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Chap. VIII.
BISHOP WILLIAM.
113
But, whether it was the fault of the Bishop or the
lamb, the choir had to be built up again. All Bishop
William required was to be left alone, and ill came on
those who interfered with him. When, in the
sixteenth century, Bishop Ume, a most meddling
prelate, caused his bones to be disinterred and placed in a
pewter coffin in a hole of a pillar of the choir, over which
his portrait was painted in fresco (you can see them there
now through the grating), the workmen deposited his
remains profanely in a corner. Then, suddenly, there
exuded from the relics a smell—not of old bones, but a
perfume so divine all men declared it was too delicious.
They snuffed at his skull, they smelt his cross-bones—it
was a fascination too powerful. Strange to say, wash,
scrub, do what they would, the perfume clung to their
hands—impossible to free themselves from it; and now
commenced the punishment of their audacity. One of
the offenders became dumb, and died at the end of three
days in exquisite torment, of a malady which commenced
by his nose; another in vain did penance, and publicly
confessed his fault; none of the offenders escaped ; the
last died after three months’ unheard-of suffering. So
you see Bishop William, friend of the good King Svend,
was not a person to be trifled with.
We have all read the story of the sacrilege
committed by the above-mentioned monarch — how,
enraged at the harmless jest of his courtiers at a banquet,
he caused them to be slain next morning before the
altar during the performance of matinsong; how
Bishop William, horror-struck at this iniquity,
publicly excommunicated the King at the church door
as he was about to enter; how the officers of the King
would have slain the Bishop, bat Svend, seized with
VOL. i. I
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