necessary; but time was of small value in the
twelfth century. Two other Bishops followed, with long speeches: and
then the Council adjourned for dinner, the Earl of Oxford being their
host.

On re-assembling about eleven o'clock, the King commanded the prisoners
to be brought up. Up they came, the company of thirty--men, women, and
children, Gerhardt the foremost at the bar.

"Who are thou?" he was asked.

"I am a German named Gerhardt, born in the dominions of the Duke of
Francia, an elector of the Empire."

"Art thou the leader of this company?"

"I am."

"Wherefore earnest thou to this land?"

"Long ago, in my childhood, I had read of the blessed Boniface, who,
being an Englishman, travelled into Almayne to teach our people the
faith of Christ. I desired to pay back to your land something of the
debt we owed her, by bringing back to her the faith of Christ."

"Didst thou ignorantly imagine us without it?"

"I thought," replied Gerhardt in his quiet manner, "that you could
scarcely have too much of it."

"What is thy calling?"

"While in this country, I have followed the weaver's craft."

"Art thou a lettered man?"

"I am."

"Try him," said one of the Bishops. A Latin book was handed up to
Gerhardt, from which he readily construed some sentences, until the
Council declared itself satisfied on that point. This man before them,
whatever else he might be, was no mere ignorant peasant.

"Are the rest of thy company lettered men?"

"No. They are mostly peasants."

"Have they gone about preaching, as thou hast?"

"The men have done so."

"And how can ignorant peasants teach abstruse doctrines?"

"I do not think they attempted that. They kept to the simple
doctrines."

"What understandest thou by that?" Gerhardt was beginning to answer,
when the Bishop of Winchester interposed with another question. He was
Prince Henry of Blois, the brother of King Stephen, and a better warrior
than a cleric. "Art thou a priest?"

"I am not."

"Go on," said the Bishop of Lincoln, who led the examination. "What
meanest thou by the faith of Christ? What dost thou believe about
Christ?"

Gerhardt's reply on this head was so satisfactory that the Bishop of
Worcester--not long appointed--whispered to his brother of Winchester,
"The man is all right!"

"Wait," returned the more experienced and pugnacious prelate. "We have
not come to the crux yet."

"You call yourselves Christians, then?" resumed