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Updated: May 21, 2025
For, as it has been well remarked, without the influence of the Church there would have been in the land but two classes beasts of burden and beasts of prey an enslaved serfdom, a ferocious aristocracy. And such an outpost of civilisation was the Priory of Michelham, on the verge of the debatable land where Saxon outlaws and Norman lords struggled for the mastery.
At the southern verge of the mighty forest called the Andredsweald, or Anderida Sylva, Gilbert d'Aquila, last of that name, founded the Priory of Michelham for the good of his soul.
"I am going to lunch with Markrute in the City to discuss all the points. So good-bye for the present. I will probably see you to-night. Call a taxi," he said to Michelham who at that moment came into the room with a note.
His horse, Satan, had been particularly fresh, and he had been obliged to give him an extra canter twice round the Row, before coming in, and was breakfast ready? as he was extremely hungry! Yes, breakfast was ready, and they went into the dining-room where the old butler awaited them. "Give me everything, Michelham," said his lordship, "I am ravenous. Then you can go.
"Michelham is a very old friend of mine, Zara. We used to do a bit of poaching together, when I was a boy and came home from Eton." Michelham was only a servant and could not know of her degradation, so Zara allowed herself to smile and looked wonderfully lovely, as the old man said,
I am not of Norman blood by my father's side, although my mother may be, from whom I get my dark features: my father was descended from the old English lords of Michelham, who lived on the island for ages before the Conquest; my mother's family is unknown to me." "Indeed! what became of your English forbears?"
"Dost thou know, my Stephen, thy way through this desolate country? for verily the traces of the road are but slight." "My lord, the night grows darker, and the air seems full of snow. Had we not better return and seek shelter within the walls of Hamelsham? I fear we have lost the way utterly, and shall never reach Michelham Priory tonight."
It wants about three hours to dawn, the moon shines, the snow has ceased, so that thou wilt reach Michelham in time for early mass. I will take thee to thine horses." She led them forth; the horses were quietly saddled and bridled. No watch was kept; who could dread a foe at such a time and season?
For I am not only the last represent alive of the old English house of Michelham, but also a son of the house of Walderne; Mabel, my mother, being the sister, as many know, of the Lady Sybil. Ah, well. I seek a more continuing city than either Walderne or Michelham, and I want no earthly dignities.
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