"I am he, Lord Bishop, who struck thee on the mouth. The insult was intolerable. The old law provided--an eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth. If thou goest by the law of Moses deal with me as seems right. What the Gospel law is, maybe thou art too recent in Holy Orders and too new to the study of the Sacred Scriptures to be aware."
"Thou art insolent. But as I do not for a moment take thee to be the deceased Pabo----"
"Methinks a taller man by three fingers' breadth, and leaner in face certainly, as also browner in complexion, and with cheek-bones standing out more forcibly."
Pabo hardly knew what to think of the bishop's words. It occurred to him that the prelate was beating about for some excuse for pardoning him whilst saving his dignity.
He smiled and said, "If it be a matter of doubt with thee, whether I be indeed Pabo----"
"Oh! by no means," interrupted Bernard, "I have no manner of doubt. On the surest testimony I know that the Archpriest Pabo was consumed by fire from heaven. This is known far and wide. His Majesty the King is aware of it; it is a matter of common talk."
"It is most assuredly true. I have the testimony of credible eye-witnesses."
"Yet," said Pabo, "my own wife knows me."
"Of her I can believe anything," said Bernard, thrusting his seat a little back, to give more space between himself and the prisoner.
"Hearken unto me," said the bishop; "I have heard say of these Welsh that they keep their King Arthur somewhere, ready to produce him in the hour of need, to fight against their rightful lord and sovereign the King of England. And I warrant ye--they will turn out some scullion knave, and put a tinsel crown about his head, and shout 'God save King Arthur!' and make believe it is he come from his long sleep to fight against us. But we are prepared against such make-believes and mumming kings. And so, in like manner, when Pabo, Archpriest of Caio, is dead, burned to a cinder, as it has been most surely reported to us, then up starts such as you and assume to be what you are not, so as to fan the flame of discontent among the people, and inspire them with hopes that can never be fulfilled; and so persuade them to resist rightful authority. Have I not appointed my late chaplain to be Archpriest in the room of that unhappy man who, for temerity in lifting his hand against his ecclesiastical father, was evidently, before the eyes of all men, smitten by Heaven? I, of all men, I, who was struck in the face, and thereby lost my teeth, have a right to recognize the impious man who smote me. But I tell thee I do not identify thee. Further, I am ready to declare, and if need be, to swear, that thou art not the man. Thou art but a sorry makeshift. Who should know him, if not I?"