"
The chapter-house was in an uproar. Never in the long and
decorous history of the Abbey had such a scene been witnessed
within its walls. The monks themselves seemed for an instant to
be infected by this spirit of daring revolt. Their own lifelong
fetters hung more loosely as they viewed this unheard-of defiance
of authority. They broke from their seats on either side and
huddled half-scared, half-fascinated, in a large half-circle round
the defiant captive, chattering, pointing, grimacing, a scandal
for all time. Scourges should fall and penance be done for many a
long week before the shadow of that day should pass from Waverley.
But meanwhile there was no effort to bring them back to their
rule. Everything was chaos and disorder. The Abbot had left his
seat of justice and hurried angrily forward, to be engulfed and
hustled in the crowd of his own monks like a sheep-dog who finds
himself entangled amid a flock.
Only the sacrist stood clear. He had taken shelter behind the
half-dozen archers, who looked with some approval and a good deal
of indecision at this bold fugitive from justice.
"On him!" cried the sacrist. "Shall he defy the authority of the
court, or shall one man hold six of you at bay? Close in upon him
and seize him. You, Baddlesmere, why do you hold back?"
The man in question, a tall bushy-bearded fellow, clad like the
others in green jerkin and breeches with high brown boots,
advanced slowly, sword in hand, against Nigel.
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