The Lady of Blossholme

by H. Rider Haggard

  CHAPTER XV

  THE DEVIL AT COURT

  It was half-past two of the clock when Cicely, who carried her boy inher arms, accompanied by Emlyn, Thomas Bolle and Jacob Smith, foundherself in the great courtyard of the Palace of Whitehall. The place wasfull of people waiting there upon one business or another, through whommessengers and armed men thrust their way continually, crying, "Way!In the King's name, way!" So great was the press, indeed, that for sometime even Jacob could command no attention, till at length he caughtsight of the herald who had visited his house in the morning, andbeckoned to him.

  "I was looking for you, Master Smith, and for the Lady Harflete," theman said, bowing to her. "You have an appointment with his Grace, haveyou not? but God knows if it can be kept. The ante-chambers are full offolk bringing news about the rebellion in the north, and of great lordsand councillors who wait for commands or money, most of them for money.In short the King has given order that all appointments are cancelled;he can see no one to-day. The Lord Cromwell told me so himself."

  Jacob took a golden angel from his pouch and began to play with itbetween his fingers.

  "I understand, noble herald," he said. "Still, do you think that youcould find me a messenger to the Lord Cromwell? If so, this trifle----"

  "I'll try, Master Smith," he answered, stretching out his hand for thepiece of money. "But what is the message?"

  "Oh, say that Pink Pearl would learn from his Lordship where he can layhands upon L1000 without interest."

  "A strange message, to which I will hazard an answer--nowhere," said theherald, "yet I'll find some one to deliver it. Step within this archwayand wait out of the rain. Fear not, I will be back presently."

  They did as he bid them, gladly enough, for it had begun to drizzle andCicely was afraid lest her boy, with whom London did not agree too well,should take cold. Here, then, they stood amusing themselves in watchingthe motley throng that came and went. Bolle, to whom the scene wasstrange, gaped at them with his mouth open; Emlyn took note of every onewith her quick eyes, while old Jacob Smith whispered tales concerningindividuals as they passed, most of which were little to their credit.

  As for Cicely, soon her thoughts were far away. She knew that she was ata crisis of her fortune; that if things went well with her this day shemight look to be avenged upon her enemies, and to spend the rest ofher life in wealth and honour. But it was not of such matters thatshe dreamed, whose heart was set on Christopher, without whom naughtavailed. Where was he, she wondered. If Jacob's tale were true, afterpassing many dangers, but a little while ago he lived and had hishealth. Yet in those times death came quickly, leaping like thelightning from unexpected clouds or even out of a clear sky, and whocould say? Besides, he believed her gone, and that being so would becareless of himself, or perchance, worst thought of all, would take someother wife, as was but right and natural. Oh! then indeed----

  At this moment a sound of altercation woke her to the world again, andshe looked up to see that Thomas Bolle was bringing trouble on them.A coarse fat lout with a fiery and a knotted nose, being somewhat inliquor, had amused himself by making mock of his country looks and redhair, and asking whether they used him for a scarecrow in his nativefields.

  Thomas bore it for a while, only answering with another question:whether he, the fat fellow, hired out his nose to London housewives tolight their fires. The man, feeling that the laugh was against him,and noticing the child in Cicely's arms pointed it out to his friends,inquiring whether they did not think it was exactly like its dad. ThenThomas's rage burnt up, although the jest was silly and aimless enough.

  "You low, London gutter-hound!" he exclaimed; "I'll learn you to insultthe Lady Harflete with your ribald japes," and stretching out his bigfist he seized his enemy's purple nose in a grip of iron and began totwist it till the sot roared with pain. Thereon guards ran up and wouldhave arrested Bolle for breaking the peace in the King's palace. Indeed,arrested he must have been, notwithstanding all Jacob Smith could doto save him, had not at that moment a man appeared at whose coming thecrowd that had gathered, separated, bowing; a man of middle age with aquick, clever face, who wore rich clothes and a fur-trimmed velvet capand gown.

