Again the voice: Hilarius strove to reach up to the grated window of the cell - it was too high above him. An overpowering desire came upon him to ask the Ankret of his future. With a spring he caught at the window's upright bars; his cap flew off and he hung bare-headed, the sun behind him, gazing into the cell.
On his knees was an old man whose long white hair lay in matted locks upon his shoulders, and whose beard fell far below his girdle. The skin of his face was like grey parchment, and his deep-set eyes glowed strangely in their hollow cavities.
Hilarius strove to speak, but words failed him.
The Ankret looking up saw the beautiful face at his window with its aureole of yellow hair, and stretched out his bony withered hands.
"Blessed Michael, Blessed Michael, the messenger of the Lord!" he cried, gaining strength from the vision.
"What would'st thou, Father!" said Hilarius, afraid.
"Nay, who am I that I should speak? and yet, and yet - " the old man's voice grew weaker - "the Bread of Heaven, that I may die in peace."
He stretched out his hands again entreatingly, and Hilarius was sore perplexed.
"Dost thou crave speech of the Abbat, my Father?"
The Ankret looked troubled.
"Blessed Michael, Blessed Michael!" he murmured entreatingly.
Hilarius' hands hurt him sore; it was clear that the holy man saw some wondrous vision, and 'twas no gain time to speech of him.
"Blessed Michael, Blessed Michael!" quavered the old, tired voice.
Hilarius felt himself slipping; with a great effort he held fast and braced himself against the wall "Blessed Michael, Blessed Michael!" - The appeal in the half-dead face was awful.
Hilarius' grip failed; he slid to the ground bruised and sore from the unaccustomed strain, but well pleased. True, he had gained no counsel from the Ankret, but he had seen the holy man - ay, even when he was visited by a heavenly messenger, and that in itself should bring a blessing. He turned to go, when a sudden thought came to him. There was no one in sight, no sound but the failing cry from the tired old saint. Hilarius doffed his cap again and his fresh young voice rose clear and sweet through the thin still air:-"Iesu, dulcis memoria, Dans vera cordis gaudia;Sed super mel et omnia Dulcis ejus praesentia."
At the fourth stanza his memory failed him; but he could hear the Ankret crooning to himself the words he had sung, and crying softly like a little child.
Hilarius went home with wonder in his heart, but said no word of what had befallen him; and that night the Ankret died, and the Sub-Prior gave him the last sacraments.
Next day it was known that a vision had been vouchsafed the holy man before his end; and that the Prince of Angels himself had brought his message of release: and Hilarius, greatly content to think that the Blessed Michael had indeed been so near him, kept his own counsel.
He told Lady Eleanor of Martin's words.
"God save the King!" she said, and went into her oratory to pray: and there was need of prayer, for the Minstrel's foreboding was no idle one. Ere London knew it the Plague was at her gates; yet the King, undeterred, came to spend Christmas at Westminster; but Martin was not in his train. Men's mirth waxed hot by reason of the terror they would not recognise. Banquet and revel, allegory and miracle play; pageant of beautiful women and brave men; junketing, ay, and rioting - thus they flung a defiance at the enemy; and then fled: for across the clash of the feast bells sounded the mournful note of funeral dirge and requiem.
Eleanor, knowing Hilarius' ardent longing for school and master, prayed her father to set him on the way to St Alban's instead of keeping him with them to follow a fugitive Court. The good knight, feeling one page more or less mattered little when Death was so ready to serve, and anxious for the lad's safety and well-being, assented gladly enough. So it came to pass that on the Feast of the Three Kings Hilarius found himself on the Watling Street Way, a well-filled purse in his pocket, but a fearful heart under his jerkin; for the Death he had never seen loomed large, a great king, and by all accounts a most mighty hunter.
