The Miracle at St. Bruno's

by Philippa Carr

  Honey smiled at her husband over her needle; she was always tender and gentle with him; he, of course, adored her. She looked beautiful with her needle poised thus and a quiet, dreamy look of contentment on her face.

  “Let him serve in the stables then,” said Honey. “And if something other should arise he will be there to take it.”

  “A pleasant young man,” said Edward. “Of some education, I believe.”

  “He speaks with a strange accent,” I added.

  “That is because he comes from the North. Their speech is oft so different from our own that it can be difficult to understand it.”

  “One can understand Richard well enough.”

  “Oh, yes, but he is a young man not without education … not the sort who normally come knocking at the doors begging for work.”

  “He is reticent, Jennet tells me. She has lost no time in making his acquaintance.”

  Edward cleared his throat and said, “Thomas Elders will be visiting us at the end of the week.”

  Honey paused slightly, her needle poised. I knew that remark had made her a little uneasy.

  I wanted to tell them both that they had nothing to fear from me. I would not betray what I knew, which was that Thomas Elders was a priest who traveled from one Catholic household to another, that he came as a guest who was said to be an old friend of some member of the household; and that during his stay in the house he heard confession and celebrated Mass; and at the same time ran the risk of incurring the Queen’s displeasure for himself and for the members of that household he visited.

  He had been once before. I had thought little of his coming then although I had quickly assessed the purpose of it.

  Everyone was expecting a more tolerant attitude toward religion with the new reign and indeed it could not be more severe than the last, but that extreme tolerance had not yet come; the Queen had her reasons and so did her ministers. It was, to say the least, unwise to entertain priests in the household.

  When I remembered the fierce attitude of the Pennlyons I was apprehensive.

  I changed the subject by talking of the newcomer Richard Rackell.

  “He has gracious manners indeed,” I said. “I knew someone from the North once who came to visit my father. He did not speak or act as this young man does.”

  “People are never cut to a pattern,” said Honey comfortably.

  Then she began to talk about their neighbors and, fearing that this might lead to the Pennlyons, I rose and left them together.

  Every day Jake Pennlyon called. There was nothing subtle about him; he clearly came to see me.

  He noticed Richard Rackell on one occasion; he said: “I’ve seen that fellow before. I remember. He came to Lyon Court looking for work.”

  “And you had none for him.”

  “I don’t like the look of the fellow. More like a girl than a boy.”

  “Do you expect everyone to roar like a lion?”

  “I reserve that privilege for myself.”

  “Or,” I added, “bray like an ass.”

  “Which I leave to others, but I would look for neither a lion nor an ass in a servant. Some tale he had about coming from the North.”

  “Why should it be a tale? Edward believed him.”

  “Edward would believe anything. He has a mistaken idea that everyone else follows his fine mode of behavior.”

  “Perhaps it is more pleasant to believe the best than the worst of people before anything is proved against them.”

  “Nonsense. It is better to be prepared for the worst.”

  “As usual, I disagree with you.”

  “Which delights me. I dread the day when we are in complete agreement.”

  There was no doubt that he enjoyed our verbal battles. To my amazement, so did I.

  When he was late calling one day I found myself at the window watching for him, hoping, I kept assuring myself, that he would not come; but I couldn’t help the twinge of excitement I felt when I saw his white horse in the stableyard and heard his loud voice shouting to the grooms.

  We visited Lyon Court—that mansion which had been built by Sir Penn’s father. On either side of the porch were lions with ferocious expressions; and a lion’s face was molded over the porch. It was a younger house than Trewynd and its Gothic hall extended to the full height of the house; Lyon Court had its central block built around a courtyard and east and west wings; in these wings were the bedchambers and the living quarters. In the center block were the hall and the grand staircase leading to the gallery. It was impressive and rather ostentatious, what one would expect, I told myself, of such a family. The Pennlyons had not always been in possession of wealth and, therefore, that possession seemed something to boast of. It had been in Edward’s family for years and he had been brought up to accept it as a natural right.

  Still, I could not help being caught up in the enthusiasm of both Sir Penn and Jake Pennlyon for their magnificent house. In the Long Gallery there was a portrait of the founder of their fortunes, Sir Penn’s father, who sat uneasily in his fine robes, and of Sir Penn, very sure of himself; his wife, a rather fragile-looking lady with a bewildered expression; and Jake Pennlyon, jaunty, arrogant, his brilliant blue eyes the most startling feature on the canvas as they were in the flesh.

  The gardens were very fine. Sir Penn had numerable gardeners who were kept busy making his land the most outstanding in the neighborhood; the graveled paths were symmetrical; the flower beds immaculate, although less colorful than they would be in the heart of summer. There were still roses in the rose garden, though; and there was a herb garden which particularly interested Honey; I told Sir Penn that my grandmother was something of an authority on plants and herbs.

  “There was a witch in the village,” I told him. “My grandmother befriended her and before she died she gave her several recipes.”

  “Witches!” spat out Sir Penn. “I’d hang the Devil’s spawn.”

