CHAPTER XVII
BETWEEN DOOM AND HONOUR
The day was about to break when at last, utterly worn out in body andmind, Cicely and her party rode their stumbling horses up to the gatesof Blossholme Priory.
"Pray God the nuns are still here," said Emlyn, who held the child, "forif they have been driven out and my mistress must go farther, I thinkthat she will die. Knock hard, Thomas, that old gardener is deaf as awall."
Bolle obeyed with good will, till presently the grille in the door wasopened and a trembling woman's voice asked who was there.
"That's Mother Matilda," said Emlyn, and slipping from her horse, sheran to the bars and began to talk to her through them. Then other nunscame, and between them they opened one of the large gates, for thegardener either could not or would not be aroused, and passed through itinto the courtyard where, when it was understood that Cicely had reallycome again, there was a great welcoming. But now she could hardly speak,so they made her swallow a bowl of milk and took her to her old room,where sleep of some kind overcame her. When she awoke it was nine of theclock. Emlyn, looking little the worse, was already up and stood talkingwith Mother Matilda.
"Oh!" cried Cicely, as memory came back to her, "has aught been heard ofmy husband?"
They shook their heads, and the Prioress said--
"First you must eat, Sweet, and then we will tell you all we know, whichis little."
So she ate who needed food sadly, and while Emlyn helped her to dressherself, hearkened to the news. It was of no great account, onlyconfirming that which they had learnt from the Fenmen; that the Abbeywas fortified and guarded by strange soldiers, rebellious men from thenorth or foreigners, and the Abbot supposed to be away.
Bolle, who had been out, reported also that a man he met declared thathe had heard a troop of horsemen pass through the village in the night,but of this no proof was forthcoming, since if they had done so theheavy rain that was still falling had washed out all traces of them.Moreover, in those times people were always moving to and fro in thedark, and none could know if this troop had anything to do with the bandthey had seen in the forest, which might have gone some other way.
When Cicely was ready they went downstairs, and in Mother Matilda'sprivate room found Jacob Smith and Thomas Bolle awaiting them.
"Lady Harflete," said Jacob, with the air of a man who has no time tolose, "things stand thus. As yet none know that you are here, for wehave the gardener and his wife under ward. But as soon as they learnit at the Abbey there will be risk of an attack, and this place is notdefensible. Now at your hall of Shefton it is otherwise, for thereit seems is a deep moat with a drawbridge and the rest. To Shefton,therefore, you must go at once, unobserved if may be. Indeed, Thomas hasbeen there already, and spoken to certain of your tenants whom he cantrust, who are now hard at work preparing and victualling the place,and passing on the word to others. By nightfall he hopes to have thirtystrong men to defend it, and within three days a hundred, when yourcommission and his captaincy are made known. Come, then, for there is notime to tarry and the horses are saddled."
So Cicely kissed Mother Matilda, who blessed and thanked her for all shehad done, or tried to do on behalf of the sisterhood, and within fiveminutes once more they were on the backs of their weary beasts andriding through the rain to Shefton, which happily was but threemiles away. Keeping under the lee of the woods they left the Prioryunobserved, for in that wet few were stirring, and the sentinels atthe Abbey, if there were any, had taken shelter in the guard-house. Sothankfully enough they came unmolested to walled and wooded Shefton,which Cicely had last seen when she fled thence to Cranwell on theday of her marriage, oh, years and years ago, or so it seemed to hertormented heart.
It was a strange and a sad home-coming, she thought, as they rode overthe drawbridge and through the sodden and weed-smothered pleasaunce tothe familiar door. Yet it might have been worse, for the tenants whomBolle had warned had not been idle. For two hours past and more a dozenwilling women had swept and cleaned; the fires had been lit, and therewas plenteous food of a sort in the kitchen and the store-room.
Moreover, in all the big hall were gathered about a score of her people,who welcomed her by raising their bonnets and even tried to cheer. Tothese at once Jacob read the King's commission, showing them the signetand the seal, and that other commission which named Thomas Bolle acaptain with wide powers, the sight and hearing of which writings seemedto put a great heart into them who so long had lacked a leader and thesupport of authority. One and all they swore to stand by the King andtheir lady, Cicely Harflete, and her lord, Sir Christopher, or if hewere dead, his child. Then about half of them took horse and rode off,this way and that, to gather men in the King's name, while the reststayed to guard the Hall and work at its defences.
By sunset men were riding up from all sides, some of them driving cartsloaded with provisions, arms and fodder, or sheep and beasts that couldbe killed for sustenance, while as they came Jacob enrolled their namesupon a paper and by virtue of his commission Thomas Bolle swore them in.Indeed that night they had forty men quartered there, and the promise ofmany more.