  Cicely knew him at once for Cromwell, the greatest man in England afterthe King, and marked him well, knowing that he held her fate and thatof her child in the hollow of his hand. She noted the thin-lipped mouth,small as a woman's, the sharp nose, the little brownish eyes set closetogether and surrounded by wrinkled skin that gave them a cunning look,and noting was afraid. Before her stood a man who, though at present heseemed to be her friend, if he chanced to become her enemy, as once hehad been bribed to be her father's, would show her no more pity than thespider shows a fly.

  Indeed she was right, for many were the flies that had been snared andsucked in the web of Cromwell, who, in his full tide of power and pomp,forgot the fate of his master, Wolsey, in his day a greater spiderstill.

  "What passes here?" Cromwell said in a sharp voice. "Men, is this theplace to brawl beneath his Grace's very windows? Ah! Master Smith, is ityou? Explain."

  "My Lord," answered Jacob, bowing, "this is Lady Harflete's servantand he is not to blame. That fat knave insulted her and, beingquick-tempered, her man, Bolle, wrang his nose."

  "I see that he wrang it. Look, he is wringing it still. Friend Bolle,leave go, or presently you will have in your hand that which is of novalue to you. Guard, take this beer-tub and hold his head beneath thepump for five minutes by the clock to wash him, and if he comes backagain set him in the stocks. Nay, no words, fellow, you are well served.Master Smith, follow me with your party."

  Again the crowd parted as they walked after Cromwell to a side door thatwas near at hand, to find themselves alone with him in a small chamber.Here he stopped and, turning, surveyed them all narrowly, especiallyCicely.

  "I suppose, Master Smith," he said, pointing to Bolle, who was wipinghis hands clean with the rushes from the floor, "this is the man thatyou told me played the devil yonder at Blossholme. Well, he can playthe fool also. In another minute there would have been a tumult and youwould have lost your chance of seeing his Grace, for months perhaps,since he has determined to ride from London to-morrow morningnorthwards, though it is true he may change his mind ere then. Thisrebellion troubles him much, and were it not for the loan you promise,when loans are needed, small hope would you have had of audience. Nowcome quickly and be careful that you do not cross the King's temper, forit is tetchy to-day. Indeed, had it not been for the Queen, who is withhim and minded to see this Lady Harflete, that they would have burnt asa witch, you must have waited till a more convenient season which maynever come. Stay, what is in that great sack you carry, Bolle?"

  "The devil's livery, may it please your Lordship."

  "The devil's livery, many wear that in London. Still, bring the gear, itmay make his Grace laugh, and if so I'll give you a gold piece, who havehad enough of oaths and scoldings, aye," he added, with a sour grin,"and of blows too. Now follow me into the Presence, and speak only whenyou are spoken to, nor dare to answer if he rates you."

  They went from the room down a passage and through another door, wherethe guards on duty looked suspiciously at Bolle and his sack, but at aword from Cromwell let them through into a large room in which afire burned upon the hearth. At the end of this room stood a huge,proud-looking man with a flat and cruel face, broad as an ox's skull, asThomas Bolle said afterwards, who was dressed in some rich, sombre stuffand wore a velvet cap upon his head. He held a parchment in his hand,and before him on the other side of an oak table sat an officer of statein a black robe, who wrote upon another parchment, whereof there weremany scattered about on the table and the floor.

  "Knave," shouted the King, for they guessed that it was he, "you havecast up these figures wrong. Oh, that it should be my lot to be servedby none but fools!"

  "Pardon, your Grace," said the secretary in a trembling voice, "thricehave I checked them."

  "Would you gainsay me, y
ou lying lawyer," bellowed the King again. "Itell you they must be wrong, since otherwise the sum is short by L1100of that which I was promised. Where are the L1100? You must have stolenthem, thief."

