And while we drank it Bruno told us of his good fortune, of how he had prospered in London; how he had gone to France on the King’s business and because he had executed that business with an especial skill he had been in a position to acquire the Abbey.
From anyone else it would have sounded incredible but his presence, his assurance and that air which was unlike anyone else’s insisted on our belief.
I could see that my mother did not doubt it at all.
“And all that land…all those buildings that make up the Abbey,” she said.
“I have plans,” he answered, smiling.
“And the gardens?”
“Yes, there will be gardens.”
“You will live there alone?”
“I am planning to marry. It is one of the reasons I have called on you today.”
He was smiling at me and my heart was lifted. All the misery of the past fell away from me then.
“I have come to ask you for Damask’s hand in marriage.”
“But this is all so…unexpected. I must consult my husband.”
“There is no need,” I said. “Bruno and I had already decided to marry.”
“You…you knew…,” stammered my mother.
“I knew that he would ask my hand and I had already made up my mind to accept him.”
I held out my hand; he took it. It seemed symbolic. Then I saw the look of pride in his eyes; he held his head high. He was so clearly delighted by the effect this had on us. And why had he not told me on that night that he was the new owner of the Abbey? Clearly because he had wanted to be sure that it was for himself that I would marry him. It was his pride—his human pride. And I was glad.
He was so proud now that momentarily I was reminded of the peacocks strutting on the lawn. There was no divinity in such an attitude surely, I thought tenderly.
It was a human attitude and it pleased me for that reason. I wanted him to be human. I did not want a saint or a miracle man. That’s what I would teach him. I wanted a husband whom I could love and care for, who was not all-powerful, who needed me.
There was so much to learn, so many explanations to hear, but for that moment in the winter parlor, I was happy as I had never thought to be again.
It was the only topic of conversation. Bruno, the child who had been discovered in the Christmas crib, was the new owner of the Abbey.
Of course, said the wiseacres, it was another miracle. They had never trusted Keziah. She had been made to confess under torture.
It had seemed strange that the Abbey had had to be dissolved but the divine purpose was rarely other than mysterious. Now they would see…what they would see. He, who had clearly been intended to rule the Abbey, was back, and it all had a seemingly natural appearance which was often the way of miracles.
Bruno was lighthearted. Here was another side to his nature. He had never been like this in the old days.
He made plans. He was going to build from the stones of the Abbey a mighty mansion. Like the phoenix of old a new Abbey would arise to replace the old one.
I lived a fantastic existence during those months. Bruno wanted the wedding to take place immediately.
My mother was shocked. A wedding must be prepared for. What of my dowry? What of the formalities to which well-brought-up people must submit?”
“I want no dowry,” said Bruno. “I want only Damask.”
The effect on Simon Caseman was what I would have expected. At first he was angry. He had lost the Abbey on which he had set his heart; and that he had lost it to Bruno, the penniless waif, the bastard of a serving girl and a monk was impossible for him to believe at first.
“It’s a hoax,” he declared. “We shall find that he is deceiving us. How could it be possible?”
“People say,” said my mother timidly, “that with him everything is possible.”
“It’s a trick!” insisted Simon.
But when he had to accept the fact that it was indeed true a smoldering silence was his response. When he learned that I was to marry Bruno he said nothing but I knew that he was far from unmoved; and if I had not been in such a state of bliss I might have been apprehensive, for I was certain that he was a dangerous man.
Rupert was bewildered. “It seems so incredible, Damask,” he said.
I repeated what Bruno had told us about finding good fortune in London and pleasing the King.
“It’s impossible,” said Rupert. “Such a thing could not possibly happen in such a short time. Even Thomas Wolsey, whose rise was phenomenal, did not succeed like that.”
“Bruno is not like ordinary people.”
“I don’t like it, Damask. It smacks of witchcraft.”
“Oh, no, Rupert! We just have to accept that Bruno is different from the rest of us.”
“Damask, are you truly happy?”
“As I never believed it possible to be after my father died.” Rupert did not answer. He was very unhappy, I know. His dream that he and I should one day marry was shattered; but it was more than that. His nature was such that while he saw his own plans for his future life in ruins he could still be apprehensive for that which I had chosen.
As soon as the harvest was over he would go to the Remus estate. Then I supposed I should see very little of him.
It has always surprised me how when something becomes a fact—however mysteriously it happens, however fantastic it is—in a short time people grow accustomed to it and cease to regard it with wonder.
So it was with the return of Bruno and his acquisition of the Abbey.
Bruno had taken the name of Kingsman. It had not occurred to me before that he had no surname. I suppose he should have had that of Keziah but he refused to take it. He told me why he was called Kingsman. When he had gone to France on the King’s service His Majesty had been so delighted with him on his return that he had granted him an audience and asked his name. Bruno had told him that he did not know his parents and that he had had no need of a name until that moment. He had decided to call himself the King’s man. This delighted the King who had greatly approved, and had increased his favor with His Majesty and had made the way to acquiring the Abbey easy.
“There is so much I want to know,” I said.
“You will know in time,” Bruno replied.
He was eager to show me the Abbey. “Your new home,” he called it, and together we wandered through that vast estate.
“There are bricks here in plenty,” said Bruno, “to build us as fine a mansion as you could wish.”
“Will that not be costly?”
“There is one thing you will have to learn, Damask. Never apply the same standards to me as you must to other men.”
“You talk as though you have endless wealth.”
He pressed my hand. “Much will be revealed to you.”
“Now you talk like a prophet.”
He smiled and the look of pride was on his face.
We would leave the church tower, he said, which was particularly fine and Norman; we would leave the Lady Chapel too because a house of this size would need its chapel; but the lay brothers’ dorter, their infirmary and kitchens would be demolished. The monks’ dorter and refectory would in time be the servants’ quarters. He had grand plans. We should see great changes during the next months. I should help him plan our new establishment.
“You will marry a rich man after all, Damask,” he said. “And you believed, did you not, that you were to marry a poor one?”
“Why did you tell me this? Why did you think it necessary to test me?”
“I wanted to be sure that you wished to come to me…for myself only.”
“And you—who know so much—did not know that I would do that!”
“In truth I never doubted you. I knew…because I know these things. But I wanted to hear you say it. I wanted you to know yourself.”