The Lady of Blossholme

by H. Rider Haggard

  When Cromwell had gone Jacob turned to Cicely and inquired if she wereleaving his house upon the morrow.

  "Have I not said so?" she asked, with impatience. "Knowing what I knowhow could I stay in London? Why do you ask?"

  "Because I must balance our account. I think you owe me a matter oftwenty marks for rent and board. Also it is probable that we shall needmoney for our journey, and this day has left me somewhat bare of coin."

  "Our journey?" said Cicely. "Do you, then, accompany us, Master Smith?"

  "With your leave I think so, Lady. Times are bad here, I have noshilling left to lend, yet if I do not lend I shall never be forgiven.Also I need a holiday, and ere I die would once again see Blossholme,where I was born, should we live to reach it. But if we start to-morrowI have much to do this night. For instance, your jewels which I hold inpawn must be set in a place of safety; also these deeds, whereof copiesshould be made, and that pearl must be left in trusty hands for sale. Soat what hour do we ride on this mad errand?"

  "At eleven of the clock," answered Cicely, "if the King's safe-conductand commission have come by then."

  "So be it. Then I bid you good-night. Come with me, worthy Bolle, forthere'll be no sleep for us. I go to call my clerks and you must go tothe stable. Lady Harflete and you, Cousin Emlyn, get you to bed."

  On the following morning Cicely rose with the dawn, nor was she sorry todo so, who had spent but a troubled night. For long sleep would not cometo her, and when it did at length, she was tossed upon a sea ofdreams, dreams of the King, who threatened her with his great voice; ofCromwell, who took everything she had down to her cloak; of CommissionerLegh, who dragged her back to the stake because he had lost his bribe.

  But most of all she dreamed of Christopher, her beloved husband, who wasso near and yet as far away as he had ever been, a prisoner in the handsof the rebels; her husband who deemed her dead.

  From all these phantasies she awoke weeping and oppressed by fears.Could it be that when at length the cup of joy was so near her lips fatewaited to dash it down again? She knew not, who had naught but faith tolean on, that faith which in the past had served her well. Meanwhile,she was sure that if Christopher lived he would make his way to Cranwellor to Blossholme, and, whatever the risk, thither she would go also asfast as horses could carry her.

  Hurry as they would, midday was an hour gone ere they rode out ofCheapside. There was so much to do, and even then things were leftundone. The four of them travelled humbly clad, giving out that theywere a party of merchant folk returning to Cambridge after a visit toLondon as to an inheritance in which they were interested, especiallyCicely, who posed as a widow named Johnson. This was their story, whichthey varied from time to time according to circumstances. In some waystheir minds were more at ease than when they travelled to the greatcity, for now at least they were clear of the horrid company ofCommissioner Legh and his people, nor were they haunted by the knowledgethat they had about them jewels of great price. All these jewels wereleft behind in safe keeping, as were also the writings under the King'shand and seal, of which they only took attested copies, and with themthe commission that Cromwell had duly sent to Cicely addressed to herhusband and herself, and Bolle's certificate of captaincy. These theyhid in their boots or the linings of their vests, together with suchmoney as was necessary for the costs of travel.

  Thus riding hard, for their horses were good and fresh, they cameunmolested to Cambridge on the night of the second day and slept there.Beyond Cambridge, they were told, the country was so disturbed thatit would not be safe for them to journey. But just when they were indespair, for even Bolle said that they must not go on, a troop of theKing's horse arrived on their way to join the Duke of Norfolk whereverhe might lie in Lincolnshire.

  To their captain, one Jeffreys, Jacob showed the King's commission,revealing who they were. Seeing that it commanded all his Grace'sofficers and servants to do them service, this Captain Jeffreys saidthat he would give them escort until their roads separated. So next daythey went on again. The company was not pleasant, for the men, of whomthere were about a hundred, proved rough fellows, still, having beenwarned that he who insulted or laid a finger on them should be hanged,they did them no harm. It was well, indeed, that they had theirprotection, for they found the country through which they passed up inarms, and were more than once threatened by mobs of peasants, led bypriests, who would have attacked them had they dared.

  For two days they travelled thus with Captain Jeffreys, coming on theevening of the second to Peterborough, where they found lodgings at aninn. When they rose the next morning, however, it was to discover thatJeffreys and his men had already gone, leaving a message to say that hehad received urgent orders to push on to Lincoln.

  Now once more they told their old tale, declaring that they werecitizens of Boston, and having learned that the Fens were peaceful,perhaps because so few people lived in them, started forward bythemselves under the guidance of Bolle, who had often journeyed throughthat country, buying or selling cattle for the monks. An ill land wasit to travel in also in that wet autumn, seeing that in many places thefloods were out and the tracks were like a quagmire. The first nightthey spent in a marshman's hut, listening to the pouring rain andfearing fever and ague, especially for the boy. The next day, by goodfortune, they reached higher land and slept at a tavern.