  “Well, this was a good witch, I believe. She cured people.”

  “My dear young lady, there be no such thing as a good witch. She’s damned and her purpose is to carry others to damnation. Any witch hereabouts and she’ll be strung up by her skinny neck, I promise you.”

  “I’d not hold you to the promise,” I said, wondering why I found it impossible not to spar with these Pennlyons.

  “Now don’t you start praising witches, me dear. There’s many a woman come to grief through taking sides.”

  “The only safe way I see is to take the right side, which of course is yours,” I said.

  But irony was lost on Sir Penn.

  We were shown the statues which had been erected, the sundials and the fountains, the yew trees cut into fantastic shapes. Sir Penn was very proud of his garden.

  It was during this visit that Jake invited us all on board the Rampant Lion. I wanted to refuse to go, but that was impossible when Honey and Edward accepted the invitation.

  A few days after that visit I went for my afternoon ride and when I came back Jennet was waiting for me in the stables.

  “Oh, Mistress Catharine,” she said. “Something terrible have happened. The mistress has taken a fall; she hurt her foot and wants you to go to her right away. I’m to bring you to her.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She’s on board the Rampant Lion.”

  “Of course she is not.”

  “But, Mistress, she is. She went for a visit.”

  “And the master?”

  “He couldn’t go like. He said, ‘You go alone, my dear,’ and the mistress went.”

  “Alone on the Rampant Lion!”

  “Well, the Captain had asked them and was expecting them. It was all sudden like.”

  “But I was to go too.”

  “Well, they did say they’d go without you, Mistress. And so … the master he were called away and the mistress went.”

  I felt angry suddenly. What was Honey thinking of, to go alone to a ship where such a man was in command?


  “Then she tripped and hurt her leg and the Captain’s sent a messenger and I’m to take you out there without delay.”

  I wondered about Honey then. I had never really understood her. I often had a notion that she harbored secrets. Could it possibly be that this swaggering buccaneer of a man had attracted her in some way and had induced her to be unfaithful to Edward?

  It could not be. But if she were alone on his ship, and she had sent for me because she wished me to pretend that I had gone with her…

  That made sense.

  I thought of Edward’s sensitive face and a great desire to protect him from any unpleasant truth swept over me. I said: “I’ll come at once, Jennet.”

  She was very relieved; and we hurried down the drive and almost ran all the way to the Hoe, where a small boat was ready to take us out to the Rampant Lion. We bobbed about on the sea, and looking landward, I could see the turret of Trewynd, where I had often sat to watch the craft on the water.

  Jake Pennlyon was standing on the deck, clearly waiting for us. I clung to the rope ladder and was lifted up in his arms.

  He was laughing. “I knew you’d come,” he said.

  One of his men lifted Jennet on board.

  “You’d better take me to my sister,” I said.

  “Come this way.” He held my arm as though to pilot me across the deck.

  I said to him: “Why did she come here without Edward? I don’t understand it.”

  “She wanted to see my ship.”

  “She should have waited until we all came. We shall have to get her ashore. It won’t be easy if she’s hurt her foot. How bad is it? Oh, dear, I do hope no bones are broken.”

  He led the way up a stairway and threw open a door.

  “My cabin,” he said.

  It was spacious, I suppose, as ship’s cabins go. There was a tapestry on what I was to learn to call the bulkhead. There was a bookcase with books and a shelf with instruments, and on a table a revolving globe on which was depicted the earth’s surface. On the wall was a brass astrolabe, a compass, hourglasses and a long cross staff which I also learned later was an arbalist.

  I noticed these things vaguely while I looked around for Honey. When I saw that she was not there I felt twinges of alarm which were half excited anticipation.

  “Where is my sister?” I demanded.

  He laughed; he had shut the door and was leaning against it.

  “In her garden perhaps. In her stillroom … occupying herself with those tasks which are the joy and duty of every housewife.”

  “In her garden! But I was led to believe…”

  He laughed. “Did I not tell you that you would come aboard my ship within the week?”

  “But I understood my sister was here.”

  “You did not really believe that, did you?”

  “But…”

  “Oh, come, you wanted to accept my invitation, did you not? And I wanted you to. So why should the means of bringing about this happy conclusion worry us?”

  “I am not worried,” I said.

  “You should be if you are really concerned with what you pretend to be.”

  “I think you’ve gone mad.”

  “My sanity is something I shall never allow to desert me.”

  I said: “I wish to go.”

  “But I wish you to stay. I am the Captain of this ship. Here everyone obeys my orders.”

  “Those poor creatures who serve you may. They, poor souls, are at your mercy.”

  “And you think you are not?”

  “I have had enough of this folly.”

  “And I could never have enough.” He came toward me and put his arms about me, pinioning mine so that I was caught in a firm grip.

  “Captain Pennlyon, there is no doubt that you are mad. Do you realize that my family will never forgive this insult?”

  He laughed. I noticed that his eyes were tilted slightly at the corners and that his eyebrows followed the upward tilt; this gave him an expression that was puckish and satanic at the same time. I tried to prize myself free.