By now, however, the secret was out, for the story had gone round andthe smoke from the Shefton chimneys told its own tale. First a singlespy appeared on the opposite rise, watching. Then he galloped away, toreturn an hour later with ten armed and mounted men, one of whom carrieda banner on which were embroidered the emblems of the Pilgrimageof Grace. These men rode to within a hundred paces of Shefton Hall,apparently with the object of attacking it, then seeing that thedrawbridge was up and that archers with bent bows stood on either side,halted and sent forward one of their number with a white flag to parley.
"Who holds Shefton," shouted this man, "and for what cause?"
"The Lady Harflete, its owner, and Captain Thomas Bolle, for the causeof the King," called old Jacob Smith back to him.
"By what warrant?" asked the man. "The Abbot of Blossholme is lord ofShefton, and Thomas Bolle is but a lay-brother of his monastery."
"By warrant of the King's Grace," said Jacob, and then and there at thetop of his voice he read to him the Royal Commission, which when theenvoy had heard, he went back to consult with his companions. For awhile they hesitated, apparently still meditating attack, but in the endrode away and were seen no more.
Bolle wished to follow and fall on them with such men as he had, but thecautious Jacob Smith forbade it, fearing lest he should tumble intosome ambush and be killed or captured with his people, leaving the placedefenceless.
So the afternoon went by, and ere evening closed in they had so muchstrength that there was no more cause for fear of an attack from theAbbey, whose garrison they learned amounted to not over fifty men and afew monks, for most of these had fled.
That night Cicely with Emlyn and old Jacob were seated in the long upperroom where her father, Sir John Foterell, had once surprised Christopherpaying his court to her, when Bolle entered, followed by a man with ahang-dog look who was wrapped in a sheepskin coat which seemed to becomehim very ill.
"Who is this, friend?" asked Jacob.
"An old companion of mine, your worship, a monk of Blossholme who isweary of Grace and its pilgrimages, and seeks the King's comfort andpardon, which I have made bold to promise to him."
"Good," said Jacob, "I'll enter his name, and if he remains faithfulyour promise shall be kept. But why do you bring him here?"
"Because he bears tidings."
Now something in Bolle's voice caused Cicely, who was brooding apart, tolook up sharply and say--
"Speak, and be swift."
"My Lady," began the man in a slow voice, "I, who am named Basil inreligion, have fled the Abbey because, although a monk, I am true tothe King, and moreover have suffered much from the Abbot, who has justreturned raging, having met with some reverse out Lincoln way, I knownot what. My news is that your lord, Sir Christopher Harflete, and hisservant Jeffrey Stokes are prisoners in the Abbey dungeons, whither theywere brought la
st night by a company of the rebels who had captured themand afterwards rode on."
"Prisoners!" exclaimed Cicely. "Then he is not dead or wounded? At leasthe is whole and safe?"
"Aye, my Lady, whole and safe as a mouse in the paws of a cat before itis eaten."
The blood left Cicely's cheeks. In her mind's eye she saw Abbot Maldonturned into a great cat with a monk's head and patting Christopher withhis claws.
"My fault, my fault!" she said in a heavy voice. "Oh, if I had notcalled him he would have escaped. Would that I had been stricken dumb!"
"I don't think so," answered Brother Basil. "There were others watchingfor him ahead who, when he was taken, went away and that is how you cameto get through so neatly. At least there he lies, and if you would savehim, you had best gather what strength you can and strike at once."
"Does he know that I live?" asked Cicely.
"How can I tell, Lady? The Abbey dungeons are no good place fornews. Yet the monk who took him his food this morning said that SirChristopher told him that he had been undone by some ghost which calledto him with the voice of his dead wife as he rode near King's GraveMount."
Now when Cicely heard this she rose and left the room accompanied byEmlyn, for she could bear no more.
But Jacob Smith and Bolle remained questioning the man closely upon manymatters, and, having learned all he could tell them, sent him away underguard and sat there till midnight consulting and making up their planswith the farmers and yeomen whom they called to them from time to time.
Next morning early they sought out Cicely and told her that to them itseemed wise that the Abbey should be attacked without delay.
"But my husband lies there," she answered in distress, "and then theywill kill him."
"So I fear they may if we do not attack," replied Jacob. "Moreover,Lady, to tell the truth, there are other things to be thought of. Forinstance, the King's cause and honour, which we are bound to forward,and the lives and goods of all those who through us have declaredthemselves for him. If we lie idle Abbot Maldon will send messengers tothe north and within a few days bring down thousands upon us, againstwhom we cannot hope to stand. Indeed, it is probable that he hasalready sent. But if they hear that the Abbey has fallen the rebels willscarcely come for revenge alone. Lastly, if we sit with folded hands,our own people may grow cold with doubts and fears and melt away, whonow are hot as fire."
"If it must be, so let it be. In God's hands I leave his life," saidCicely in a heavy voice.