brave, and young. Their blood and that of many more is on our
hands--for what? A stretch of upland and of marsh which the King or
others may seize to-morrow."

The Abbot seemed to cower beneath the weight of these sad, earnest
words, and for a little while there was silence. Then he plucked up
courage, and said--

"I am glad that you remember that their blood is on your hands as well
as mine, since now, perhaps, you will keep them hidden."

He rose and walked to the door and the window to see that none were
without, then returned and exclaimed fiercely--

"Fool, do you then think that these deeds were done to win a new
estate? True it is that those lands are ours by right, and we need their
revenues; but there is more behind. The whole Church of this realm is
threatened by that accursed son of Belial who sits upon the throne. Why,
what is it now, man?"

"Only that I am an Englishman, and love not to hear England's king
called a son of Belial. His sins, I know, are many and black, like those
of others--still, 'son of Belial!' Let his Highness hear it, and that
name alone is enough to hang you!"

"Well, then, angel of grace, if it suits you better. At the least we are
threatened. Against the law of God and man our blessed Queen, Catherine
of Spain, is thrust away in favour of the slut who fills her place.
Even now I have tidings from Kimbolton that she lies dying there of slow
poison; so they say and I believe. Also I have other tidings. Fisher and
More being murdered, Parliament next month will be moved to strike at
the lesser monasteries and steal their goods, and after them our turn
will come. But we will not bear it tamely, for ere this new year is out
all England shall be ablaze, and I, Clement Maldon, I--I will light the
fire. Now you have the truth, Martin. Will you betray me, as that dead
knight would have done?"

"Nay, my Lord Abbot, your secrets are safe with me. Am I not your
chaplain, and does not this wilful and rebellious King of ours work much
mischief against God and His servants? Yet I tell you that I like it
not, and cannot see the end. We English are a stiff-necked folk whom you
of Spain do not understand and will never break, and Henry is strong and
subtle; moreover, his people love him."

"I knew that I could trust you, Martin, and the proof of it is that I
have spoken to you so openly," went on Maldon in a gentler voice. "Well,
you shall hear all. The great Emperor of Germany and Spain is o