The Lady of Blossholme

  CHAPTER XII

  THE STAKE

  It was an awful night. Let those who have followed this history think ofthe state of these two women, one of them still but a girl, who on themorrow, amidst the jeers and curses of superstitious men, were to sufferthe cruelest of deaths for no crime at all, unless the traffickings ofEmlyn with Thomas Bolle, in which Cicely had small share, could be helda crime. Well, thousands quite as blameless were called on to undergothat, and even worse fates in the days which some name good and old,the days of chivalry and gallant knights, when even little children weretormented and burned by holy and learned folk who feared a visible or atleast a tangible devil and his works.

  Doubtless their cruelty was that of terror. Doubtless, although hehad other ends to gain which to him were sacred, the Abbot Maldon didbelieve that Cicely and Emlyn had practised horrible witchcraft; thatthey had conversed with Satan in order to revenge themselves upon him,and therefore were too foul to live. The "Old Bishop" believed it also,and so did the black-browed Prior and the most of the ignorant peoplewho lived around and knew of the terrible things which had happened inBlossholme. Had not some of them actually seen the fiend with hornsand hoofs and tail driving the Abbey cattle, and had not others metthe ghost of Sir John Foterell, which doubtless was but that fiend inanother shape? Oh, these women were guilty, without doubt they wereguilty and deserved the stake! What did it matter if the husband andfather of one of them had been murdered and the other had sufferedgrievous but forgotten wrongs? Compared to witchcraft murder was but alight and homely crime, one that would happen when men's passions andneeds were involved, quite a familiar thing.

  It was an awful night. Sometimes Cicely slept a little, but the mostof it she spent in prayer. The fierce Emlyn neither slept nor prayed,except once or twice that vengeance might fall upon the Abbot's head,for her whole soul was up in arms and it galled her to think that sheand her beloved mistress must die shamefully while their enemy lived ontriumphant and in honour. Even the infant seemed nervous and disturbed,as though some instinct warned it of terror at hand, for although it waswell enough, against its custom it woke continually and wailed.

  "Emlyn," said Cicely towards morning, but before the light had come,after at length she had soothed it to rest, "do you think that MotherMatilda will be able to help us?"

  "No, no; put it from your mind, dearie. She is weak and old, the roadis rough and long, and mayhap she has never reached the place. It was agreat venture for her to try such a journey, and if she came there, why,perhaps the Commissioner man had gone, or perhaps he will not listen,or perhaps he cannot come. What would he care about the burning of twowitches a hundred miles away, this leech who is sucking himself fullupon the carcass of some fat monastery? No, no, never count on her."

  "At least she is brave and true, Emlyn, and has done her best, for whichmay Heaven's blessing rest upon her always. Now, what of Thomas Bolle?"

  "Nothing, except that he is a red-headed jackass that can bray butdaren't kick," answered Emlyn viciously. "Never speak to me of ThomasBolle. Had he been a man long ago he'd have broken the neck of thatrogue Abbot instead of dressing himself up like a he-goat and huntinghis cows."

  "If what they say is true he did break the neck of Father Ambrose,"replied Cicely, with a faint smile. "Perhaps he made a mistake in thedark."

  "If so it is like Thomas Bolle, who ever wished the right thing and didthe wrong. Talk no more of him, since I would not meet my end in a badspirit. Thomas Bolle, who lets us die for his elfish pranks! A pest onthe half-witted cur, say I. And after I had kissed him too!"

  Cicely wondered vaguely to what she referred, then, thinking it well notto inquire, said--

  "Not so, a blessing on him, say I, who saved my child from that hatefulhag."

  Then there was silence for a while, the matter of poor Thomas Bolle andhis conduct being exhausted between them, who indeed were in no mood forargument about people whom they would never see again. At last Cicelyspoke once more through the darkness--

  "Emlyn, I will try to be brave; but once, do you remember, I burnt myhand as a child when I stole the sweetmeats from the cooling pot, andah! it hurt me. I will try to die as those who went before me wouldhave died, but if I should break down think not the less of me, for thespirit is willing though the flesh be weak."

  Emlyn ground her teeth in silence, and Cicely went on--

  "But that is not the worst of it, Emlyn. A few minutes and it willbe over and I shall sleep, as I think, to awake elsewhere. Only ifChristopher should really live, how he will mourn when he learns----"

  "I pray that he does," broke in Emlyn, "for then ere long there will bea Spanish priest the less on earth and one the more in hell."

  "And the child, Emlyn, the child!" she went on in a trembling voice, notheeding the interruption. "What will become of my son, the heir to somuch if he had his rights, and yet so friendless? They'll murderhim also, Emlyn, or let him die, which is the same thing, since howotherwise will they get title to his lands and goods?"

  "If so, his troubles will be done and he will be better with you inheaven," Emlyn answered, with a dry sob. "The boy and you in heavenmidst the blessed saints, and the Abbot and I in hell settling our scorethere with the devil for company, that's all I ask. There, there, Iblaspheme, for injustice makes me mad; it clogs my heart and I throw itup in bitter words, for your sake, dear, and his, not my own. Child, youare good and gentle, to such as you the Ear of God is open. Call to him;ask for light, He will not refuse. Do you remember in the fire at theTowers, when we crouched in that vault and the walls crumbled overhead,you said you saw His angel bending over us and heard his speech. Call toHim, Cicely, and if He will not listen, hear me. I have a means ofdeath about me. Ask not what it is, but if at the end I turn on you andstrike, blame me not here or hereafter, for it will be love's blow, mylast service."

  It seemed as though Cicely did not understand those heavy words, at theleast she took no heed of them.

  "I'll pray again," she whispered, "though I fear that heaven's doors areclosed to me; no light comes through," and she knelt down.

  For long, long she prayed, till at length weariness overcame her, andEmlyn heard her breathing softly like one asleep.

  "Let her sleep," she murmured to herself. "Oh! if I were sure--sheshould never wake again to see the dawn. I have half a mind to do it,but there it is, I am not sure. If there is a God He will never suffersuch a thing. I'd have paid the jewels, but what's the use? They wouldhave killed her all the same, for else where's their title? No, my heartbids me wait."