The Lady of Blossholme

shelter of a hill and surrounded by a high wall. Within this wall lay also the great g

er noble ladies who accompanied her there, or sought its refuge in after days, had done likewise, so that it grew in power and in wealth, till at its most prosperous time over twenty nuns told their beads within its walls. Then the proud Abbey rose upon the opposing hill, and obtained some royal charter that the P

ut six nuns, one of whom was, in fact, a servant, while an aged monk from the Abbey celebrated Mass in the fair chapel where lay the bones of so many who had gone before. Also on certain feasts the Abbot himself attended, confessed the nuns, and gra

she had gone there daily to be taught by the Prioress Matilda, for every head of the Priory took this name in turn to the honour of their foundress and in accordance with the provisions of her will. Happy years they were, as t

a butcher's knife, and Jonah being shot into the very gateway of a castle where his family awaited him, from the mouth of a gigantic carp with goggle eyes, for the simple artist had found his whale's model in a stewpond. Well she remembered those delightful pictures, and how often she had wondered whether Isaac could escape bleeding to

dreamed, till presently the door opened and Mother Matilda appeared, followed by Emlyn, who bore a tray, on which stood a silver bowl that smoked. There was no mistaking Mother Matilda in her black Benedictine robe and her white whimple, wearing the great silver crucifix which was her badge of office, and the gol

her pillow. Thereon Emlyn, setting down the tray with a clatter upon a table, ran to her, and putting her arms about her, began to scold, as was her fashion, but in

verend Mother

answered the Prioress in her sweet, low vo

e I been here

for every day-for in such places time slips by-but

was burned three

n turned her face to the wall, while the Mothe

"I think she has that which will not let her die

g before her mind recovered. Indeed, she glided about the place like a ghost in her black mourning robe, for

murdered Christopher had left his image with her. If she lived a child would be born to him, and therefore she would surely live. One evening, on her knees, she wh

why I do not understand, since the man was he whom your heart chose, and you were we

cely in a stubborn voice. "If I am not

t for us unlearned women to question the wisdom of

h him to murder my father and my husband, to seize my heritage, or to hold my p

ong, although to us his acts seem wrong? But let us not talk of these matters, of which, indeed, I only know from that rough-tongued Emlyn of yours, who, I am told, was not afraid to curse him terribly. I was about to s

er," answered Cicely, a

r. Truly she could not understand, for unless all these tales were false-and how could they be false?-this Abbot, whom her high-bred English nature had al

d it not been celebrated in a church? But that a child was to be born among them-ah! that was a joyful thing, a thing that had not happened for quite two hundred years, when, alas!-so said tradition and their records-th

with this same matter. Indeed, poor, weak-witted, old Sister Bridget, who hitherto had been secretly looked down upon because she was the only one of the seven who was not of gentle birth, now became very popular. For Sister Bridget in her youth had been married and borne two

strong, persecuted her with advice and with noxious mixtures which she brewed, till Emlyn, des

they were ten times more so. Soon they discovered that she and her servant, Emlyn Stower, were, in fact, prisoners, which meant that they, her hostesses, were prisoners also. None were al

s deaf and set there to spy on them, little news ever reached them. They were almost dead to the world, which

f a sudden Sister Bridget hurried up saying that the Abbot of Blossholme desired their presence. At this tidings Cicely turned faint, and Emlyn rated

thrown her medicines out of the window, began to weep, protesting that she had meant no harm, til

istress?" asked Emlyn, as

in his net, and will he spare the last fish in the pool-a very narrow pool?" and she glanced at the hig

o murder me; who knows? Only then the secret of the jewels will go with me, for that is mine alone; not yours even, for if you had it they would squeeze it out of you. Meanwhile he will try to profess you a nun, but push

ly used for the entertainment of visitors and on other great occasions, and close to them sa

'm but just from London, and, although our enemy Anne Boleyn has lost her wanton head, I tell you the danger is great. Money must be had to stir up rebellion, for who can arm without it, and but little comes from Spain. I am in treaty to sell the Foterell lands for what they

"-she hesitated and looked about her nervously, to see Cicely and Emlyn standing behind

d Cicely. "Sister Bridget told us that

o wait him in my chamber," sai

you, whereof by your leave we will not speak, since there is no use in stirring up such memories, I grieve to see you in that worldly garb, who thought you would have changed it for a better. But ere you entered the h

oliness, but between her and man and his iniquity. Still I can

ent forward and whispered in the Abbot's ear words

est. Pity, though," he added, with a sneer on his dark face, "since many a year has gone by sin

ng monk in Spain-I forget his name-who brought certain ladies to the torture in some such matter. But who talks of

e is no lawful marriage the

lawfully inherits. Say, my Lord Abbot, di

r, Cicely, who had been sil

also, if you can. In my case it matters little. But slander not my child, if one should be born to me, nor dare to touch its rig

compelled theirs. Clement Maldon, who knew the world and how a she-wolf can f

vapouring of a child that is not and may never be?

