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Updated: June 7, 2025
The documents for your signature shall be ready this afternoon, and by the way, the Lady Harflete and her servant, also that stout, shrewd fellow, Thomas Bolle, ride with me to London to-morrow. She will explain all. At three of the clock I wait upon you."
"Ring the women round," roared Bolle, "and strike home for Foterell, strike home for Harflete! Ah, priest's dog, in the King's name this!" and the axe sank up to the haft into the breast of the captain who had told Cicely that she would be warm enough that day without her cloak. Then there began a great fight.
"A dark night, a ladder with a plank on it, a brick arched drain, two hundredweight, or better still, four of powder set beneath the gate, a slow-match and a brave man to fire it taken together with God's blessing, these things might do much," mused Emlyn, as though to herself. Now at length they took her point. "They'd be listening like a cat for a mouse," said Bolle.
Cicely wondered vaguely to what she referred, then, thinking it well not to inquire, said "Not so, a blessing on him, say I, who saved my child from that hateful hag." Then there was silence for a while, the matter of poor Thomas Bolle and his conduct being exhausted between them, who indeed were in no mood for argument about people whom they would never see again.
To them who knew well that this being was Thomas Bolle, the thing seemed absurd. Yet it could not be denied that the said Thomas at Emlyn's instigation had worked much evil on the monks of Blossholme, paying them, or rather their Abbot, back in his own coin. Yet what was to be done?
The Council waits us, and so does supper, and a word or two with her Grace ere bedtime. You, Thomas Bolle, you are no fool and can hold a sword; tell me, shall I go up north to fight the rebels, or bide here and let others do it?" "Bide here, your Grace," answered Thomas promptly.
Then, as this thing had become a scandal and a dread, the Abbot, in his robes, solemnly laid the ghost, Thomas Bolle showing him exactly where it had passed. "Clement Maldonado, Abbot of Blossholme, I, whom thou didst murder, summon thee to meet me within a year before the throne of God."
Now they humbly crave your Majesty's royal pardon for their share in this man-slaying, if any, as also does Thomas Bolle yonder, who seems to have done the slaying " "Well can I believe it," muttered the King. "And a declaration of the invalidity of their trial and condemning, and of their innocence of the foul charge laid against them."
Yet it might have been worse, for the tenants whom Bolle had warned had not been idle. For two hours past and more a dozen willing women had swept and cleaned; the fires had been lit, and there was 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.
"Bring bows," he cried, "and shoot them, for they have none!" and men ran off to do his bidding. Then it was that Emlyn's wit came to their aid, for when Bolle shook his red head and gasped out that he feared they were lost, since how could they fight against arrows, she answered "If so, why stand here to be spitted, fool?
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