Read Online Margaret the Queen by Nigel Tranter - Free Book Online
Authors: Nigel Tranter
Tags: Historical Novel
Ads: Link
may God forgive your arrogance!"
"God indeed forgive me my unwitting sins. In this we agree. But God has given us wits. To use. To discern His truths. And to discern error, with His teachings in Christ. And it required little wit to discern on what that ritual was grounded. Not so much on the blessed Last Supper of Our Lord as on ancient pagan sun-worship!"
He stared at her. Even Magdalen looked wondering.
"Can you not see it? The circle, out in the open air. This graven stone in the midst. The turning east, to the sunrise. The administration as following round the hours of the sun's course. The shouting, the standing. Look at this stone, covered with strange animals. What of Christ is there in that? And these crosses, more like flowers, or sun's rays. Recollect that great stone at which we rested, walking here from the ship. This is just such another. Here is the shadow of sun-worship, idolatry!"
"Dear God!" the young man said.
"Can you deny it, Maldred — now that it is shown to you?"
He was no theologian and no more versed in matters religious than most youths of his age. But he had certain basic loyalties, a respect for ancient tradition and his race, some pride — and a resentment at being catechised by mere girls.
"My father — who is abbot you will mind, as well as earl — told me once that the old saints who brought the gospel here from Ireland, the Brethren of Columba, used of purpose to preach at the stone-circles and standing-stones. They used them, set up Christ's Cross within them. Carved crosses on the stones. Built their cashels and churches there. And why not? That was where the folk had always worshipped. They taught them the true worship — but used what the folk knew to do it. Taught the true meaning of what they had groped for. In the sun and the seasons, the stones, the running water, the sowing and the harvest." He shook his head. "They, the old saints, were less proud than you, I think!"
Margaret took a deep breath, eyeing him steadily. "I pray always to be saved from the sin of spiritual pride. For it is damnable," she said. "But in this I believe that you are wrong. Wholly wrong." And she moved off, back to the hall-house.
"You are a very rash young man, Maldred Abbot's Son!" Magdalen told him. "But you will learn, in time."
"Is all the learning to be on my part? None on yours? None on hers?"
"Oh, I am learning a lot!" she assured, as she left him.
Later, there was further controversy when, after the Athelings had held their own Mass, Maldred went to them and informed that he was going to the Abbey of Culross on an errand for the Queen. It was on the firth about six miles away to the west and he wondered whether any of the visitors would like to accompany him, to see something of the country and people? The prince and his mother showed no interest, but Margaret thanked him for the thought. She asked, however, if she might know the reason for the errand.
"The Keledei at Culross are the best beekeepers in the land," he told her. "They keep the Queen's bees for her. And make the palace candles with their wax. Her Highness requires a new supply of candles. I go for them, rather than a servant, for my younger brother, Kerald, is training there to be a monk. Or, at least, one day to be abbot." He grinned. "He should be more learned in matters of the Church than I am. Perhaps he can convince ' you that we are not such pagan idolators as you think!"
"I did not say that, Maldred," she reproved. "Only that that ritual we saw back there had its roots in sun-worship." She shook her lovely head. "These candles — are they required for worship? Do you light candles? To the Blessed Virgin and other saints?"
"Why should any do that? The saints have no need for lights in heaven, have they? No, they are for the house. You, here, need more . . ."
"Then surely they should not be fetched on the Lord's Day?" she said.
"Why not?"
"Because it is a day for rest. For worship and meditation only. When no
"God indeed forgive me my unwitting sins. In this we agree. But God has given us wits. To use. To discern His truths. And to discern error, with His teachings in Christ. And it required little wit to discern on what that ritual was grounded. Not so much on the blessed Last Supper of Our Lord as on ancient pagan sun-worship!"
He stared at her. Even Magdalen looked wondering.
"Can you not see it? The circle, out in the open air. This graven stone in the midst. The turning east, to the sunrise. The administration as following round the hours of the sun's course. The shouting, the standing. Look at this stone, covered with strange animals. What of Christ is there in that? And these crosses, more like flowers, or sun's rays. Recollect that great stone at which we rested, walking here from the ship. This is just such another. Here is the shadow of sun-worship, idolatry!"
"Dear God!" the young man said.
"Can you deny it, Maldred — now that it is shown to you?"
He was no theologian and no more versed in matters religious than most youths of his age. But he had certain basic loyalties, a respect for ancient tradition and his race, some pride — and a resentment at being catechised by mere girls.
"My father — who is abbot you will mind, as well as earl — told me once that the old saints who brought the gospel here from Ireland, the Brethren of Columba, used of purpose to preach at the stone-circles and standing-stones. They used them, set up Christ's Cross within them. Carved crosses on the stones. Built their cashels and churches there. And why not? That was where the folk had always worshipped. They taught them the true worship — but used what the folk knew to do it. Taught the true meaning of what they had groped for. In the sun and the seasons, the stones, the running water, the sowing and the harvest." He shook his head. "They, the old saints, were less proud than you, I think!"
Margaret took a deep breath, eyeing him steadily. "I pray always to be saved from the sin of spiritual pride. For it is damnable," she said. "But in this I believe that you are wrong. Wholly wrong." And she moved off, back to the hall-house.
"You are a very rash young man, Maldred Abbot's Son!" Magdalen told him. "But you will learn, in time."
"Is all the learning to be on my part? None on yours? None on hers?"
"Oh, I am learning a lot!" she assured, as she left him.
Later, there was further controversy when, after the Athelings had held their own Mass, Maldred went to them and informed that he was going to the Abbey of Culross on an errand for the Queen. It was on the firth about six miles away to the west and he wondered whether any of the visitors would like to accompany him, to see something of the country and people? The prince and his mother showed no interest, but Margaret thanked him for the thought. She asked, however, if she might know the reason for the errand.
"The Keledei at Culross are the best beekeepers in the land," he told her. "They keep the Queen's bees for her. And make the palace candles with their wax. Her Highness requires a new supply of candles. I go for them, rather than a servant, for my younger brother, Kerald, is training there to be a monk. Or, at least, one day to be abbot." He grinned. "He should be more learned in matters of the Church than I am. Perhaps he can convince ' you that we are not such pagan idolators as you think!"
"I did not say that, Maldred," she reproved. "Only that that ritual we saw back there had its roots in sun-worship." She shook her lovely head. "These candles — are they required for worship? Do you light candles? To the Blessed Virgin and other saints?"
"Why should any do that? The saints have no need for lights in heaven, have they? No, they are for the house. You, here, need more . . ."
"Then surely they should not be fetched on the Lord's Day?" she said.
"Why not?"
"Because it is a day for rest. For worship and meditation only. When no
Similar Books
