abbot of Unreason wore as
a part of his characteristic dress, and it was only the force of the
blow which had prostrated that reverend person on the ground for a
moment.
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