  "I steal, oh, your Grace, I steal!"

  "Aye, why not, since your betters do. Only you are clumsy, you lackskill. Ask my Lord Cromwell there to give you lessons. He learned underthe best of masters, and is a merchant by trade to boot. Oh, get yougone and take your scribblings with you."

  The poor officer hastened to avail himself of this invitation. Hurriedlycollecting his parchments he bowed himself from the presence of hisirate Sovereign. At the door, about twelve feet away, however, heturned.

  "My gracious Liege," he began, "the casting of the count is right. Uponmy honour as a Christian soul I can look your Majesty in the face withtruth in my eye----"

  Now on the table there was a massive inkstand made from the horn of aram mounted with silver feet. This Henry seized and hurled with allhis strength. The aim was good, for the heavy horn struck the wretchedscribe upon the nose so that the ink squirted all over his face, andfelled him to the floor.

  "Now there is more in your eye than truth," shouted the King. "Be off,ere the stool follows the inkpot."

  Two ladies who stood by the fire talking together and taking no heed,for to such rude scenes they seemed to be accustomed, looked up andlaughed a little, then went on talking, while Cromwell smiled andshrugged his shoulders. Then in the midst of the silence which followedThomas Bolle, who had been watching open-mouthed, ejaculated in hisgreat voice--

  "A bull's eye! A noble bull! Myself cannot throw straighter."

  "Silence, fool," hissed Emlyn.

  "Who spoke?" asked the king, looking towards them sharply.

  "Please, my Liege, it was I, Thomas Bolle."

  "Thomas Bolle! Can you sling a stone, Thomas Bolle, whoever you may be?"

  "Aye, Sire, but not better than you, I think. That was a gallant shot."

  "Thomas Bolle, you are right. Seeing the hurry and the unhandiness ofthe missile, it was excellent. Let the knave stand up again and I'll betyou a gold noble to a brass nail that you'll not do as well within aninch. Why, the fellow's gone! Will you try on my Lord Cromwell? Nay,this is no time for fooling. What's your business, Thomas Bolle, and whoare those women with you?"

  Now Cromwell stepped forward, and with cringing gestures began toexplain something to the King in a low voice. Meanwhile, the two ladiesbecame suddenly interested in Cicely, and one of them, a pale but prettywoman, splendidly dressed, stepped forward to her, saying--

  "Are you the Lady Harflete of whom we have heard, she who was to havebeen burnt as a witch? Yes? And is that your child? Oh! what a beautifulchild. A boy, I'll swear. Come to me, sweet, and in after years you cantell that a queen has nursed you," and she stretched out her arms.

  As good fortune would have it the child was awake, and attracted by theQueen's pleasant voice, or perhaps by the necklace of bright gemsthat she wore, he held out his little hands towards her and went quitecontentedly to her breast. Jane Seymour, for it was she, began to fondlehim with delight, then, followed by her lady, ran to the King, saying--

  "See, Harry, see what a beautiful boy, and how he loves me. God send ussuch a son as this!"

  The King glanced at the child, then answered--

  "Aye, he would do well enow. Well, it rests with you, Jane. Nurse him,nurse him, perhaps the sex is catching. I and all England would see youbrought to bed of that sickness, Sweet. What said you, Cromwell?"

  The great minister went on with his explanations, till the King,wearying of him, called out--

  "Come here, Master Smith."

  Jacob advanced, bowing, and stood still.

  "Now, Master Smith, the Lord Cromwell tells me that if I sign thesepapers, you, on behalf of the Lady Harflete, will loan me L1000 withoutinterest, which as it chances I need. Where, then, is this L1000?--forI will have no promises, not even from you, who are known to keep them,Master Smith."

  Jacob thrust his hand beneath his robe, and from various inner pocketsdrew out bags of gold, which he set in a row upon the table.

  "Here they are, your Grace," he said quietly. "If you should wish forthem they can be weighed and counted."

