august medieval city, far more beautiful then than
now, rose beyond the trees in the park.

But the chaplain saw this, and with the earl's permission lodged
the neophyte in a chamber adjacent to his own "cell," where he gave
himself up to his beloved books, only varying the monotony by an
occasional stroll with his friend Hubert, who never turned his back
upon his former friend, and endured much chaffing and teasing in
consequence.

Most rapidly Martin's facile brain acquired the learning of the
day--Latin became as his mother tongue, for it was then taught
conversationally, and the chaplain seldom or never spoke to him in
any other language.

And after a few months his zealous tutor thought him prepared for
the important step in his life, and wrote to the great master of
scholastic philosophy already mentioned, Adam de Maresco, to
bespeak admission into one of the Franciscan schools or colleges
then existing at Oxford. There was no penny or other post--a
special messenger had to be sent.

The answer came in due course, and at the beginning of the Easter
term Martin was told to prepare for his journey to the University.
He was not then more than fifteen, but that was a common age for
matriculation in those days.

The morning came, so long looked for, and with a strange feeling
Martin arose with daybreak from his couch, and looked from his
casement upon the little world he was leaving. A busy hum already
ascended from beneath as our Martin put his head out of the window;
he heard the clank of the armourer's hammer on mail and weapon, he
heard the clamorous noise of the hungry hounds who were being fed,
he heard the scolding of the cooks and menials who were preparing
the breakfast in the hall, he heard the merry laughter of the boys
in the pages' chamber. But soon one sound dominated over all--boom!
boom! boom! came the great bell of the chapel, filling hill and
dale, park and field, with its echoes. Father Edmund was about to
say the daily mass, and all must go to begin the day with prayer
who were not reasonably hindered--such was the earl's command.

And soon the chaplain called, "Martin, Martin."

"I am ready, sire."

"Looking round on the home thou art leaving, thou wilt find Oxford
much fairer."

"But thou wilt not be there."

"My good friend Adam will do more for thee than ever I could."

"Nay, but for thee, sire, I had fallen into utter recklessness;
thou hast dragged me from the mire.

"Sit Deo