One by one the men, sobered by the shock of great surprise, confessed and were shriven under the summer sun: only the man Dickon was not among them. Then the Prior bade them get to work as he should direct; and he set a watch that no man should flee the village; and all obeyed him.
Early and late the Prior toiled with the Brethren and his band of workers, nursing the sick, burying the dead, and destroying the pestilent dwellings.
Brother Leo was the first to whom the call came: he answered it like a soldier at his post.
As the Prior rose from the pallet of his dead son, one bade him come quickly, for a dying man had need of him. It was Dickon.
The Prior, bearing with him the Body of the Lord, made haste to the hovel where he lay, and shrived him though he scarce could hear his muttered words; but lo! when he would place the Host he could not, for a gold piece lay on the man’s tongue. The Prior drew back dismayed, and behold, the Lord’s hand struck swiftly, and Dickon died with a barren shriving—on whom may Christ take pity!
Next day great grey clouds curtained the arid, staring sky; and at even came the rain. All through the night it fell; and one of the novices, who lay a-dying in the Prioir’s arms, heard it as he passed, and fell back, joy on his lips and a radiant smile on his young face.
“‘_Esurientes implevit bonis_,’” said the Prior, as he laid him down, blessing God.
A second novice died, then a third, and yet another; but there was no need to call further help from the Monastery, for the Plague was stayed. Never had cloistered monks spent such a strange season; rarely such a blessed one.
The Feast of the Transfiguration was nigh at hand, and the Prior was minded to return on that day to the waiting, anxious Convent, for his work was done.
Great was the joy and preparation at the Monastery when the tidings reached them; joy too for those who lay not in the shelter of the cloister garth, but, as it were, on the battlefield where they had given their lives for their brethren.
The holy day dawned without a cloud. A strong west wind bowed the pines in the forest, and they worshipped and sang for joy, because of the face of the Lord. The sun burnt bright in the great blue dome, and earth shone with pale reflection of his glory.