  "God's truth! I think I had better keep them, lest some accident shouldhappen to you on the way home, Master Smith. You might fall into theThames and sink."

  "Your Grace is right, the parchments will be lighter to carry, even," headded meaningly, "with your Highness's name added."

  "I can't sign," said the King doubtfully, "all the ink is spilt."

  Jacob produced a small ink-horn, which like most merchants of the day hecarried hung to his girdle, drew out the stopper and with a bow set iton the table.

  "In truth you are a good man of business, Master Smith, too good fora mere king. Such readiness makes me pause. Perhaps we had better meetagain at a more leisured season."

  Jacob bowed once more, and stretching out his hand slowly lifted thefirst of the bags of gold as though to replace it in his pocket.

  "Cromwell, come hither," said the King, whereon Jacob, as though inforgetfulness, laid the bag back upon the table.

  "Repeat the heads of this matter, Cromwell."

  "My Liege, the Lady Harflete seeks justice on the Spaniard Maldon,Abbot of Blossholme, who is said to have murdered her father, Sir JohnFoterell, and her husband, Sir Christopher Harflete, though rumour hasit that the latter escaped his clutches and is now in Spain. Item:the said Abbot has seized the lands which this Dame Cicely should haveinherited from her father, and demands their restitution."

  "By God's wounds! justice she shall have and for nothing if we can giveit her," answered the King, letting his heavy fist fall upon the table."No need to waste time in setting out her wrongs. Why, 'tis the sameSpanish knave Maldon who stirs up all this hell's broth in the north.Well, he shall boil in his own pot, for against him our score is long.What more?"

  "A declaration, Sire, of the validity of the marriage betweenChristopher Harflete and Cicely Foterell, which without doubt is goodand lawful although the Abbot disputes it for his own ends; and anindemnity for the deaths of certain men who fell when the said Abbotattacked and burnt the house of the said Christopher Harflete."

  "It should have been granted the more readily if Maldon had fallen also,but let that pass. What more?"

  "The promise, your Grace, of the lands of the Abbey of Blossholme and ofthe Priory of Blossholme in consideration of the loan of L1000 advancedto your Grace by the agent of Cicely Harflete, Jacob Smith."

  "A large demand, my Lord. Have these lands been valued?"

  "Aye, Sire, by your Commissioner, who reports it doubtful if with alltheir tenements and timber they would fetch L1000 in gold."

  "Our Commissioner? A fig for his valuing, doubtless he has been bribed.Still, if we repay the money we can hold the land, and since this DameHarflete and her husband have suffered sorely at the hands of Maldon andhis armed ruffians, why, let it pass also. Now, is that all? I weary ofso much talk."

  "But one thing more, your Grace," put in Cromwell hastily, for Henry wasalready rising from his chair. "Dame Cicely Harflete, her servant, EmlynStower, and a certain crazed old nun were condemned of sorcery by aCourt Ecclesiastic whereof the Abbot Maldon was a member, the said Abbotalleging that they had bewitched him and his goods."

  "Then he was pleader and judge in one?"

  "That is so, your Grace. Already without the royal warrant they werebound to the stake for burning, the said Maldon having usurped theprerogative of the Crown, when your Commissioner, Legh, arrived andloosed them, but not without fighting, for certain men were killed andwounded. Now they humbly crave your Majesty's royal pardon for theirshare in this man-slaying, if any, as also does Thomas Bolle yonder, whoseems to have done the slaying----"

  "Well can I believe it," muttered the King.

  "And a declaration of the invalidity of their trial and condemning, andof their innocence of the foul charge laid agai
nst them."

  "Innocence!" exclaimed Henry, growing impatient and fixing on the lastpoint. "How do we know they were innocent, though it is true that ifDame Harflete is a witch she is the prettiest that ever we have heard ofor seen. You ask too much, after your fashion, Cromwell."

