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From the vine-yard
and the vine-press, from the bouvary or ox-farm, from the marl-pits
and salterns, even from the distant iron-works of Sowley and the
outlying grange of St. Leonard's, they had all turned their steps
homewards. It had been no sudden call. A swift messenger had
the night before sped round to the outlying dependencies of the
Abbey, and had left the summons for every monk to be back in the
cloisters by the third hour after noontide. So urgent a message
had not been issued within the memory of old lay-brother
Athanasius, who had cleaned the Abbey knocker since the year
after the Battle of Bannockburn.
A stranger who knew nothing either of the Abbey or of its immense
resources might have gathered from the appearance of the brothers
some conception of the varied duties which they were called upon
to perform, and of the busy, wide-spread life which centred in
the old monastery. As they swept gravely in by twos and by
threes, with bended heads and muttering lips there were few who
did not bear upon them some signs of their daily toil.


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