“True enough,” quoth Benedict. “Scent out the bear before you set the dogs on. My light riders know the ways.”
“Then, sirs,” said Jocelyn, “we are agreed on this point—if Samson is at Marvail, and the fords are not held, we will swoop at night and seize the town.”
“Plain as your Mass Book, Bishop,” said he of the Mountains.
Jocelyn made the sign of the cross in the air.
“God bless ye, good sons of the Church,” he said. “The saints are with us. And assuredly ye shall prosper.”
It is the common fate of reformers that they inspire the enmity both of the ignorant and the self-seeking, and hence the larger portion of humanity is arrayed against them. Ruffian and blinded saint meet and kiss over the corpse of an innovator. Many a Prometheus is torn and rent by the insensate malice of the age. The fate of fools is to live; that of great spirits that they should be immolated by the savage present for the blessing of a fairer future. Each martyr lights a beacon fire that hurls light and splendour within the portals of the coming century.
Thus when Reynaud of Vanclure fell at midnight with five hundred men upon the heretics of Marvail, he butchered them with a good conscience, in the full belief of the efficacy of the deed. Samson’s men were caught asleep, snugly housed in the town. Half armed and dazed, they were hunted out and slaughtered in the streets. Samson himself was taken alive while fighting with his back against a wall; bound and pinioned, tied upon a horse, led from the town under the escort of a strong body of men-at-arms.
When the news was brought to Jocelyn at the fords of the Lorient, he gave the messenger a hundred silver pieces out of his own strong box, licked his lips, and ordered a triumphal service to be sung. In the woods under the great ilex trees and pines the soldiers mustered, while the hoarse chanting of the monks rose on the silent air. Through the ranks were carried the Sacred Banner and the Cross Processional, knights and warriors kneeling, kissing their naked swords. Samson the arch-heretic had fallen into their hands; God had greatly blessed the cause of Holy Church.
The day after the night attack, on Marvail, Count Reynaud marched south again to the Lorient, leaving two hundred men to garrison the town. He was eager to bear so precious and notorious a burden beyond the river, to deliver Samson to the mercies of the Church. The Heretic was brought bound upon a horse, Reynaud’s men massed round him, tauntingly exultant, flinging mud and mockery at his head.