  "I crave your Grace's patience for one short minute. There is a man herewho can prove that they were innocent; yonder red-haired Bolle."

  "What? He who praised our shooting? Well, Bolle, since you are so good asportsman, we will listen to you. Prove and be brief."

  "Now all is finished," murmured Emlyn to Cicely, "for assuredly foolThomas will land us in the mire."

  "Your Grace," said Bolle in his big voice, "I obey in four words--I wasthe devil."

  "The devil you were, Thomas Bolle. Now, your meaning?"

  "Your Grace, Blossholme was haunted, I haunted it."

  "How could you do otherwise if you lived there?"

  "I'll show your Grace," and without more ado, to the horror of Cicely,Thomas tumbled from his sack all his hellish garb and set to work toclothe himself. In a minute, for he was practised at the game, thehideous mask was on his head, and with it the horns and skin of thewidow's billy-goat; the tail and painted hides were tied about him, andin his hand he waved the eel spear, short-handled now. Thus arrayed hecapered before the astonished King and Queen, shaking the tail that hada wire in it and clattering his hoofs upon the floor.

  "Oh, good devil! Most excellent devil!" exclaimed his Majesty, clappinghis hands. "If I had met thee I'd have run like a hare. Stay, Jane, peepyou through yonder door and tell me who are gathered there."

  The Queen obeyed and, returned, said--

  "There be a bishop and a priest, I cannot see which, for it grows dark,with chaplains and sundry of the lords of Council waiting audience."

  "Good. Then we'll try the devil on these devil-tamers. Friend Satan,go you to that door, slip through it softly and rush upon them roaring,driving them through this chamber so that we may see which of them willbe bold enough to try to lay you. Dost understand, Beelzebub?"

  Thomas nodded his horns and departed silently as a cat.

  "Now open the door and stand on one side," said the King.

  Cromwell obeyed, nor had they long to wait. Presently from the hallbeyond there rose a most fearful clamour. Then through the door shot thebishop panting, after him came lords, chaplains, and secretaries, andlast of all the priest, who, being very fat and hampered by his gown,could not run so fast, although at his back Satan leapt and bellowed.No heed did they take of the King's Majesty or of aught else, whose onlythought was flight as they tore down the chamber to the farther door.

  "Oh, noble, noble!" hallooed the King, who was shaking with laughter."Give him your fork, devil, give him your fork," and having the royalcommand Bolle obeyed with zeal.

  In thirty seconds it was all over; the rout had come and gone,only Thomas in his hideous attire stood bowing before the King, whoexclaimed--

  "I thank thee, Thomas Bolle, thou hast made me laugh as I have notlaughed for years. Little wonder that thy mistress was condemned forwitchcraft. Now," he added, changing his tone, "off with that mummery,and, Cromwell, go, catch one of those fools and tell them the truth eretales fly round the palace. Jane, cease from merriment, there is a timefor all things. Come hither, Lady Harflete, I would speak with you."

  Cicely approached and curtseyed, leaving her boy in the Queen's arms,where he had gone to sleep, for she did not seem minded to part withhim.

  "You are asking much of us," he said suddenly, searching her with ashrewd glance, "relying, doubtless, on your wrongs, which are deep, oryour face, which is sweet, or both. Well, these things move Kings mayhapmore than others, also I knew old Sir John, your father, a loyal man anda brave, he fought well at Flodden; and young Harflete, your husband, ifhe still lives, had a good name like his forebears. Moreover your enemy,Maldon, is ours, a treacherous foreign snake such as England hates, forhe would set her beneath the heel of Spain.

