Some months had gone by and Blossholme, with all the country round,was once more at peace. The tide of trouble had rolled away northward,whence came rumours of renewed rebellion. Abbot Maldon had been seenno more, and for a while it was believed that although he never tooksanctuary at Lincoln, he had done a wiser thing and fled to Spain. ThenEmlyn, who heard everything, got news that this was not so, but thathe was foremost among those who stirred up sedition and war along theScottish border.
"I can well believe it," said Cicely. "The sow must to its wallowing inthe mire. Nature made him a plotter, and he will follow his heart to theend."
"Ere long he may find it hard to follow his head," answered Emlyngrimly. "Oh, to think that you had that wolf caged and turned him looseagain to prey on England and on us!"
"I did but show mercy to the fallen, Nurse."
"Mercy? I call it madness. Why, when Jeffrey and Thomas heard of it Ithought they would burst with rage, especially Jeffrey, who loved yourfather well and loved not the infidel galleys," answered the fierceEmlyn.
"Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord," murmured Cicely in agentle voice.
"The Lord also said that whoso sheddeth man's blood by man shall hisblood be shed. Why, I've heard this Maldon quote it to your husband atCranwell Towers."
"So will it be, Emlyn, if so it is to be, only let others shed thatcruel blood. I would not have it on my hands or on those of any of myhouse, for after all he is an ordained priest of my own faith. Moreover,I had promised. Still, talk not of the matter lest it should bringtrouble on us all, who had no right to loose him. Also these are illthoughts for your wedding day. Go, deck yourself in those fine clotheswhich Jacob Smith has sent from London, since the clergyman will beat Blossholme church by four, and I think that Thomas has waited longenough for you."
Emlyn smiled a little, and shrugged her broad shoulders, mutteringsomething that would have angered Thomas if he could have heard it,as Cicely went off to join Christopher, who called to her from anotherroom.
She found him adding up figures on paper, a very different Christopherto the broken man they had rescued from the dungeon, though still muchaged by the terrors of the past year and just now looking rueful.
"See, Sweet," he said, "we should give a marriage portion to Emlyn, whohas earned it if ever woman did, but where it is to come from I knownot. Those Abbey lands Jacob Smith bought from the King are not yoursyet, nor Henry's either, though doubtless he will have them soon.Neither have any rents been paid to you from your own estates, and whenthey come they are promised up in London, while the Abbot's razor hasshaved my own poor parsimony bare as a churchyard skull. Also MotherMatilda and her nuns must be kept till we can endow them with theirlands again. One day we, or our boy yonder, may be rich, but till itcomes there are hard times for all of us."
"Not so hard as some we have known, Husband," she answered, laughing,"for at least we are free and have food to eat, and for the rest we willborrow from Jacob Smith on the jewels that remain over. Indeed, I havewritten to him and he will not refuse."
"Aye, but how about Thomas and Emlyn?"
"They must do as their betters do. Though there is little stock on it,Thomas has the Manor Farm at low rent, which he may pay when he can,while Jacob put a present in the pocket of Emlyn's wedding dress. What'smore, I think he will make her his heir, and if so she will be richindeed, so rich that I shall have to curtsey to her. Now, go make readyfor this marriage, and as you have no fine doublet, bid Jeffrey put onyour mail, for you look best in that, or so at least I think, who to mymind look best in anything you chance to wear."
Then while he demurred, saying that there was now no need to bear armsin Blossholme, also that Jeffrey was away settling himself as landlordof the Ford Inn, the same that the Abbot had once promised to FlounderMegges, she kissed him, and seizing her boy, who lay crowing in thesunlight, danced with him from the room. For oh, Cicely's heart wasmerry.
There were many folk at the marriage of Emlyn Stower and Thomas Bolle,for of late Blossholme had been but a sorry place, and this wedding cameto it like the breath of spring to the woods and meads around, a hintof happiness after the miseries of winter. The story of the pair had gotabout also. How they had been pledged in youth and separated by schemingmen for their own purposes. How Emlyn had been married off against herwill to an aged partner whom she hated, and Thomas, who was set down asa fool, forced to serve the monastery as a lay-brother, a strong hindskilled in the management of cattle and such matters, but half crazy, asindeed it had suited him to feign himself to be.
People knew the end of the thing also; that Emlyn had cursed the Abbot,and that her curse had been fulfilled. That Thomas Bolle had shaken offhis superstitious fears and risen up against him and at last been giventhe commission of the King, and, as his Grace's officer, shown himselfno fool but a man of mettle who had taken the Abbey by storm andrescued Sir Christopher Harflete from its dungeons. Emlyn also, like hermistress, had been bound to the stake as a witch, and saved from burningby this same Thomas, who with her had been concerned in many remarkableevents whereof the countryside was full of tales, true or false. Now atlast after all these adventures they came together to be wed, and whowas there for ten miles round that would not see it done?
The monks being gone Father Roger Necton, the old vicar of Cranwell, hewho had united Christopher and his wife Cicely in strange circumstances,and for that deed been obliged to fly for his life when the last Abbotof Blossholme burned Cranwell Towers, came to tie the knot before hisgreat congregation. Notwithstanding that they were both of middleage, Emlyn in her grand gown and the brawny, red-haired Thomas in hisyeoman's garb of green, such as he had worn when he wooed her many yearsbefore he put on the monk's russet robe, made a fine and handsome pairat the altar. Or so folk thought, though some friend of the monks,remembering Bolle's devil's livery and Emlyn's repute as a sorceress,cried out from the shadow that Satan was marrying a witch, and for hispains got his head broken by Jeffrey Stokes.
So the white-haired and gentle Father Necton, having first read theKing's order releasing Thomas from his vows, tied them fast according tothe ancient rites and blessed them both. At length it was finished, andthe pair walked from the old church to the Manor Farm, where they wereto dwell, followed, as was the custom, by a company of their friendsand well-wishers. As they went they passed through a little stretch ofwoodland by the stream, where on this spring day the wild daffodils andlilies of the valley were abloom making sweet the air. Here Emlyn pauseda moment and said to her husband, Captain Bolle--
"Do you remember this place?"
"Aye, Wife," he answered, "it was here that we plighted our troth inyouth, and looked up to see Maldon passing us just beyond that same oak,and felt the shadow of him strike cold to our hearts. You spoke of ityonder in the Priory chapel when I came up by the secret way, and itsmemory made me mad."
"Yes, Thomas, I spoke of it," answered Emlyn in a rich and gentlevoice, a new voice to him. "Well, now let its memory make you happy, as,notwithstanding all my faults, I will if I can," and swiftly she benttowards him and kissed him, adding, "Come on, Husband, they press behindus and I hope that we have done with perils and plottings."
"Amen," answered Bolle, and as he spoke certain strange men who worethe King's colours and carried a long ladder went by them at a distance.Wondering what was their business at Blossholme, the pair passed throughthe last of the woodland and reached the rise whence they could see thegaunt skeleton of the burnt-out Abbey that appeared within fifty pacesof them. At this they paused to look, and presently were joined thereby Christopher and Cicely, Mother Matilda and her good nuns, JeffreyStokes, and others. The place seemed grim and desolate in the eveninglight, and all of them stood staring at it filled with their separatethoughts.
"What is that?" said Cicely, with a start, pointing to a round blackobject new set over the ruin of the gateway tower.
Just then a red ray from the sunset struck upon the thing.
It was the severed he
ad of Clement Maldon the Spaniard.
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