  “Let me go,” I cried and tried to kick his shins; but he held me in such a way that it was impossible for me to do so. I thought, he has held many women thus and I pictured his raiding far-off hamlets and villages and the manner in which he and his men would treat the women they captured.

  “You can’t escape,” he mocked, “so it’s no use trying. You are at my mercy.”

  “Well, what do you want of me?”

  “Surely you know that.”

  “If I am right in my assumption…”

  “Which I am sure you are…”

  “I will tell you that I consider your manners gross; I find you boorish, quite unlike—”

  “The fancy gentlemen whom it has been your ill fortune to meet in the past. Well, now, my girl, you have met a man who finds you to his liking and in spite of his lack of manners you find him irresistible.”

  Then he took his arms from about me and caught my head; he pulled it back and his mouth was on mine … warm, revolting, I told myself firmly. I tried to protest, but it was useless. I could not escape from this fierce embrace.

  When he at last released me I was shaking—with fury, I again reminded myself.

  I said: “How dare you behave in such a way … I have never…”

  “Of course you have never been kissed like that before. But don’t fret. It will not be the last time.”

  I was beginning to be alarmed. I was on his ship alone. I had been tricked. There were men on board, but they were his slaves.

  He guessed my thoughts.

  “Exciting, eh? You are at my mercy. You can’t get away unless it is my wish that you should.”

  I could only repeat: “You would not dare to touch me.”

  “Now that I know that your eagerness matches my own … but I, being honest, make no secret of my desires while you, being deceitful, hide yours, feigning reluctance.”

  “I never heard such nonsense! You are a loathsome, ill-mannered pirate and I hate you.”

  “You protest too strongly,” he said.

  “You will be hanged for this. My family…”

  “Oh, yes,” he said, “you are a girl of good family. This is a matter which we have taken into consideration.”

  “Who has taken it into consideration?”

  “My father and I, and for what purpose you must be aware.”

  “I refuse to discuss this unpleasant subject.”

  “It is a fascinating subject. My father said to me: ‘It’s time you married, Jake. We want more Pennlyons. That girl will be a good breeder. Time you took her to bed. But make it legal this time. I want grandchildren.’”

  “I refuse to stay here to be insulted. You must look elsewhere for your good breeder.”

  “Why should I when I’ve found her?”

  “I believe it would be necessary to get her consent.”

  “That will not be impossible.”

  “Are you under the illusion that you are one of the gods come down from Olympus?”

  “That may be an illusion others have about me. I know myself for a man who is clear as to what he wants and gets it.”

  “Not always,” I reminded him. “Not if I am included in those desires.”

  “There are ways. Do you want me to make this plain to you?”

  His face was close to me and I felt my throat constrict. I wished my heart would not beat so loudly. It might betray my fear or whatever it was he aroused in me.

  “You are revolting. If you do not let me go at once I can promise you that my family will bring you to the courts for this.”

  “Oh, that good family,” he said. “Now, my fine lady, there is nothing insulting about an offer of marriage.”

  “There is when it comes from you.”

  “Don’t goad me too far, I have the devil of a temper.”

  “And let me tell you that so have I.”

  “I knew we were well matched. What boys we’ll have. Let’s begin �
�� now. The marriage vows will come after.”

  “I have told you you must look elsewhere for your breeder.”

  “I have found her and I have sworn to God that you will bear my sons.”

  I said: “Stand back and open that door.”

  “On condition.”

  “What condition?”

  “That you give your word to marry me … without delay, and that you’ll be with child before I sail.”

  “And if I won’t?”

  “You give me no alternative.”

  I was silent and with a rough gesture he threw me onto his bunk. I stared at him in horror as he deliberately removed his coat.

  I got to my feet. He was laughing at me. “You should understand, my precious virgin … at least I suppose you are a virgin. You are. I can spot ’em. It is something in the eyes.”

  “You insult me.”

  “In truth I honor you. I choose only those who are worthy of my manhood.”

  I said: “Do you really mean that if I don’t promise to marry you you will force me as though I am some … some…”

  He nodded. “Some wench of no consequence. Though, mind you, there have been fine ladies on occasion. It is no use looking at me with those great disbelieving eyes. You know I am a man of my word. Did I not promise you that I would have you on my ship within the week? Now what’s it to be? I’ve told you already sailors have no time to waste.”

  “Let me out of here. You tricked me. I only came because…”

  “Because you wanted to.”

  “It is the last thing I wanted.”

  “Don’t you believe it. I know you better than you know yourself.”

  “Jennet told me…”

  “Now don’t blame the girl. She knew when she must do as she’s told.”

  “Jennet!” I said. “Did she know that I was being tricked?”

  “Tricked! My dear girl, I was giving you an excuse for coming here. I’m not noted for my patience.”

  “I must get out of here,” I said.

  “That is your answer.” Deliberately he put on his coat.

  He opened the door; he led the way down a flight of stairs. Jennet was waiting there.

  I went to her and said, “You lied, Jennet. You told me Mistress Ennis was here. You knew full well she was not.”