  "Now, Dame Harflete, doubtless when you go hence you will bear awaystrange stories of King Harry and his doings. You will say he plays thefool, pelting his servants with inkpots when he is wrath, as God knowshe has often cause to be, and scaring his bishops with sham Satans, asafter all why should he not since it is a dull world? You'll say, too,that he takes his teaching from his ministers, and signs what these laybefore him with small search as to the truth or falsity. Well, that'sthe lot of monarchs who have but one man's brain and one man's time;who needs must trust their slaves until these become their masters, andthere is naught left," here his face grew fierce, "save to kill them,and find more and worse. New servants, new wives," and he glanced atJane, who was not listening, "new friends, false, false, all three ofthem, new foes, and at the last old Death to round it off. Such has beenthe lot of kings from David down, and such I think it shall always be."

  He paused a while, brooding heavily, then looked up and went on, "I knownot why I should speak thus to a chit like you, except it be, thatyoung though you are, you also have known trouble and the feel of a sickheart. Well, well, I have heard more of you and your affairs than youmight think, and I forget nothing--that's my gift. Dame Harflete, youare richer than you have been advised to say, and I repeat you ask muchof me. Justice is your due from your Sovereign, and you shall have it;but these wide Abbey lands, this Priory of Blossholme, whose nuns havebefriended you and whom you desire to save, this embracing pardon forothers who had shed blood, this cancelling outside of the form of law ofa sentence passed by a Court duly constituted, if unjust, all in returnfor a loan of a pitiful L1000? You huckster well, Lady Harflete,one would think that your father had been a chapman, not rough JohnFoterell, you who can drive so shrewd a bargain with your King'snecessities."

  "Sire, Sire," broke in Cicely in confusion, "I have no more, my landsare wasted by Abbot Maldon, my husband's hall is burnt by his soldiers,my first year's rents, if ever I should receive them, are promised----"

  "To whom?"

  She hesitated.

  "To whom?" he thundered. "Answer, Madam."

  "To your Royal Commissioner, Dr. Legh."

  "Ah! I thought as much, though when he spoke of you he did not tell it,the snuffling rogue."

  "The jewels that came to me from my mother are in pawn for that L1000,and I have no more."

  "A palpable lie, Dame Harflete, for if so, how have you paid Cromwell?He did not bring you here for nothing."

  "Oh, my Liege, my Liege," said Cicely, sinking to her knees, "ask not ahelpless woman to betray those who have befriended her in her most soreand honest need. I said I have nothing, unless those gems are worth morethan I know."

  "And I believe you, Dame Harflete. We have plucked you bare between us,have we not? Still, perchance, you will be no loser in the end. Now,Master Smith, there, does not work for love alone."

  "Sire," said Jacob, "that is true, I copy my masters. I have this lady'sjewels in pledge, and I hope to make a profit on them. Still, Sire,there is among them a pink pearl of great beauty that it might pleasethe Queen to wear. Here it is," and he laid it upon the table.

  "Oh, what a lovely thing," said Jane; "never have I seen its like."

  "Then study it well, Wife, for you look your last upon it. When wecannot pay our soldiers to keep our crown upon our head, and preservethe liberties of England against the Spaniard and the Pope of Rome, itis no time to give you gems that I have not bought. Take that gaud andsell it, Master Smith, for whatever it will fetch among the Jews, andadd the price to the L1000, lessened by one tenth for your trouble. Now,Dame Harflete, you have bought the favour of your King, for whoeverelse may, I'll not lie. Ah! here comes Cromwell. My Lord, you have beenlong."

  "Your Grace, yonder priest is in a fit from fright, and thinks himselfin hell. I had to tarry with him till the doctor came."

  "Doubtless he'll get better now that you are gone. Poor man, if a shamdevil frights him so, what will he do at last? Now, Cromwell, I havemade examination of this business and
I will sign your papers, all ofthem. Dame Harflete here tells me how hard you have worked for her, allfor nothing, Cromwell, and that pleases me, who at times have wonderedhow you grew so rich, as your learner, Wolsey, did before you. _He_ tookbribes, Cromwell!"