it. I'd rather that it went unbaptized to it

ed his

, of which I must speak to you, my daug

y, and I am unrepentant, a wicked woman not fit to take a holy vow, to

hand, for the she-w

hing but a form, and one I fear you cannot read, nor in faith can I," and with a somewh

re swiftly, for now the title you can give is rotten as last year's apples, and I'll sign nothing. Bear witness, Mother Matilda, and you, Emlyn Stower, that I have signed and will sign nothing. Clem

wolf's fangs, an

uld you go?

y cause before him, as my father w

she-wolf had loosed her hold to growl-t

you, Cicely Foterell. The times are rough, rebellion is in the air, and many wild me

o you remember the angel who spoke with me in

irit, then;

God to help me, and last night that angel came again and spoke in my sleep. He told me to fear you not at all, my Lord Abbot; however sor

and gasped in horror, but the Abbot lea

a witch by fire. Mother Matilda, I command you, on your oath, keep this witch fast and make report to me of all her sorceries.

broke into a little scornful laugh, and, turn

stayed behind, a smile o

hough all your dice were

ned on her an

iar, and certainly you shall burn even though she esca

teach her how to lay him. Nay, threaten not. Why, the rack mi

d; then sudde

me the jewels and you shall go free, and

und upon his body, then either he threw them away or Jeffrey Stokes carried them t

led from Shefton a servant there saw you with

held them; only my mistress's love-lett

e box, and where

letters. Surely, Maldonado," she added, with meaning, "you should know that it is not always wise to

was wed to Christopher she wore those very gems; I have it from those who saw her decke

but now you called a wanton. Look you, Sir Abbot, we will fence no more.

he asked, striking hi

nd a secret panel in her chamber, purposing to return for them later. Go, rake out the ashes; you might find a cracked

he was emotional, and could not help

aughed

e how will you gain your end? It was the jewels that you needed, not the Shefton lands, which are worth little now-a-days, and will soon be worth less. Why, one of those pink pearls placed among the Jews would buy three parishes, with their halls thrown in. For the sake of those jewels you have brought death on some and misery on some, and on your own soul damnation without end, though had you but been wise and consulted me-why, they, or some of them, might have been yours. Sir John was no fool; he would

to this long and bitter spee

nd each other, coming from the same blood. You

well turns on you and Henry finds you out, taking with you all the gold that you can gather, and bribe the Emperor Charles to give you a bishopric in Granada or elsewhere-not near Seville, f

oked at her

ge comforts your counsel might be

ad against them,

ers it will wear an archbishop's mitre, or a cardinal's hat, or perhaps someth

" exclaimed Emlyn, wit

youth, but they are long ago repented of, and for such there is plentiful

sat herself down, set her elbows on the table

t the unrepented errors of your age? Sir John Foterell, for instance; Sir Christopher Harflete, fo

have been done, every one of them, not for my own sake, but for that of the Church, to o

cle of her temple, whence Satan shows you all the king

eech; indeed, Emlyn's apt illustration seemed to

e than any woman that I know. Also you have knowledge both of the world and of what lies beyond it, being what superstitious fools call a witch, but I, a prophetess or a seer. These things come to you with your

er right, also it was this business of the heresy of my father that first brought you to Blossholm

urther that we had been old enemies in Spain, which is why I was

d, and he

gypsy mother. She died, by her own hand it i

iends. You mean, to escape being burnt by you as a witch, because she h

d taught you all she knew. The rest of the history is short. You fell in love with old yeoman Bo

suppressed passion. "The witch's fair daughter was the Church's ward, and you ruled the Abbot of that time, and he forced me into marriage with old Peter Stower, as his third wife. I cursed him, and he died, as I warned him that he would, and I bore a child, and it died. Then with what

-no more. At Cranwell Towers you called down evil on me. Take off that ban, for I'll speak truth, it weighs heavy on my mind. Let us bury the past; let us clasp hands and be

give me?" asked

desire shall be done in this realm-yes, and across the world. I speak no lie; I pledge my soul on it, and the honour of those I serve, which I h

ing m

that were not burned, and that this child of the Lady Cicely shall not chance to live to ta

sure you will pay what you promise-s

r, I am master here, you are my prisoners. Few know that you live in this place, except a handful of weak-brained women who will fear to speak-puppets that mus

drew it to her, and taking the roses into her hands, threw the

answer here." Presently, as he gazed at her, fascinated, she breathed upon the

half of myself and the Lady Cicely, and her husband Sir Christopher, and the ch

silence. Then the A

your own h

no answer, he turned and walked towards the

th it is I choose. Play your game, my Lord Abbot, and I'll play mine, remembering that God holds the stakes. Meanwhile I confirm

she upset the bowl upon th