“You are a firebrand, Damask. You always were. What a reckless little fool! You might have had so much. But you chose him….Is he a man or is he an idol? We shall soon see. He should hang well.”
“You have made up your mind to inform against him as you did against my father.”
“Your father?”
“Don’t try to deceive me further, Simon Caseman. My father took you into his house. You had nothing of your own. All you had was envy, greed, and a sad lack of principles. You had selfishness, wickedness, ingratitude….”
“In fact I was a very sinful fellow.”
“For once you have spoken the truth. You are my father’s murderer, Simon Caseman. You wanted his possessions.”
“I wanted his daughter, I admit. And the fact is that even when she rants and raves I still do.”
“How dare you!”
“As you dare, my reckless beauty. Here is the man who can have you all carried off to the Tower before another day has passed…and you dare abuse him.”
“I would abuse you with my dying breath. Have you ever loved a father?”
“I never knew mine so that was beyond me.”
“I loved my father. I loved him dearly. I saw him in his prison in the Tower. He was taken from there to his place of execution and his head was cut off. You cut off that head, Simon Caseman. Do you think I shall ever forgive you for that?”
“Your father was a fool. He should never have harbored the priest. He knew he was breaking the law. People who break the law must expect sudden and violent death. To give a priest shelter, to set up an abbey which has been dispossessed…these acts are breaking the King’s laws and punishable by death. You would do well to remember that while you rant, however prettily, to one who could do you much good or as you wish so much harm.”
“Not content with being my father’s murderer you would murder us all. You want this Abbey, do you not? Is this the price you are asking?”
“Don’t be so foolish, Damask. I would not harm you. Are you not my own stepdaughter?”
“To my deepest shame I am.”
“And one for whom, for all her waywardness and unkindness to me, I have ever felt great warmth of heart.”
“Have you ever felt that for any?”
“For you, you know.”
“Are you suggesting that you wished to marry me for reasons other than that I was my father’s heir?”
“You are not your father’s heir now, Damask. You are in acute danger. Tomorrow you will wait for the arrival of the King’s men. You were not there when they took your father. This time it will be your husband for whom they come unless….”
“Unless what?”
“I would do a great deal for you, Damask.”
“Then go away and hang yourself.”
He laughed. “That is asking a little too much for if I were dead how could I enjoy your company? No, Damask, you will have to be more pleasant to me…if you wish to go on living in comfort on your Spanish gold.”
“I fail to understand you.”
He took a step nearer to me. “I think you understand very well. If you were to come to me in a friendly fashion I might be persuaded to suspend my judgment on what has taken place tonight.”
“I will ask my mother’s advice,” I said caustically.
“Oh, Damask, were you not unwise? Just think if you had not been, your father would be alive today.”
I turned away and started toward the house.
He called after me: “I shall give you twenty-four hours. Think about it. You could have saved your father. Now is the time to save your family.”
Bruno was coming out of the church followed by several of the monks.
Simon Caseman broke into a run and I hurried into the house trembling.
Bruno did not come to our bedchamber that night. I spent most of it in the window seat waiting for his return. I wanted to find out whether indeed he had received money from Spain or Rome. It seemed to me the only explanation. I wondered it had not occurred to me before. Of course it was the answer. He had received money to rebuild the Abbey, and what more plausible than that he should have been chosen to do this.
Simon Caseman’s words kept repeating themselves in my mind. I was responsible for my father’s death. If I had married Simon Caseman he would not have informed on him because through me he would have had the house. But I would not marry him and so my father had to die. And now he had put another proposition to me. If I would go to him—and I knew what he meant by that—I could buy his silence.
I shivered at the prospect confronting us.
At least though we were safe for twenty-four hours.
Why did not Bruno come to me and comfort me? How characteristic of him was this. He allowed me to share nothing and the reason was that he knew I did not believe in him.
In the morning I went into the tower where he had his private quarters. He was working placidly at his books.
“Bruno,” I cried, “I should have thought you would have had something to say to me.”
He looked surprised.
“You can’t have forgotten last night’s scene?”
“Your stepfather is not worth a moment’s thought.”
I replied sharply: “He was responsible for my father’s death. He is now threatening to bring about yours and many of those dependent on you.”
“And you think he will succeed?”
“He succeeded with my father.”
“Your father acted foolishly.”
“Not as foolishly as you. You blatantly break the law. At least he did it in secret.”
He smiled and lifted his head, and he looked so beautiful that I could have wept because all was not well between us.
“I tell you that there is no need to fear.”
“No need to fear? When that man is our enemy and has witnessed what he did last night and moreover threatened to expose you?”
“He will do nothing.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I know.”
“He has threatened to expose you.”
“You believe everyone but me. You imply that you do not think me capable of defending everything I have built up.”
“With Spanish gold?” I asked.
“You see, you believe him.”
“But it seems obvious now. Where could you have found so much money?”
His eyes glowed with an inner fire. “He asked if heaven opened its coffers for me. And the answer is yes. It was a miracle. It was for this purpose that I came to the crib on Christmas morning. Men and women have uttered calumnies concerning me. And you, the one whom I chose, believed them rather than me. But this I swear. The money with which I am rebuilding this Abbey did not come from Spain. It came from heaven. And if you say that could only be a miracle, I answer: So be it. I tell you that man cannot harm me. But you do not believe me.”
“If you swear to me that you are not in the pay of the Spaniards….”
“I do not beg you to believe me. I merely tell you that he will not betray us. It may be that in due course you will have a little faith in me.”
With that he left me.
Twenty-four hours grace. I knew Simon Caseman well enough to believe that he would carry out his threat. He was an acquisitive and vengeful man. He could not believe that I would fall in with his monstrous suggestion. He enjoyed tormenting me, making clear to me how much I and my family were in his power. Moreover he lusted not only for me but for the Abbey, and I knew that to gain that was his main purpose.
It was no use remonstrating with Bruno though what he could do to save himself I could not imagine. I had no doubt that not only had Simon Caseman seen with his own eyes what was going on in the Abbey but he would have witnesses.
It occurred to me that I might take the girls and go to Kate. Would that save them? Would it involve Kate?