  "My Liege," he answered in a low voice, "this case was cruel, it movedmy pity----"

  "As it has ours, leaving us the richer by L1000 and the price of apearl. There, five, are they all signed? Take them, Master Smith, as theLady Harflete is your client, and study them to-night. If aught be wrongor omitted, you have our royal word that we will set it straight. Thisis our command--note it, Cromwell--that all things be done quicklyas occasion shall arise to give effect to these precepts, pardons andpatents which you, Cromwell, shall countersign ere they leave this room.Also, that no further fee, secret or declared, shall be taken fromthe Lady Harflete, whom henceforth, in token of our special favour, wecreate and name the Lady of Blossholme, from her husband or her child,as to any of these matters, and that Commissioner Legh, on receiptthereof, shall pay into our treasury any sum or sums that Dame Harfletemay have promised to him. Write it down, my Lord Cromwell, and see thatour words are carried out, lest it be the worse for you."

  The Vicar-General hastened to obey, for there was something in theKing's eye that frightened him. Meanwhile the Queen, after she had seenthe coveted pearl disappear into Jacob's pocket, thrust back the childinto Cicely's arms, and without any word of adieu or reverence to theKing, followed by her lady, departed from the room, slamming the doorbehind her.

  "Her Grace is cross because that gem--your gem, Lady Harflete--wasrefused to her," said Henry, then added in an angry growl, "'Fore God!does she dare to play off her tempers upon me, and so soon, when I amtroubled about big matters? Oho! Jane Seymour is the Queen to-day, andshe'd let the world know it. Well, what makes a queen? A king's fancyand a crown of gold, which the hand that set it on can take off again,head and all, if it stick too tight. And then where's your queen? Pestupon women and the whims that make us seek their company! Dame Harflete,you'd not treat your lord so, would you? You have never been to Court, Ithink, or I should have known your eyes again. Well, perhaps it is wellfor you, and that's why you are gentle and loving."

  "If I am gentle, Sire, it is trouble that has gentled me, who havesuffered so much, and know not even now whether after one week ofmarriage I am wife or widow."

  "Widow? Should that be so, come to me and I will find you another and anobler spouse. With your face and possessions it will not be difficult.Nay, do not weep, for your sake I trust that this lucky man may live tocomfort you and serve his King. At least he'll be no Spaniard's tool andPope's plotter."

  "Well will he serve your Grace if God gives him the chance, as mymurdered father did."

  "We know it, Lady. Cromwell, will you never have finished with thosewritings? The Council waits us, and so does supper, and a word or twowith her Grace ere bedtime. You, Thomas Bolle, you are no fool and canhold a sword; tell me, shall I go up north to fight the rebels, or bidehere and let others do it?"

  "Bide here, your Grace," answered Thomas promptly. "'Twixt Wash andHumber is a wild land in winter and arrows fly about there like ducks atnight, none knowing whence they come. Also your Grace is over-heavy fora horse on forest roads and moorland, and if aught should chance, why,they'd laugh in Spain and Rome, or nearer, and who would rule Englandwith a girl child on its throne?" and he stared hard at Cromwell's back.

  "Truth at last, and out of the lips of a red-haired bumpkin," mutteredthe King, also staring at the unconscious Cromwell, who was engaged onhis writing and either feigned deafness or did not hear. "Thomas Bolle,I said that you were no fool, although some may have thought you so, isthere aught you would have in payment for your counsel--save money, forthat we have none?"

  "Aye, Sire, freedom from my oath as a lay-brother of the Abbey ofBlossholme, and leave to marry."

  "To marry whom?"

  "Her, Sire," and he pointed to Emlyn.

  "What! The other handsome witch? See you not that she has a temper? Nay,woman, be silent, it is written in your face. Well, take your freedomand her with it, but, Thomas Bolle, why did you not ask otherwise whenthe chance came your way? I thought better of you. Like the rest of us,you are but a fool after all. Farewell to you, Fool Thomas, and to youalso, my fair Lady of Blossholme."