The swords were hastily thrust into their scabbards, the missiles ceased.  The other brother had reached the Jew.

“Vengeance is mine, I will repay,” said he.  “He is the prisoner of the Lord; accursed be he who touches him; may his hand rot off, and his light be extinguished in darkness.”

All was now silence as the first brother, pale with recent illness, but radiant with emotion, began to speak.

And Martin preached, taking his illustrations from the circumstances of the day.

“The object of the Crucifixion,” he said, “had yet to be attained amongst them.”

A crucifix had, as he heard, shone with a mysterious light, and one had desecrated it with his tongue.  But, worse than that, he saw a thousand desecrated forms before him who ought to be living crucifixes, for were they not told to crucify the flesh with its affections and lusts, to remain upon their voluntary crosses till Christ said, “Come down.  Well done, good and faithful servant.  Enter thou into the joy of the Lord”?  And were they doing this?  Were they repaying the love of Calvary, as for instance the saints of that day, Saints Philip and James, had done; giving heart for heart, love for love; or were they worshipping dread and ghastly idols, their own lusts and passions?  In short, were they to be companions of the angels—­God’s holy ones?  Or the slaves and sport of the cruel and fiery fiends for evermore?

The power of an orator, and Martin was a born orator, over the men of the middle ages was marvellous.  Few could read, and books were scarce as jewels.  The tongue, the living voice, had to do the work which the public press does now, as well as its own, and the preacher was a power.  But those medieval sermons were full of quaint illustrations.

Martin described the angels as weeping because men would not turn and love the Lord who had died for them.  He described the joy over one repentant sinner, the horror over the sins which crucified the Lord afresh.  They were waiting now to set the bells of heaven a ringing, when the news came of one soul converted and turned to the Lord—­one repentant sinner.

“They are waiting now,” he said.  “Will you keep them waiting up there with their hands on the ropes?”

Cries of “No! no!” broke from several.

“And there be the cruel, rampant, remorseless devils with their claws, hoofs, and horns.  They be terrible, but their hearts of fire are the worst, those evil hearts burning with hatred to the sons of men.  Now, on my way I saw a vision:  we rested at a holy house of God, where be many brethren who strive to glorify Him, according to the rule of Saint Benedict.  And as we were all at prayers in the chapel, methought it was full of devils whispering all sorts of temptations, as they did to Saint Antony, trying to keep the monks from their prayers and meditations.  And lo, I came to Lewes, and methought one devil only sat on the gate, and swayed the hearts of all the men in the town.  He had little to do.  The world and the flesh were helping him, and just now it was the devil of cruelty.”