nce, and in Italy. You must bide to marry her, lest that cuckoo, Hugh
de Cressi, that cuckoo with the sharp bill, should creep into my nest.
I'll not be worsted by a stripling clad in merchant's cloth who slew
my only son. Take not my words ill, noble Noyon, for I am overdone with
grief for the past and fear for the future. You must bide to marry her
by fair means or by foul. Draw her from the sanctuary and marry her
whether she say you yea or nay. You have my leave, noble Noyon," and so
speaking he swayed and fell prone upon the floor.

At first they thought that he was dead. But the chaplain, Nicholas, who
was a leech, bled him, and he came to himself again, although he still
wandered in his talk and lay abed.

Then Acour and Nicholas took counsel together.

"What is to be done?" said Sir Edmund, "for I am on fire for this maid,
and all her scorn and hate do but fan my flame. Moreover, she is now
very rich, for that old hot-head cannot live long. His violent
humours will kill him, and, as you know, Father, although I have great
possessions, my costs are large and I have still greater debts. Lastly,
shall de Noyon and his knights be worsted by a wool-merchant's younger
son, a mere 'prentice lad, and his henchman, a common archer of the
fens? Show me how to get her, Nicholas, and I'll make an abbot of you
yet. This sanctuary, now? will it hold? If we stormed the place and took
her, would the Holy Father give us absolution, do you think?"

"No, my lord," answered the fox-faced Nicholas. "The Church is great
because the Church is one, and what the priest does the Pope upholds,
especially when that priest is no mean man. This holy monk, Sir Andrew
Arnold, has reputation throughout Europe, and, though he seems so
humble, because of his wisdom is in the counsel of many great men whose
fathers or grandfathers were guided by him long ago. Commit what
crime you will, dip yourself to the lips in blood, and you may find
forgiveness, but touch not an ancient and acknowledged sanctuary of the
Church, since for this offence there will be none."

"What then, Nicholas? Must I give up the chase and fly? To speak truth,
things seem to threaten me. Why has that Hugh twice called me traitor?
Have any of my letters fallen into strange hands, think you? I have
written several, and you know my mission here."

"It is possible, lord; all things are possible, but I think not. I think
that he only draws the bow at a hazard, which is more th