Cicely had sunk to sleep at last, and Emlyn watched her, for, sincethere was nowhere else to put them, they were back in their own room,but guarded by armed men, lest they should escape. Of this, as Emlynknew well, there was little chance, for even if they were once outsidethe Priory walls, how could they get away without friends to help, orfood to eat, or horses to carry them? They would be run down within amile. Moreover, there was the child, which Cicely would never leave,and, after all she had undergone, she herself was not fit to travel.Therefore it was that Emlyn sat sleepless, full of bitter wrath andfear, for she could see no hope. All was black as the night about them.
The door opened, and was shut and locked again. Then, from behind thecurtain, appeared the tall figure of the Prioress, carrying a candlethat made a star of light upon the shadows. As she stood there holdingit up and looking about her, something came into Emlyn's mind. Perhapsshe would help, she who loved Cicely. Did she not look like a figure ofhope, with her sweet face and her taper in the gloom? Emlyn advanced tomeet her, her finger on her lips.
"She sleeps; wake her not," she said. "Have you come to tell us that weburn to-morrow?"
"Nay, Emlyn; the Old Bishop has commanded that it shall not be for aweek. He would have time to get across England first. Indeed, had it notbeen for the beating of him in the dark and the twisting of the neck ofBrother Ambrose, I believe that he would not have suffered it at all,for fear of trouble afterwards. But now he is full of rage, and swearsthat he was set upon by evil spirits in the hall, and that those wholoosed them shall not live. Emlyn, _who_ killed Father Ambrose? Was itmen or----?"
"Men, I think, Mother. The devil does not twist necks except in monkishdreams. Is it wonderful that my lady--the greatest lady of all theseparts and the most foully treated--should have friends left to her? Why,if they were not curs, ere now her people would have pulled that Abbeystone from stone and cut the throat of every man within its walls."
"Emlyn," said the Prioress again, "in the name of Jesus and on yoursoul, tell me true, is there witchcraft in all this business? And ifnot, what is its meaning?"
"As much witchcraft as dwells in your gentle heart; no more. A man didthese things; I'll not give you his name, lest it should be wrung fromyou. A man wore Foterell's armour, and came here by a secret hole totake counsel with us in the chapel. A man burnt the Abbey dormers andthe stacks, and harried the beasts with a goatskin on his head, anddragged the skull of drunken Andrew from his grave. Doubtless it was hishand also that twisted Ambrose's neck because he struck me."
The two women looked each other in the eyes.
"Ah!" said the Prioress. "I think I can guess now; but, Emlyn, youchoose rough tools. Well, fear not; your secret is safe with me." Shepaused a moment; then went on, "Oh! I am glad, who feared lest theFiend's finger was in it all, as, in truth, they believe. Now I see mypath clear, and will follow it to the death. Yes, yes; I will save youall or die."
"What path, Mother?"
"Emlyn, you have heard no tidings for these many months, but I have.Listen; there is much afoot. The King, or the Lord Cromwell, or both,make war upon the lesser Houses, dissolving them, seizing their goods,turning the religious out of them upon the world to starve. His Gracesends Royal Commissioners to visit them, and be judge and jury both.They were coming here, but I have friends and some fortune of my own,who was not born meanly or ill-dowered, and I found a way to buy themoff. One of these Commissioners, Thomas Legh, as I heard only to-day,makes inquisition at the monastery of Bayfleet, in Yorkshire, someeighty miles away, of which my cousin, Alfred Stukley, whose letterreached me this morning, is the Prior. Emlyn, I'll go to this roughman--for rough he is, they say. Old and feeble as I am, I'll seekhim out and offer up the ancient House I rule to save your life andCicely's--yes, and Bridget's also."
"You will go, Mother! Oh! God's blessing be on you. But how will you go?They will never suffer it."
The old nun drew herself up, and answered--
"Who has the right to say to the Prioress of Blossholme that she shallnot travel whither she will? No Spanish Abbot, I think. Why, but nowthat proud priest's servants would have forbidden me to enter yourchamber in my own House, but I read them a lesson they will not forget.Also I have horses at my command, but it is true I need an escort, whoam not too strong and little versed in the ways of the outside world,where I have scarcely strayed for many years. Now I have bethought meof that red-haired lay-brother, Thomas Bolle. I am told that thoughfoolish, he is a valiant man whom few care to face; moreover, that heunderstands horses and knows all roads. Do you think, Emlyn Stower, thatThomas Bolle will be my companion on this journey, with leave from theAbbot, or without it?" and again she looked her in the eyes.
"He might, he might; he is a venturous man, or so I remember him inmy youth," answered Emlyn. "Moreover, his forefathers have servedthe Harfletes and the Foterells for generations in peace and war, anddoubtless, therefore, he loves my lady yonder. But the trouble is to getat him."
"No trouble at all, Emlyn; he is one of the watch outside the gate. But,woman, what token?"
Emlyn thought for a moment, then drew a ring off her finger in which wasset a cornelian heart.
"Give him this," she said, "and say that the wearer bade him follow thebearer to the death, for the sake of that wearer's life and another's.He is a simple soul, and if the Abbot does not catch him first I believethat he will go."
Mother Matilda took the ring and set it on her own finger. Then shewalked to where Cicely lay sleeping, looked at her and the boy upon herbreast. Stretching out her thin hands, she called down the blessing andprotection of Almighty God upon them both, then turned to depart.
Emlyn caught her by the robe.
"Stay," she said. "You think I do not understand; but I do. You aregiving up everything for us. Even if you live through it, this House,which has been your charge for many years, will be dissolved; your sheepwill be scattered to starve in their toothless age; the fold that hassheltered them for four hundred years will become a home of wolves. Iunderstand full well, and she"--pointing to the sleeping Cicely--"willunderstand also."
"Say nothing to her," murmured Mother Matilda; "I may fail."
"You may fail, or you may succeed. If you fail and we burn, God shallreward you. If you succeed and we are saved, on her behalf I swear thatyou shall not suffer. There is wealth hidden away--wealth worthmany priories; you and yours shall have your share of it, and thatCommissioner shall not go lacking. Tell him that there is some smallstore to pay him for his trouble, and that the Abbot of Blossholme wouldrob him of it. Now, my Lady Margaret--for that, I think, used to be yourname, and will be again when you have done with priests and nuns--blessme also and begone, and know that, living or dead, I hold you great andholy."
So the Prioress blessed her ere she glided thence in her statelyfashion, and the oaken door opened and shut behind her.
The Lady of Blossholme Page 22