  Here they were visited by rude men, who, being of the party ofrebellion, sought to know their business. For a while things weredangerous, but Bolle, who could talk their own dialect, showed thatthey were scarcely to be feared who travelled with two women and a babe,adding that he was a lay-brother of Blossholme Abbey disguised as aserving-man for dread of the King's party. Jacob Smith also called forale and drank with them to the success of the Pilgrimage of Grace, astheir revolt was named.

  In this way they disarmed suspicion with one tale and another.Moreover, they heard that as yet the country round Blossholme remainedundisturbed, although it was said that the Abbot had fortified the Abbeyand stored it with provisions. He himself was with the leaders of therevolt in the neighbourhood of Lincoln, but he had done this that hemight have a strong place to fall back on.

  So in the end the men went away full of strong beer, and that dangerpassed by.

  Next morning they started forward early, hoping to reach Blossholme bysunset though the days were shortening much. This, however, was notto be, for as it chanced they were badly bogged in a quagmire that layabout two miles off their inn, and when at length they scrambled out hadto ride many miles round to escape the swamp. So it happened that itwas already well on in the afternoon when they came to that stretch offorest in which the Abbot had murdered Sir John Foterell. Following thewoodland road, towards sunset they passed the mere where he had fallen.Weary as she was, Cicely looked at the spot and found it familiar.

  "I know this place," she said. "Where have I seen it? Oh, in the illdream I had on that day I lost my father."

  "That is not wonderful," answered Emlyn, who rode beside her carryingthe child, "seeing that Thomas says it was just here they butchered him.Look, yonder lie the bones of Meg, his mare; I know them by her blackmane."

  "Aye, Lady," broke in Bolle, "and there he lies also where he fell; theyburied him with never a Christian prayer," and he pointed to a littlecareless mound between two willows.

  "Jesus, have mercy on his soul!" said Cicely, crossing herself. "Now, ifI live, I swear that I will move his bones to the chancel of Blossholmechurch and build a fair monument to his memory."

  This, as all visitors to the place know, she did, for that monumentremains to this day, representing the old knight lying in the snow, withthe arrow in his throat, between the two murderers whom he slew, whileround the corner of the tomb Jeffrey Stokes gallops away.

  While Cicely stared back at this desolate grave, muttering a prayer forthe departed, Thomas Bolle heard something which caused him to prick hisears.

  "What is it?" asked Jacob Smith, who saw the change in his face.

  "
Horses galloping--many horses, master," he answered; "yes, and riderson them. Listen."

  They did so, and now they also heard the thud of horse's hoofs and theshouts of men.

  "Quick, quick," said Bolle, "follow me. I know where we may hide," andhe led them off to a dense thicket of thorn and beech scrub which grewabout two hundred yards away under a group of oaks at a place where fourtracks crossed. Owing to the beech leaves, which, when the trees areyoung, as every gardener knows, cling to the twigs through autumn andwinter, this place was very close, and hid them completely.

  Scarcely had they taken up their stand there, when, in the red lightof the sunset, they saw a strange sight. Along, not that road they hadfollowed, but another, which led round the farther side of King's GraveMount, now seen and now hidden by the forest trees, a tall man in armourmounted on a grey horse, accompanied by another man in a leathern jerkinmounted on a black horse, galloped towards them, whilst, at a distanceof not more than a hundred yards behind them, appeared a motley mob ofpursuers.

  "Escaped prisoners being run down," muttered Bolle, but Cicely took noheed. There was something about the appearance of the rider of the greyhorse that seemed to draw her heart out of her.

  She leaned forward on her beast's neck, staring with all her eyes. Nowthe two men were almost opposite the thicket, and the man in mail turnedhis face to his companion and called cheerily--

  "We gain! We'll slip them yet, Jeffrey."

  Cicely saw the face.

  "Christopher!" she cried; "_Christopher!_"

  Another moment and they had swept past, but Christopher--for it washe--had caught the sound of that remembered voice. With eyes made quickby love and fear she saw him pulling on his rein. She heard him shoutto Jeffrey, and Jeffrey shout back to him in tones of remonstrance.They halted confusedly in the open space beyond. He tried to turn, thenperceived his pursuers drawing nearer, and, when they were already athis heels, with an exclamation, pulled round again to gallop away. Toolate! Up the slope they sped for another hundred yards or so. Now theywere surrounded, and now, at the crest of it, they fought, for swordsflashed in the red light. The pursuers closed in on them like hounds onan outrun fox. They went down--they vanished.

  Cicely strove to gallop after them, for she was crazed, but the othersheld her back.

  At length there was silence, and Thomas Bolle, dismounting, crept out tolook. Ten minutes later he returned.

  "All have gone," he said.

  "Oh! he is dead!" wailed Cicely. "This fatal place has robbed me offather and of husband."

  "I think not," answered Bolle. "I see no bloodstains, nor any signs ofa man being carried. He went living on his horse. Still, would to Heaventhat women could learn when to keep silent!"