“There were thirty thousand, I heard, on the banks of the Don on one side; for my lords Nevill and Lumley and others had ridden in with St. Cuthbert his banner and arms, and five thousand men, besides those that came in from all the country.  And on the further side was my Lord Shrewsbury for the King, with the Duke and his men.  Master Aske had all he could do to keep his men back from being at them.  Some of the young sparks were as terriers at a rat-hole.  There was a parley held on the bridge, for Norfolk knew well that he must gain time; and Aske sent his demands to his Grace, and that was the mistake—­”

The man beat one hand into the other and looked round with a kindling force—­

“That was the mistake!  He was too loyal for such work, and did not guess at their craft.  Well, while we waited there, our men began to make off; their farms were wanting them, and their wives and the rest, and we melted.  Master Aske had to be everywhere at once, it was no fault of his.  My Lord Derby was marching up upon the houses again, and seeking to drive the monks out once more.  But there was not an act of violence done by our men; not a penny-piece taken or a house burned.  They were peaceable folk, and asked no more than that their old religion should be given back to them, and that they might worship God as they had always done.”

He went on to explain how the time had been wasted in those fruitless negotiations, and how the force dwindled day by day.  Various answers were attempted by the King, containing both threats and promises, and in these, as in all else the hand of Cromwell was evident.  Finally, towards the end of November, the insurgents gathered again for another meeting with the King’s representatives at Doncaster, summoned by beacons on the top of the high Yorkshire moors, and by the reversed pealing of the church bells.

“We had a parley among ourselves at Pomfret first, and had a great to-do, though I saw little of it; and drew up our demands; and then set out for Doncaster again.  The duke was there, with the King’s pardon in his hand, in the Whitefriars; and a promise that all should be as we asked.  So we went back to Pomfret, well-pleased, and the next day on St. Thomas’ hill the herald read the pardon to us all; and we, poor fools, thought that his Grace meant to keep his word—­”

The monk looked bitterly round, sneering with his white strong teeth set together like a savage dog’s; and there was silence for a moment.  The Sub-Prior looked nervously round the faces of his subjects, for this was treasonable talk to hear.

Then the man went on.  He himself it seemed had retired again to the little cell where he had seen the canons settled in a few weeks previously; and heard nothing of what was going forward; except that the heralds were going about the country, publishing the King’s pardon to all who had taken part in the Rebellion, and affixing it to the market-cross in each town and village, with touching messages from the King relating to the grief which he had felt on hearing that his dear children believed such tales about him.